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The early morning sunlight filtered lazily through the white curtains of the bedroom window. It fell, soft and languid, across the gentle curves of their bodies tangled in blankets.
It was the height of summer, but Ominis refused to give up the comforting embrace of the bedsheets. It was a habit he'd clung to since childhood—either the sheets or nothing, there'd be no sleep at all. On his part, Sebastian didn't really have a say in the matter. He simply had to learn to live with it.
To be fair, it wasn't like they were wearing anything underneath, and since Sebastian had apparently made it his personal mission to toss, turn, and wrestle sleep all night, the blankets were now just a twisted mess of white, hardly covering them, if at all.
Heat, in short, wasn’t the issue.
So it wasn’t the heat that woke Ominis up—nor, of course, could it have been the sunlight pressing against his eyelids. The deep black they concealed was utterly indifferent to its persistence.
No, what roused him was a feeling he sometimes liked to call the morning tickle.
I'm sorry, the what? Sebastian had asked the first time he'd heard it, an ear-to-ear grin tempering the bud of confusion in his voice.
The morning tickle, he'd just stated. Not quite an explanation, but he didn't really feel like he needed to explain it. He simply let the clarity come with the next morning.
He had to admit, there was something oddly entertaining about throwing off the sighted—they were so blind in their own peculiar, ridiculous way. And he did so with the most deceptive weapon of all: words. He enjoyed stringing them together, seemingly at random, forging subtle chains of a secret code one had to think twice to decipher.
Some, like his siblings, found this habit of his rather unnerving. Others, like Anne, eventually found it endearing. There were also those who never quite got it, who raised a skeptical eyebrow each time he came up with one of his freshly minted patchworks of expression. Those times were his favorites. Sebastian never missed a chance to describe Garreth’s puzzled grimaces in vivid detail, between snorts and loud bursts of laughter—which, without fail, earned him an irritated swat to the back of the head from the redhead.
The morning tickle was nothing but a sensation of gentle warmth, slowly spreading across his face—starting as a feather-light touch over his forehead, his temples, his cheeks… then a caress, growing more real, more insistent, until he finally opened his eyes. To hell with the hateful screech of weekday alarms.
Ominis wasn’t a lover of summer, but those slow mornings, he did treasure.
And so he docked at the solid pier of reality—to the familiar feel of Sebastian’s hair brushing the side of his chest, the weight of his arm sling across his stomach, a leg tangled with his own.
Quite the clinger, was he. He snored so quietly, one might almost think he was faking it.
Ominis’s arm, twisted into an awkward angle at some unknown point during the night, was now prickling with pins and needles. Now, if there was one thing he truly disliked, it was disturbing Sebastian’s peaceful sleep—but that bothersome ache in his shoulder, he liked even less.
Taking care to move as little as possible, Ominis propped himself up on his good elbow, suppressing what came out as a sort of half-grunt, half-yawn. He slowly wriggled free from Sebastian’s iron grip, freezing only when the boy muttered something in protest before rolling over and resuming his soft snoring.
He already had a couple of nicknames lined up for when Sebastian woke, and the thought alone made him smirk.
He got up, and as he shook out his numb arm, the blood beginning to flow properly again, he became aware of the unpleasant weight settling in his bladder. At the same time, an urgent reminder of the day’s plans nudged its way into his mind—but he chose to ignore it, for now.
Slow morning.
He took his sweet time going to the bathroom, washing his face, and carefully shaving that stubborn patch of stubble that usually earned him a nick or two from the unforgiving razor blades—though today, he got lucky, escaping with only a small scratch under his chin.
He found a tank top to throw on over his boxers, then slipped quietly into the kitchen for a slow, slow breakfast.
The fridge was half empty. Neither he nor Sebastian could exactly be called reliable when it came to keeping the pantry stocked—but at least Ominis had the excuse of being blind.
His hand wandered, feeling around for something that might catch his interest. It ran over against the familiar shape of the fruit bowl, a bag with unrecognizable contents, and a can—Coke?—that was definitely in the wrong place. Finally, his fingers closed around a plastic yogurt container that had been sitting there for who knows how long.
The Braille markings reassured him that the expiration date was still a ways off. He peeled back the foil, grabbed a spoon from the cutlery drawer, and began absently poking at the white cream before finally bringing it to his mouth. It tasted bland, with a faintly sour aftertaste.
Soon enough, a pair of arms reclaimed their rightful place around his torso, wrapping around him from behind, and Sebastian’s body relaxed against his back.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Ominis said.
A muffled mmh, fresh from the realm of Morpheus, vibrated against his shoulder blades.
“Did I wake you?”
Mh-mh, came the reply, accompanied by a firm shake of the head.
“Just so you know, there’s not much left for breakfast. Someone forgot to do the shopping again.”
“Wasn’t me,” Sebastian mumbled against his back. “What are you having?”
“A delicious plain yogurt that tastes like impression and faded memory.”
“Nice. Is it a good memory?”
“The reading of Great-Uncle Titus’ will.”
“Wasn’t his name Tiberius?”
“Don’t remember,” came the honest reply through a mouthful of yogurt.
The sound of Sebastian's chuckle reverberated through their skin-to-skin contact, a little jolt that ran straight into Ominis’s veins and shook off the last bits of lingering sleep.
Sebastian gently spun him around and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before murmuring, his voice still a bit rough, “Morning, gorgeous.”
With that, he dipped a finger into Ominis’s yogurt.
“That was my breakfast,” Ominis noted as Sebastian licked the yogurt off his finger.
“You’re right. This stuff’s awful,” Sebastian admitted. “Serves you right for deciding to go on a diet.”
“Wanting to eat a little cleaner isn’t the same as going on a diet. I’m going to die young if I keep living on Burger King, thanks to you.”
“I don’t recall ever forcing you to eat a cheeseburger for breakfast,” Sebastian countered. The smack that followed painted a vivid picture in Ominis’s mind—a triumphant palm slapped to a forehead.
“Cheeseburger for breakfast! I need to write that down somewhere. It’s a game-changer.”
Ominis’ milky eyes rolled in a wide arc. Laughing, Sebastian caught him by the wrist and caged him between his legs—only then did Ominis realize he’d sat down on the kitchen island.
His free hand landed on the boy’s bare shoulder, feeling just the slightest hint of tension in the muscles beneath.
He resisted the urge to knead that tight spot under his fingers. He knew exactly where it would lead. Massages always led to that.
And as much as he didn’t mind the idea of a nice bit of morning sex, they really didn’t have time to fool around right now.
“Please tell me you’re at least wearing pants.”
If a grin could make a sound, Ominis would’ve sworn Sebastian’s was singing.
“Christ, Sebastian, I eat there.”
“Relax, I am wearing pants.”
Ominis’ hand was repositioned onto Sebastian’s thigh, his fingertips brushing the hem of a pair of boxers.
“Wanna double check?”
That bratty grin was all over his voice.
The bastard.
“Nice try. I bet Garreth would be just thrilled to catch us going at it in the kitchen.”
An annoyed groan slipped from Sebastian’s lips.
“Shit. I forgot.”
“You make a day at the beach sound like a death sentence.”
“Compared to the alternative? It is.”
Sebastian leaned over to check the clock on the wall—set ten minutes fast on purpose, since the two of them were quite the pair of habitual latecomers. Ominis took advantage of the squid's brief distraction to finish his yogurt.
“Well, we’ve still got a good half hour before he gets here,” Sebastian remarked.
He slid the empty container out of Ominis’ hand, placed it on the clear counter, and wrapped his arms around the blond’s neck.
Ominis couldn’t resist running his hands along Sebastian’s sides—the delicious curves just above his hip bone.
The love handles, he called them.
Sebastian planted a kiss on Ominis’s smooth cheek, then traced down along his jawline. His breath tickled the skin.
“I suggest we make the best of it.”
Ominis struggled to suppress a shiver.
It took a good deal of self-control to pull away from Sebastian—who responded by tightening his thighs even more around him.
“Yeah, by grabbing something to eat and then running off to brush your teeth. Your breath could raise the dead.”
“And you’re just mean. But I’m keeping you anyway. No returns at the dive bar I got you from.”
Reluctantly, he freed Ominis from his trap. He didn’t sound half as offended as he probably wanted to when he asked, “At least pass me an apple?”
Ominis grabbed an apple from the fridge. He caught Sebastian’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, made him open his mouth, and pushed the fruit inside. Sebastian took a bite.
“And here I was hoping that would shut you up,” Ominis said in a mock-displeased tone.
“Mh,” Sebastian hummed, taking another bite straight from Ominis’ hand. “Kinky.”
Ominis forced himself to go take a shower before he could slam Sebastian onto the kitchen island and do something that would turn their tardiness from a possibility into an absolute certainty.
Just under an hour later, a black Volkswagen—long past its glory days—honked as it pulled into the driveway of their apartment building.
Sebastian and Ominis were already outside, dressed in shorts and light shirts—one in simple flip-flops, the other in canvas shoes. A shoulder bag hung at Sebastian’s side, packed with their lunch.
Sebastian was huffing, while Ominis leaned against a concrete pillar supporting the building, idly fanning himself with his hand.
By now, it was late morning, and yes—the heat was definitely starting to kick in.
“About damn time!” Sebastian hollered at the red-haired bush appearing at the driver’s side window.
Garreth gave a casual wave, his freckled face perfectly unbothered.
“Sorry, had to pick up the princess first.”
Anne gave them a thumbs-up from behind the windshield.
“Hurry up! We’ve got AC in the car.”
Ominis settled into the back seat, fiddling with his seatbelt until a sharp click snapped in both his and Sebastian’s ears. Sebastian closed the door and went around to take his seat.
“Nice sunglasses, Gaunt,” Garreth said, nodding toward the Ray-Bans perched on Ominis’s nose through the rearview mirror.
“Thanks. Sebastian says I look dashing in them.”
“Yeah, take a good look, Weasley. It’s all you’re gonna get,” Sebastian said as he settled next to Ominis.
Garreth clicked his tongue and shifted into reverse.
“Not interested, thanks. Nothing personal, Ominis. You’re missing a few things I’m really into.”
“I’m going to cry myself to sleep tonight,” Ominis replied, theatrically wounded.
“Playlist connected,” Anne announced, lifting her head from her phone.
“Who put Anne in charge of the music?” Sebastian objected.
“I did,” Garreth said, just as the notes of an unknown indie band began filling the car. “No way I’m making another trip listening to just Madonna and Celine Dion from you two in the back. Annie, set the GPS?”
“Annie,” Ominis teased into Sebastian’s ear. The other responded with a choked sound, like he was about to vomit.
The drive to Poidsear Bay took about forty minutes. It wasn’t an overly crowded spot—most people their age preferred to spend the stifling summer afternoons at the fancier resorts dotted along the coast further south, between Clagmar and Manor Cape.
Poidsear’s sea was rougher and rockier, the beach scattered with jagged formations that jutted aggressively toward the sky. The bay they were heading to was a small hidden gem Garreth had discovered the previous year—a semicircular cove shielded from the waves by a cluster of rocks rising just over a hundred meters from the shore.
Not far from the bay, on a neatly kept lawn tended by locals, stood a handful of occasional bungalows, rented out at a decent price to the braver souls willing to stay overnight.
The group had booked two: one for Ominis and Sebastian, and one for Garreth and Anne. Sebastian was left wide-eyed by the discovery.
I had no idea you fancied him.
Anne had just shrugged.
Do I? He's fun, I guess.
And that had settled the matter between the two twins.
The sun hung high in the sky when the four of them finally set their bags down on the bay’s golden sand. A few seagulls circled overhead, screaming at the top of their lungs; a light breeze—more than welcome under the scorching heat—wafted across their faces, discouraging the beads of sweat threatening to roll down their brows.
While Anne and Ominis began spreading out their things on towels pulled from the bottom of some long-forgotten closet for the occasion, Sebastian and Garreth did their best to set up a couple of large, colorful umbrellas—without missing the chance to argue over the perfect angle to catch just the right shade, and how deep to dig to keep the umbrellas from toppling over their heads.
“Who do you think will drown who first?” Ominis asked Anne, only half-joking. “I’m placing my bets on Garreth.”
“I’ll drown them both if they don’t shut up,” Anne shot back, pulling off her shirt and grabbing the sunscreen from her bag. “Next time, it’s just you and me.”
"Say no more.”
“Ta-daa!” Garreth’s victorious cheer and the sudden shade from the unyielding sun made them both sigh in relief. It didn’t take long before they were all rushing toward the shore, chasing the small waves that broke there, promising some sweet relief from the heat.
It would be a lie to say Ominis Gaunt was completely comfortable in the water. He wasn’t exactly afraid—at least, not anymore, not for years. But not being able to see where he was going definitely made it harder to give up the safety of sunbathing on the shore and trust himself to the treacherous jaws of a vast, watery abyss, just waiting for one wrong step to swallow him whole.
What he hated most was the growing pressure in his chest as the water crept higher and higher, reaching his shoulders, threatening—he felt—as if it might tighten around his neck at any moment.
Luckily, Sebastian was there to chase away those distressing feelings one by one.
"Hold my hand,” he offered, and Ominis was more than happy to oblige. A flicker of embarrassment crept in—he felt as helpless as a child taking their first strokes in the pool—but there was comfort in the way Sebastian kept him close, cutting through the water, describing everything around him as it moved, turning him, guiding him wherever he pleased.
Trust came easily under the spell of Sebastian’s safe grip, the steady anchor of his words.
And he didn’t even swallow that much seawater.
“Hear how he flirts.”
Sebastian sounded almost offended when he whispered in his ear.
Ominis perked up. He barely caught the tail end of one of Garreth’s unlikely jokes, followed by Anne’s light laughter.
He was safely nestled in Sebastian’s arms, his weight—though he was definitely the tallest of the two—annulled in the vast blue around them. Ominis’ legs wrapped tightly around Sebastian’s hips, arms draped around his neck as if he were being cradled. His eyes were closed, his cheek damp against the other’s.
That, combined with the gentle rush of the waves, would have been enough to lull him to sleep—if it weren't for the annoying quiver of goosebumps sprouting with every kiss of wind.
He shifted slightly as Sebastian carried on with his argument.
“I hope the bungalows are soundproof.”
“I remember when peace used to reign in this group.”
“Yeah, well, that was before Weasley found out my sister’s a girl.”
“You gotta hand it to him, it took him long enough.”
A cheeky curve played at the corner of Sebastian's mouth.
"Are you cold?" He inquired, lips pressing against the damp hair on Ominis’ temple.
"A little."
“You look like a wet kitten, all curled up and shivering like that."
“That’s something you tell me far too often.”
Ominis’ fingers toyed with the short leather cord around Sebastian’s neck, twirling the wooden fishhook pendant between thumb and forefinger.
“A cat on a brick wall in the open countryside. Smelling of wildflowers and purring.”
He traced the line between Sebastian’s pectorals, then spread his fingers across his chest.
“I don’t purr.”
Sebastian tightened his grip. Ominis’ groin brushed against his, stirring in interest.
“Remind me of that later tonight.”
The leather cord drew Sebastian closer to Ominis' cocky grin.
“Oh, I will.”
He really hoped the bungalows were soundproof.
“Ever heard of indecent acts in a public place, Sallow?”
“Ever heard of minding your own business, Weasley?”
The lunch was rather simple. Everyone had brought sandwiches and a modest supply of beer. It was enough, anyway, to send Garreth into a couple of hours’ nap in the shade, fingers interlaced on his belly and a straw hat tipped over his face, blissfully unaware of the set of blackmail photo souvenirs—courtesy of both twins.
Anne put on sunglasses and earphones, her crossed legs swaying in sync with the music, while a distinctive rustle signaled Sebastian opening a book. Not once did he let go of Ominis' calf as he moved from one page to the next.
Against his better judgment, Ominis decided to risk a few minutes under the scorching sun, trying for a tan he knew would never come. The unfortunate side effect of his aristocratic pallor.
He lay down on his towel, hands clasped behind his neck, a few beads of sweat blooming across his torso and the lingering notion of Sebastian’s hungry gaze fixed on him.
“Am I distracting you?”
“Your fault for looking like that. I can always go back to my book if it bothers you.”
Ominis slowly pushed himself up, leaning back on his arms, and tilted his head—knowing Sebastian would get lost in the sinuous line of his exposed neck.
“Don’t even think about it.”
He resisted only a little longer before relenting to Sebastian’s warnings that all that harsh sun would give him some strange skin disease.
When Garreth finally woke up, he had to shake off the generous layer of sand the other three had buried him under. Then came another swim, another round of beers, and even an impromptu arm-wrestling match—which, to everyone’s surprise, saw none other than Sebastian come out on top.
“Great, now he’s got something else to brag about,” Garreth said with fake enthusiasm.
Sebastian replied with a rude gesture—but he was also the first to volunteer when Garreth suggested picking up some pizzas for a beachside feast.
Despite their best intentions, by the time evening fell and they closed the door of their bungalow behind them, Ominis and Sebastian barely had the energy to shower and pull on clean pajamas before collapsing into bed.
The mattress was soft, and a cool breeze drifted in through the window. Ominis caught the familiar sound of a bottle twisting open, followed by a clatter like tiny buttons tapping together, before one dropped into Sebastian’s open palm and vanished into the soft clink of a glass being lifted and set back down on the nightstand. The bed creaked as Sebastian sank into the mattress with a quiet sigh.
“Take the dirty shirt off the bed,” Ominis murmured, already halfway between this world and that of dreams.
A blind hand skimmed over the fabric of Sebastian’s pajamas but made no effort to tug at them.
“Later,” came the reply, tinged with a yawn.
Small circles traced over Ominis’ knuckles—soothing, calming.
He opened his eyes, torn from one kind of darkness and plunged into another—tense, trembling with something he couldn’t quite name.
Just inches away, someone was breathing shallowly, holding it in like they were trying to hide.
“Sebastian?” he whispered.
No answer, but the body beside him went rigid.
“Sorry.”
Oh, no.
Fighting against the weight of his own eyelids, Ominis turned onto his side. He was met by Sebastian’s back, the cotton damp and unpleasant against his skin.
He ran a careful hand along the tight line of Sebastian’s bicep, stroking slowly, up and down.
“Turn to me, love.”
After a beat, Sebastian obeyed. The sheets shuffled, pillows shifted, and his breath came ragged and hot against Ominis’ neck.
He didn’t reach for him. Just lay there, arms locked across his chest, short-trimmed nails biting into his own skin.
"Can I?”
Sebastian gave a nod. Ominis pulled him nearer—near enough to let him know he was there, present, a safe harbor. But not so near as to overwhelm.
The scent of salt filled Ominis’ nostrils, Sebastian’s wavy hair grazing the skin just beneath his nose.
“Bad dream?” he murmured against Sebastian’s forehead.
His fingers traced a gentle path along Sebastian’s arm.
The reply came dry, as if the moisture had drained from his mouth.
“Solomon.”
The word conjured cutting splinters of ill, unforgettable instants.
The piercing cries of sirens.
The acrid, burning sting of disinfectant and final judgments.
Anne’s sobs and curses.
The suffocating vice around his own heart, squeezing the air from his lungs during that endless, agonizing wait in the desolate hospital wing.
Stolen fragments of conversation from passing doctors.
...the car—reduced to a wreck…
…shards of glass everywhere. We had to stitch him up…
...the younger one might still pull through…
...rehabilitation will be necessary…
And then, the worst of all.
Time of death, 3:46 a.m.
“I shouldn’t have drunk so much,” Sebastian muttered against the fabric of his pajama shirt.
You barely touched your beer, Ominis was about to mention, but then he realized—Sebastian wasn’t talking about that day at all.
Sebastian leaned into Ominis' embrace, resting his head against his chest, right over the steady thump-thump pulsing beneath.
Something inside Ominis twisted painfully as Sebastian’s breathing broke into silent sobs.
He held him through it all, easing the tremors, letting his shirt drink the tears flowing freely from Sebastian’s lashes.
Sebastian felt so small in his arms, as though he wanted to vanish entirely. As though, somewhere deep in his troubled mind, he already had—and yet something inside him fought to hold on to the undeniable truth: he was still here, real, lying in that bed, alive among the living.
There wasn’t much Ominis could say. Some wounds, even years old, can’t be healed with words. Can’t be healed with anything. You just watch them open and close, following the recurring rhythm of a refrain, and learn to dance around them. You build the story of a life around them—with a few skips, a few holes, a few repetitions, even. But you force the story out of you nonetheless.
Sebastian was a brilliant writer in that sense—better than Ominis in many ways. He had woven novels and poems around Ominis’ wounds. But sometimes, he’d lose the thread.
And when that happened, Ominis would sift through the layers of regret and doubt until he found it again.
He’d hand it back to him, remind him who he was, what he was capable of creating.
And Sebastian would start creating again—for both of them.
He waited just outside the gates of hell. Stood by him when he came back through.
The muscles beneath his fingers were still taut, but at least he had stopped shaking.
He kept sniffing quietly from time to time, as if trying not to be heard—as if Ominis weren’t there precisely for that.
After what felt like an eternity, Sebastian loosened the protective knot of his arms and hooked a finger into the collar of Ominis’ pajama shirt.
The embryo of an embrace—everything he could manage in that moment—and Ominis wouldn’t have asked for anything more.
"Sorry," he said again.
"It’s okay."
"No, really. I'm sorry I'm like this."
"Stop. Don’t ever say that."
Silence fell—the kind of silence that spoke volumes. A flood held back by poorly built dams—one wrong word, one breath too sharp, and it would all come crashing down.
Ominis reflected. He reflected long and hard, until he elected one thought above the rest.
“I have an idea,” he whispered to the curled-up shape of the boy. “Want to come with me?”
Sebastian seemed to weigh the offer, then shrugged.
He decided to take that as a yes.
He pulled Sebastian upright. There was no resistance as he slipped off the damp pajama shirt and replaced it with the crumpled one he’d worn all day, still lying at the foot of the bed.
There was something so disarming about Sebastian’s absence, his total detachment, that Ominis decided to hurry up and forgo changing—they would unlikely run into anyone at this hour anyway.
“Where are we going?” Sebastian asked as soon as they stepped out of the bungalow.
“Trust me.”
Moonlight spilled down, cold and distant, over the sleeping shapes of the landscape around the bay.
The pebbles lining the path, bordered by a few carefully tended flowerbeds, shimmered softly in the quiet glow, muffling the sound of their footsteps.
Ominis had learned early in life how to orient himself quickly in unfamiliar places.
He had a pretty clear sense of how to reach the beach. It was, after all, a mostly straight path, with only a single curve near the end.
Still, he moved with cautious, deliberate steps.
He hadn’t brought his white cane, figuring it would be more of a hindrance than a help, since midnight strolls hadn’t exactly been part of the plan.
And yet, here he was: venturing into the dark for Sebastian’s sake.
Truly, the boyfriend of the year.
He just hoped Sebastian would be alert enough to nudge him if some wild creature decided to leap out of a bush right in front of him.
The bay breeze greeted them with all the grace of a pleased host. It was cool, not too strong. It carried tiny droplets of water that pattered softly against their faces as they neared the shore.
“What are you doing?” Sebastian asked as Ominis began slipping off his shoes.
“I felt like going for a swim.”
His pajama shirt came next, dropped carelessly onto the sand.
“But you don’t have a swimsuit,” Sebastian pointed out—though any further objection died on his tongue the moment Ominis stood naked before him.
The water wasn’t as cold as it had been all day, yet goosebumps dotted Ominis’ skin as he waded in.
The calm sea welcomed him as if it had been waiting for him all along, gentle splashes rising like a melody around his body as he sank deeper.
He made peace with the water.
Let it rise over his shoulders, along his neck, beneath his chin.
He took a breath and dove.
It wasn’t too bad.
In that separate world—one of overwhelming, almost unsettling peace, made of slippery walls and muffled sounds—he heard Sebastian’s voice calling to him, somewhere between worry and a small, flickering spark of surprise.
A few bubbles escaped his teeth as he smiled.
He surfaced a little further ahead, oxygen rushing back into his lungs, the taste of salt on his lips, hair plastered to his forehead.
"Care to join?"
He could practically feel Sebastian’s eyes roaming over his form—his hand threading through dark golden hair as he slicked it back, droplets cascading down his earlobes, the tip of his nose, chin, arms, and chest.
The way the moonlight must have played on him, bathing him in an almost divine halo.
He didn’t need sight to know he was a vision.
He was sure he’d won when Sebastian’s clothes met the sand with a soft thud.
“Come to me,” he encouraged, extending his arms toward the open water before him. “Hold my hand.”
“You’re crazy,” Sebastian said, the shadow of a laugh in his tone.
A pair of hands—smaller and softer than his own—met his halfway.
“The blind leading the depressed. Quite the pair we make.”
“Works wonderfully, in my opinion.”
Ominis kissed the knuckles of Sebastian’s hand, savoring the way the other's thumb gently slid along the underside of his jaw as he did.
He felt brave enough to step back a few paces, pushing himself into slightly deeper water. Sebastian followed in his wake.
“If we drown, no one will hear us,” Sebastian warned.
“Then don't let me drown.”
Ominis decided to push his limits.
He bent his knees to keep from touching the bottom, but his stomach sank when, for the briefest moment, the water seemed to fail him.
Sebastian pulled him back to the surface, and Ominis snorted at the stern firmness of his grip on his wrist.
“You need to relax, Om, or the water will drag you down.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re lying.”
“I’m not. Lots of people panic and die.”
“Help me float.”
After a second failed attempt, Ominis managed to find the position he wanted.
Lying on his back on the sea’s surface, little waves met and rose over his body, playing over his torso, thighs, tickling his feet and sides, filling his ears.
It was magical.
He could’ve almost let himself slip away. What kept him grounded, really, were Sebastian’s steady hands holding his, the warm, reassuring presence of his belly against the back of his head, as he gently guided him along abstract paths in the water.
“Spread your arms and stay still. If you struggle, I’ll catch you.”
“Okay.”
“On three.”
Sebastian counted slowly to two, then released his hold on Ominis.
The boy stayed afloat.
A glimmer of pride slipped through Sebastian’s cheer.
“Who would've thought I’m dating a mermaid?”
A small laugh caught in Ominis’ throat. He was afraid that if he made a sound, he’d sink. He focused on his breathing, slowly inhaling and exhaling.
“I suppose it should be merman,” he couldn't help but correct him in the end.
Sebastian ignored him. A gurgle, and Ominis realized he’d disappeared beneath the surface.
“Sebastian?”
No answer. Again.
“Seb,” he tried once more.
A ripple of panic started to spread through his ribs.
“Sebastian!” he yelled, and made the mistake of trying to move.
The sea rose above him, tipping his balance—and that would have been enough to pull him under, but a hand emerged from the water, faster, sliding across his face and hauling him beneath the waves.
A strangled sound escaped him as he fought to come up.
Which he did, very quickly, having been dragged just beneath the surface.
"You absolute idiot,” he hissed through gritted teeth, but couldn’t suppress the relief washing over him at the sound of Sebastian’s hearty cackle ringing in his ears.
“Sebastian Sallow, when I catch you—”
“I’d like to see you try!”
Water splashed wildly around them as Sebastian darted away from Ominis’ vengeful grasp, laughing at each failed attempt.
“Bullying a blind man, how noble of you!”
“I’m helping you train your senses!”
The water tugged at Sebastian’s legs, slowing him just enough. Following the sound of his voice, Ominis lunged and, with a lucky grab, caught him around the waist, yanking him back into his arms.
“Not so smug now, are you?"
The last word broke into a gasp as he felt a resolute grip close around him. Right there.
Sebastian's laughter faded into a cadence of brief pants as he tried to catch his breath, turning his head slightly to take a better look at Ominis' face. The boy's cheeks flushed deliciously as Sebastian slowly started working his hand around his cock.
"You're not playing fair," Ominis rasped.
Sebastian let out a low hum. Something in it made Ominis' insides twist in arousal.
"When have I ever?"
"Anyone could come here and—mmh."
"Nobody's coming, love."
Sebastian's hand travelled up and down at a slow, tormenting pace. Ominis could feel himself growing harder by the second—a powerless prey to Sebastian's sly, relentless fingers.
"You're all mine."
Sebastian placed an open-mouthed kiss against his cheekbone, and that was when Ominis decided he'd waited enough.
He turned Sebastian around and found his lips, his tongue slipping inside his hot mouth, claiming it, claiming him. He revelled in the sensation of how hard he already was against him.
Sebastian fought back, one hand gripping fiercely the base of his hair, the other still working his ministrations on Ominis' cock, eliciting wonderful moans that spilled straight into his own mouth.
Ominis knew exactly what he had to do.
He knew how those episodes left something in Sebastian—something hidden, unreachable, an ache so profound it could shut him down for hours, sometimes even days.
He knew when that happened, all Sebastian wanted was not to be treated like the phantom he felt he was.
He knew Sebastian needed to feel useful, good for something, to have control.
And so, Ominis let himself be controlled.
Sebastian's tongue found its way from his mouth to his neck, licking long stripes of the salty water gathered there. He delivered kisses and bites in cruel, equal measure.
He sucked at his earlobe, sending Ominis' unseeing eyes to roll back in his skull.
"Fuck," he breathed, and Sebastian took it as a sign to quicken the pace of his hand. Ominis’ nails dug into the soft flesh of his shoulders.
"How I love that dirty mouth of yours," Sebastian teased, lips tracing the words along Ominis' collarbone. "I wanna hear more of it."
He was rewarded as his thumb ventured to the tip of Ominis' cock, playing with the precum glistening atop.
"F-fuck, Sebastian, I-"
A groan of protest escaped Ominis as all hands suddenly left his body, leaving him in a temporary, frustrating, solitary darkness.
He barely registered the feel of Sebastian’s touch on his chest, or the words that came with it, as he was tugged forward, toward—
"The rocks."
He allowed Sebastian to lift him onto a wet, uneven surface.
His fingers clumsily searched for holds as Sebastian wasted no time seizing his mouth again.
The water was shallow there—it must have been a sandbar or a tide pool. It lapped at Ominis’ ankles, splashing around Sebastian’s knees as he moved.
Instinctively, yielding to the pressure of Sebastian’s body, Ominis lay back on the rock.
The jagged surface would leave scratches on his back, and a distant part of him noted that they would've been far more comfortable lying on the sand—but none of it seemed to matter, not with the feeling of Sebastian’s wild hair tangled in his fingers as he moved down his chest, seizing one of his pink nipples between his teeth, pulling slightly.
"Fuck," he moaned again.
"Yeah, love, exactly like that."
Sebastian’s low laugh was intoxicating.
If Ominis could bottle that sound, he thought, he’d drink it until he lost his mind, on and on forever until it killed him, and he’d go gladly.
A trail of kisses made its way down his abdomen, lingering in the short blond hairs just below his navel, where his skin trembled from the ticklish sensation, threatening to go even lower—and God, he could’ve snapped if Sebastian didn’t hurry the hell up.
He moved down to his thighs, worshipping the soft flesh, alternating between biting hard enough to leave marks and soothing the pain with merciful swirls of his tongue. Ominis' otherwise painfully neglected cock twitched desperately when he casually hit it with his cheek.
"Seb, please..."
"Please, what?" Sebastian murmured, hot breath ghosting over the smooth flesh of his member.
"Please, fuck me," he sighed.
A broken groan escaped him when Sebastian licked the base of his cock, then moved lower. He felt the slightest pressure between his buttocks, the wet tip of Sebastian's tongue teasing his entrance, just before retracting.
He was reeling.
"I need you to help me, love. I wouldn't want to hurt you."
He felt Sebastian sway away from him, only to cover the whole of him with his body, tracing the outline of his lips with his fingers.
"Open your mouth for me."
He did. Sebastian's index and middle finger conquered his mouth, sliding over his tongue, getting dangerously close to his throat.
He started pumping his fingers in and out, slowly enough to gather saliva around them, coating them completely. Ominis unleashed the most obscene sounds, heaving and gagging around them.
Only when Sebastian was satisfied did he give him some respite—but only as long as he circled his hole, causing Ominis' breath to hitch right as it was starting to flow again.
He pushed his fingers inside slowly, at first, tentatively discovering the velvety tightness, before going deeper. He was careful to any sign of discomfort that might come of Ominis, but the blond was too caught up in his ecstatic bliss to care about anything that wasn't Sebastian's fingers stretching him so beautifully.
That was until a third finger was added.
"Sebastian-ah!"
"Shh, it's alright, love, take it."
He hastened his rhythm, curling his fingers until they found that familiar spot which had Ominis crumbling every time.
"You're doing so good. You're so fucking gorgeous, all spread open for me. Bet you can't wait til I bury my cock in this perfect ass, do you?"
"P-please," was all Ominis managed to utter. "Sebastian, please."
"I want to hear it."
"Fuck-ah-fuck my ass!"
Omins felt a sudden emptiness as Sebastian's fingers slipped out of him. He tried to collect his breath, his heart pounding with such force it might shatter him.
Slick liquid gathered around his tip, sliding down his aching cock.
He was so, so close.
Something hard and equally wet nudged at his lips.
He didn't need to be told what to do.
He submitted to Sebastian's cock the same way he'd submitted to his fingers, his tongue swirling and dancing all around it, spitting on it, every stimulation earning spectacular groans from the other boy.
His hand dared to leave its nest to massage the base. An uncontrolled twitch of Sebastian's hips sent it sliding deeper down his throat, each moaning shamelessly as it did.
He could come from that alone—the raw face-fucking, the way Sebastian was taking one hole after the other, marking every part of him, both inside and out, as irrevocably, undoubtedly his. He fought the desperate need to touch himself. He wanted Sebastian to touch him. He wanted Sebastian to finish him.
But Sebastian had other plans.
The water sloshed as he moved back to align himself with Ominis' entrance. Ominis' legs closed around his hips, urging him right where he most needed.
The head of Sebastian's cock slid in quite easily, what little resistance he met sparking a million little fires in Ominis' core. He found he could no longer modulate any words as Sebastian started rocking him at a steady pace, the smacking sound of flesh hitting flesh sending him in a spiral of pure dizziness.
"Tell me how I make you feel," Sebastian prompted. He hit a particularly good angle, causing Ominis to bite the back of his hand to suffocate a moan, but it was heard, loud and clear, regardless.
"G-good. You make me feel so good, Seb-ah!"
Sebastian pulled the hand covering his mouth away, pinning it against the rock.
"Only I can make you feel like this. Only I have the power to make you unravel. Tell me."
"Only you. Only you, I swear—fuck, Seb, don't stop, don't stop!"
"God, Ominis, you're so perfect."
Whatever edge of madness Ominis thought he'd been near before, it was nothing compared to when Sebastian’s free hand started pumping at his cock again.
The orgasm that came brought him to pieces, rearranged him from the insides, spilled his very humanity along with his seed. He was reduced to an animal, nothing more.
He couldn't think. He couldn't speak. He could only feel.
He moaned softly as Sebastian kept riding out his pleasure. He came inside him shortly after, pushing still, filling him up.
He collapsed onto him. Their shaky breaths merged together, drifting through the night air, echoing the rumbly song of the waves.
It took a minute before Sebastian found the strength to pull himself out of Ominis. He let himself slide down against the rock and into the water, panting as if his very life depended on each breath—like he was learning to breathe for the first time.
"That was the best sex we've had in a while," he said after a moment.
Ominis nodded. Now that his heart had settled into a normal rhythm, thinking came easier.
"I concur."
Sebastian reached for the back of his hand.
"Get down?"
Ominis couldn’t do much better than tentatively slipping down beside him.
The water murmured calmly around them. Silence enveloped them, seemingly crafted by nature itself—a silence that neither wanted to break, at least for a while.
There was something hauntingly, enchantingly surreal about how it felt like they were the only two living beings in that bay—and that one, the only bay in the whole universe.
Sebastian rested his head on Ominis’ shoulder, melting completely against him. The pads of his fingers were pruned from too much time in the water.
“Want to head back?” Ominis asked.
“Just five more minutes. I hadn’t realized how beautiful this place is.”
Sebastian’s cheek shifted against his shoulder as he looked up.
“I wish you could see the stars tonight.”
Almost reflexively, Ominis found himself following his movement. Of course, the night sky remained but a dark void for him.
“I like to think I don’t miss out on a great show.”
Sebastian’s chuckle faded into a shy murmur.
“Solomon said that’s where the people we lose end up. They live in the spaces between the stars and watch over us.”
"Considering what just happened, I sure hope they don’t."
The chuckle turned into a full laugh. It resonated through Sebastian, rippling through every atom of his body and into Ominis’—contagious, warm, like a sunbeam blooming under his skin.
“So for you, those who leave… they just leave, right? No pain, no unfinished business, no afterlife. It’s just a moment, and then... it’s gone.”
He snapped his fingers to emphasize the point.
“More or less. I think some part of them stays. The best parts.”
Ominis’ fingers brushed against Sebastian’s temple, where damp hair clung to his skin.
“They shape the way we think.”
Then he moved to Sebastian’s open palm.
“Inspire the things we do."
Finally, his hand hovered over Sebastian’s chest, above the calm thrum of his heart.
“And whatever good thing they leave behind, they leave it here.”
He paused there, fingertips barely grazing the steady pulse beneath.
Sebastian’s fingers met his, gliding gently over them.
“Maybe you’re right,” he whispered, resolve growing in his tone as he spoke. “It’s not a great show, up there.”
Ominis caught the slight lowering of his head as he leaned in.
“It's got nothing on you.”
He found he couldn’t quite give a serious answer—not with the sudden warmth flaring up in his cheeks, burning any intelligent comeback in its aftermath.
Five years, and it still felt like they’d only fallen in love a week ago.
“Yeah, tell me about it,” was all he could muster. Mild and forgettable. Great.
Sebastian stood up straight, the water moving with him as he positioned himself in front of Ominis. He cupped his face and placed a chaste kiss on his lips—not quite short, not quite long, filled with something Ominis couldn’t name but felt coursing through his veins, pumping blood to and from his heart, breathing life into him.
“I love you, Ominis Gaunt.”
“I love you, too.”
“And I’m going to marry you someday.”
His heart skipped a beat—and Ominis forgot about the very concept of air and where they were and when and why and how.
“Whoa,” he exhaled, but his smile didn’t falter—in fact, it shone unabashedly. “Those are… some serious words.”
“Aren’t I a man of my word?”
“People say a lot of things. I wouldn’t mind some kind of guarantee.”
Ominis could almost hear the gears turning in Sebastian's beautiful, brilliant brown head.
“A guarantee…”
Then that beautiful, brilliant head dipped back into the water.
They made their way back to the bungalows, fingers intertwined, whispering silly nothings, when Anne stormed toward them in her pajamas, her hair and face still bearing the unmistakable marks of sleep. She stomped hard on the pebble path, eyes blazing like a fierce goddess about to pass judgment.
“Where on earth have you two been?” she asked, relief creeping into her voice beneath the fading anger.
“We went for a walk,” Sebastian explained coolly. “What’s all the fuss about?” he added, nodding toward the open door of their bungalow, where a particularly disheveled Garreth appeared.
“What were you thinking, going out in the middle of the night—without your phones—and leaving the damn door wide open!”
“Oops,” Ominis grimaced. “My bad. I forgot to close it.”
“We thought someone had broken in—”
“We thought you’d been attacked by a wild boar,” Garreth chimed in, catching up behind her.
“When have wild boars ever been seen around here?” Sebastian argued.
“How should I know?”
“Why are you even up at this hour, anyway?”
Anne’s annoyance deflated with a forced sigh. “We wanted to ask if you’d like to come down to the beach. We were thinking of waiting for the sunrise there.”
Her eyes locked onto the small trophy glinting in the moonlight between Ominis’s fingers. “Why are you carrying around a rock?”
Ominis turned the smooth stone—about the size of his palm—tracing the delicate ripples on its uneven surface. It was black, streaked with pale veins.
“It’s a token,” he said with a smile. “A promise that stands against time and the waves, or so I'm told.”
Garreth and Anne exchanged confused looks.
“This is one of those times where I’m just waiting for you to explain what you just said and you’re not going to, right?” the redhead asked, scratching the back of his neck in exasperation.
“Goodnight, Garreth.” Sebastian stepped past him, dragging Ominis along.
“Enjoy the beach!” Ominis called out with a mischievous grin.
Despite their best intentions, sleep eluded both of them that night.
Turns out the bungalows weren’t soundproof, after all. Good thing Anne and Garreth weren’t there to complain.