Change.

“Contrary to where you always are, I knew I’d find you here.”

The sound of someone’s voice other than his made him perk up, but the gears of recognition turned fast enough so that he wouldn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“Not all that you’d expected, hm?” He merely responds, gazing out at a glittering sea, flashing good-byes in morse code with the sun’s setting rays.

“More than what I expected,” She approaches, and he can feel her presence behind him, but he doesn’t dare turn.

The wind peppers sand onto their cheeks and into their hair, pressing miniscule kisses of grains onto their skin. The two stay in silence, the only sounds being the beck and calls from birds, the hiss of waves hitting sand, and the voices and splashing of families in the water.

“Why do you prefer the beach over- let’s say- your home?” Her question floats down from above, curiosity painting her tone.

“The beach is never the same every time. It changes and it ebbs and it flows, but a room doesn’t.” He blinks, the answer coming out of him before he could really think about it. Before that, he never really knew why he came to the beach to distract himself, especially considering he was never down there to play in the water or the sand.

“You like the ‘ebb and flow’?” She mutters her thoughts out loud, quickly following with another question. “You like change then?”

“I don’t. Ironic, isn’t it? I’m at the farthest point from liking change.” He swings his legs, the huge drop from atop the seawall gaping underneath him. “I can’t handle change.”

A non-committal hum rings by his ear as she sits down beside him, kicking her feet in time with his. They don’t talk for a while, basking in the cacophony of laughing and splashing, cawing and sizzling. The foam on the sand flickers away before their eyes, the sound of fizzling sounding awfully like a farewell. The chatter and bits and pieces of conversation coming from the walkers passing behind them kept them entertained, coming up with scenarios of what happened before that when they’re out of earshot.

They stay like this for a little while longer, until the sun is barely peeking over the horizon, seemingly staying just to stare at them. It reminds him of a curious child, one too short to fully see over the counter. He stands, offering a hand to the girl next to him. She doesn’t see it until she’s already up, and takes his hand, thinking it was a request to hold hands. He doesn’t mind. It’s different from before, it’s become more intimate than he last remembers. A glance at her through his peripherals confirms this, a nervous, but confident shine in her eyes. He squeezes her hand, and the nervousness disappears, a soft squeeze his only response.

Maybe this change wasn’t so bad.