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Boys with their heads in the clouds.
Yoichi hugs Meguru with a gentle strength, lifting him up and watching with passion his fluttering, bright orange hair against the light of the sunset. The sea breeze fills them with dreams, each one crumbling into golden sand grains like gold dust, slipping between their toes, rising up to their ankles before being washed away by the foam of the sea.
Footprints are left along the beach slope, slowly erased by the lick of the blue water. Their intertwined hands sweat from a heat that belongs to them until Meguru lets go of Yoichi's hand and runs ahead, wearing those little high-waisted shorts, carving a path through the water that splashes around. He spreads his arms and shouts to the sea, but only Yoichi can truly hear him. No one else.
"All I am is a man," he panted, his eyes shining under the twilight and the dark ocean. "I want the world in my hands!"
And Yoichi laughs, chasing his boyfriend down the sand as the strong wind messily tosses their hair.
"The world might cost a lot, Meguru."
Meguru laughs at the crashing waves. The foam tickles his calves, the ground uncertain under his feet, the smell of seaweed, and moments thrown away, forever carried by the waves, dead on the shore — he didn’t want to know any of that. It’s still summer. He has the sunset in the palm of his hands, just open his fingers and take it possessively.
"It certainly doesn’t cost a smile of yours, Yoichi."
Let's go back to that summer again, Yoichi. The one where we’re sun-kissed boys shining under the hot sun of the Oarai coast, dancing on endless sand until it leads into foam and waves that break infinitely.
But this isn’t a summer love. It’s a love for life. The way you touched me, hugged me, please don’t tell me this is just a seasonal thing. Even the warmth of spring, the affection of autumn, and the breath of winter — all those moments when you were here, holding my hands and making me yours, this has to be forever. Yoichi, this is what I’m talking about!
And their bodies melting on the slope. When they met again, it was hands around the neck and wrapped around the waist, a love on their lips, now as one. The shivers are there, arriving, each one completing the sound of the foamy sighs of passion. No shirt, no blouse. That taste of salt. And when it’s summer again, it’s as warm inside them as it is outside. These hearts adore.
The heated love on the beach.