The day started with Liam’s stubborn insistence that he wanted a slushie before noon. Theo should have rolled his eyes and told him no, should have claimed the driver’s privilege of choosing when and where they stopped, but Liam had looked at him with those wide eyes and that tilt of his mouth that meant he’d already decided, and Theo found himself pulling off the road at a small gas station anyway.
The machine hummed in the corner, two bright levers labeled in red and blue, the flavors never quite what they promised but still perfect in their own way.
Liam filled one cup to the brim with blue raspberry, the color staining his fingers as soon as it splattered against the lid, and Theo leaned lazily against the counter, filling his with red cherry.
“You’re so predictable,” Theo said, lifting his cup. “You always get the raspberry.”
Liam took a long sip of his, lips already tinted, then grinned. “So are you. I’ve never seen you get a slushie that wasn’t cherry.”
Theo wanted to argue, to claim that he had range, that he wasn’t some creature of habit, but the truth was the sharp sweetness of cherry had long since etched itself into his routine.
Back outside, the heat wrapped around them like an embrace, heavy with the smell of asphalt and salt air drifting from somewhere ahead. Theo unlocked the van, its faded red paint gleaming like rust and sunburn in equal measure, and Liam climbed in with both cups balanced in his hands. His mismatched shoes hit the dashboard the moment Theo started the engine.
“I’m serious, Dunbar,” Theo said, shooting him a look. “You’re going to ruin the dash.”
Liam grinned, straw between his teeth, unbothered. “Then you’ll just have to keep me around long enough to replace it.”
Theo shook his head and continued to drive.
The road unfolded toward the coast, winding through stretches of dry grass and clusters of wildflowers. Windows rolled down, air rushing in, the van smelled faintly of sunscreen, cherries, and the ocean they hadn’t quite reached yet. Liam leaned out, letting the wind whip his hair, holding his drink against his chest like he didn’t care that some of it sloshed onto his shirt. He looked — Theo thought — not like the restless hurricane of a boy he’d first met, but something steadier, softer. A summer day stretched into skin.
When the lighthouse came into view, white tower capped with red, Liam sat up straighter. “Let’s stop here.”
Theo hesitated. “We’ve got at least an hour before—”
There it was again, that tone that meant Liam wasn’t asking. Theo sighed, but he was smiling as he pulled the van into the gravel lot.
The lighthouse stood on the edge of the world, or at least it felt like it. The sea stretched out endlessly, glittering under the sun, and the sky above it was impossibly wide, a canvas painted in every shade of blue. Liam bounded ahead, sneakers scuffing against the worn path, and Theo followed with slower steps, hands shoved into his pockets. He wasn’t in any rush. He liked watching Liam’s energy spark and ripple, like he was part of the tide itself.
They reached the railing, the ocean sprawling below, waves slamming against the rocks and throwing salt into the air. Liam leaned forward, elbows braced, hair whipping across his forehead. Theo stood beside him, close enough that their arms brushed, not moving away.
For a while, neither of them said anything. The world was too big, too loud with the sound of crashing water, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was easy.
Liam was the first to break the silence. “When I was little, I thought lighthouses were filled with magic.”
Theo raised a brow. “Magic?”
“Yeah.” Liam grinned, eyes still on the horizon. “Like, they kept the sea monsters away. I used to imagine this giant octopus living out there, and the light had this magic that scared it off.”
Theo laughed, a sharp sound that carried over the waves. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not!” Liam shot back, nudging him with his shoulder. “You’re telling me you never made up stories like that?”
“I didn’t really have time for stories,” Theo said, but there wasn’t bitterness in his voice. Just truth.
Liam turned then, looking at him with a softness that made Theo want to look away but couldn’t. “Guess I’ll just have to tell you mine, then.”
Theo didn’t answer, just let a smile creep into his lips.
They stayed like that for longer than Theo meant to — sun warming their backs, the world blurring into red rooftops and blue sky, Liam’s voice weaving stories about sea monsters and heroes, about boats and storms and the lighthouse always standing guard. Theo found himself listening, really listening, and for once he didn’t feel the urge to be anywhere else.
When they finally walked back to the van, the pavement radiated heat beneath their shoes. Liam tugged at Theo’s wrist, pulling him toward a small fruit stand set up by the lot. A wooden table, a white umbrella striped with red and blue, and baskets of cherries glistening in the sun.
“They’re perfect,” Liam said, already digging out a few crumpled bills from his pocket.
Theo shook his head, amused, but let him buy them. They sat on the hood of the van, legs stretched out, sharing the cherries straight from the basket. Juice stained their fingers, sweet and sticky, and Liam laughed when Theo flicked a pit at him. He retaliated by tossing one back, hitting Theo square in the chest.
“Childish,” Theo muttered, but he was smiling.
“You love it,” Liam shot back, popping another cherry into his mouth. “Plus, you started it.”
The sun dipped lower, turning the sky to fire. Red streaks bled into soft shades of blue, the whole world painted in their colors. Liam leaned back against the windshield, head tilted toward Theo, and Theo let himself lean, too, until their shoulders pressed together.
“You ever think about how weird it is?” Liam asked suddenly.
Theo glanced at him. “How weird what is?”
“How we end up here,” Liam said, voice soft, eyes reflecting the burning sky. “Like—out of everyone, every turn, it’s you. Us. Sitting on some beat-up van, eating cherries, watching the sunset. It feels…written, y’know? Like maybe the universe knew what it was doing. Like this is normal.”
Theo followed Liam’s gaze out toward the horizon, the waves catching fire where the sunlight touched them. For a second, he almost made a joke about the universe not giving a damn, about fate being messy and mean, but Liam looked so content — eyes half-lidded, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth — that Theo didn’t want to ruin it.
“Written, huh?” Theo said instead. “I didn’t realize you were such a poet.”
Liam laughed, a short huff that made his shoulders bump against Theo’s. “Don’t make fun of me. I’m serious.”
“I’m not making fun.” Theo let his voice soften, surprising himself. “I’m just saying, if this is the universe’s big plan, it’s got an interesting taste in settings.”
Liam gestured at the lighthouse in the distance, at the striped umbrella swaying over the fruit stand, at the sun bleeding red into the water. “What’s wrong with this? It’s perfect.”
Theo’s lips twitched. “It’s sticky. And loud. And your shoes don’t even match.”
“They match each other,” Liam countered easily, sticking one foot in the air so the red and blue laces caught the light. “Balance, remember? You should be thanking me. Without me, you’d just be sitting here in your boring shoes, drinking your boring cherry slushie, not even realizing how good blue raspberry is.”
Theo raised a brow. “You’re calling cherry boring?”
“Completely boring,” Liam said with full conviction, though he was grinning wide now, like he knew exactly what he was doing.
Theo shook his head, pretending to sigh, but the truth was that Liam’s energy made everything feel lighter, easier. Like maybe the universe really had been onto something.
A breeze picked up, carrying salt and the faint sweetness of cherries. Liam leaned back further, stretching until his arm brushed against Theo’s in a way that didn’t feel accidental. “So…do you ever think about it?”
“About us,” Liam said, tilting his head toward Theo with a mischievous little smile. “About how maybe we’re, like…red and blue. Totally different, but somehow they work good together.”
Theo huffed a laugh, low and fond. “You’ve been waiting all day to use that metaphor, haven’t you?”
“Maybe,” Liam admitted, not looking the least bit guilty.
Theo let the silence linger a beat, then nudged him with his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously handsome,” Liam said, eyes on the horizon again, although he titled his head to smirk at Theo.
Theo rolled his eyes so hard Liam could probably hear it. “Wow. Groundbreaking observation.”
“You didn’t deny it,” Liam shot back instantly, smugness radiating off him like heat from the asphalt.
Theo reached for another cherry, tossing it casually into his mouth before replying. “Didn’t seem worth the energy. Besides, your ego doesn’t need more fuel.”
“Wrong,” Liam said through a grin. “It needs constant fuel. Like a campfire. You can’t just toss one log in and expect it to last. You gotta keep feeding it.”
Theo gave him a flat look. “So now you’re a poet and a philosopher?”
“And handsome,” Liam added quickly. “Don’t forget that part.”
Theo shook his head, but there was no bite in it, only amusement. Liam had that effect on him — turning sharp edges into something soft, something almost playful.
The breeze ruffled Liam’s hair again, and he shoved it out of his face with a huff, leaving a faint streak of cherry juice across his temple where his fingers brushed. Theo noticed before Liam did
“You’ve got… something,” Theo said, gesturing vaguely at his own face.
“What? Where?” Liam’s hand shot up immediately, fumbling around like he was playing charades with himself.
Theo couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out. “No, not there. Higher. You’re just smearing it more now—stop—”
Liam kept swiping at his forehead until Theo sighed and reached over, brushing his thumb gently across the sticky streak. It came away red, glinting faintly in the fading light.
Theo held up his thumb like evidence. “See? You’re a mess.”
Liam blinked at him, then grinned. “You just wanted an excuse to touch my face.”
Theo scoffed. “Yeah, because cleaning cherry juice off you is definitely top of my bucket list.”
Liam’s grin only widened, the kind that always managed to tug a reluctant smile from Theo in return. “You’re welcome, then. Glad I could help you check something off your list.”
Theo shook his head, tossing the cherry pit in his hand into the basket. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” Liam said, leaning back against the windshield, “you’re still dating me.”
Theo didn’t bother answering. He just stretched out beside him, letting their shoulders press together again. The sun had dropped lower, smearing the sky with streaks of red and blue that bled into purple, the colors mirroring the sneakers propped on the dash and the half-empty cups forgotten by their feet.
A gull screeched overhead, startling Liam enough that he nearly tipped the basket of cherries into his lap. Theo caught it just in time, smirking. “Graceful as ever.”
“Hey, I’m on working on perfecting it,” Liam said, laughing at himself.
Theo glanced at him then, really looked — the flushed cheeks from the sun, the blue stains on his lips, the easy joy he carried like it was nothing.
A smile tugs at his mouth. “I think you’re pretty close to perfect already.”
Liam blinked at him, caught between surprise and the kind of smile that started slow and took over his whole face. “You’re actually sweet sometimes, you know that?”
“Don’t spread it around,” Theo muttered, though his hand found Liam’s without thinking.
Liam laced their fingers together, warm and steady, and leaned his head against Theo’s shoulder. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
The world seemed to quiet around them, leaving only the soft crash of waves and the rhythm of their breathing. For once, Theo didn’t feel restless or sharp — just content, right where he was.
