The sand squishes beneath my toes, fine grains soft and wet against the soles of my feet. The sand looks almost silver in the soft light of the night sky, clear and cloudless above me, and the slightly pink tinted face of the moon high above. I take a few paces forwards, watching the water bleed out of the sand as my weight compresses it. The night is cold and the seafront is quiet, empty. It's gorgeous.

Small waves lap at my feet, the wave fronts just tickling my toes, softly caressing them, and I step a little further out, so that they wash over my feet and reach above my ankles before receding. Only to be replaced by another wave tumbling over, up the beach. I can feel the water pulling the sand from beneath my feet with each successive wave. It's calming.

I turn sideways, starting to walk along the seafront in the shallows, my strides dragging, leaving no footprints. The night is cool and the water is nothing short of cold but I'm wearing just a loose t-shirt and denim capris, my flip flops dangling from the fingers of one hand lest they get washed away; the tide’s coming in. It's so quiet here – the only sounds my hushed breathing, the splashing of my feet, the whispers of the ocean against sand, against itself. No herself. I wonder if she notices a little interruption as small as me, wading, walking. Probably not.

The quiet is comforting and the absence of other people seems to make the beach even more beautiful. In the daytime, the golden dunes are awash with people, anywhere and everywhere, loud and colourful and busy. Living. Now, my companions are the sea creatures and the animals that I cannot see but I'm sure are around. They're busy living too but it's a quieter affair. Humans are so disruptive.

I stop walking for a bit, turning back out to face the sea. At this time, it's a deep inky blue, so dark it's almost black, flecks of white dancing across the ever changing surface, a hazy, undefined reflection of the moon, shimmering across the water. I'm not sure I've ever seen anything more beautiful. No, I lie; I have.

Hakyeon.

I smile softly, stepping out a little deeper, feeling the shells under my soles, the sand rolling over my feet. The water soaks into the bottoms of my capris and they stick to me, heavy and wet, but they'll dry. I remember earlier today, when Hakyeon refused to follow me into the water, dressed appropriately but whining softly about the cold and the potential for animals and fish to touch his bare feet. So I laughed and cupped his face and piggybacked him into the water until the waves brushed his feet and he squealed and scrambled down, immediately toppling over and achieving, in moments, what hours of cajoling could not. One suitably soaked Hakyeon sitting in the sea, smile plastered across his face as he laughed at his own jumpy nature. See, I'd told him, it's not bad at all, it's barely even cold. And he'd nodded and taken my hands to get back to his feet in order to shove me down only seconds later. We'd played and enjoyed ourselves and he came to wonder why he'd never gone in the sea before, why he'd been too scared to try something so fun and he turned to me and he said, I'm glad I have you to show me I can do the things I think I can't. I could have melted. He is always so utterly sweet to me.

And then, later, back in our hotel room, when all (well most of) the sand was washed away, we'd lain on the bed and talked, his hand found mine and he said it again, I'm glad I have you. I wanted to say it back, but I choked on the words. I sat up instead, and gazed down at him, took in the sincerity in his eyes until I couldn't bear it. I ran my fingers through his honey blonde hair so I didn't have to meet his gaze, allowed the tips of my fingers to dance along the tanned almond skin of his face, his neck, until his eyes closed and I felt like I could breathe. Like now, with the cold water running around my feet and the cool night air in my hair. And I opened my mouth to speak and he said, I know. He said, I know you don't know how to say it back but I know, Wonshik, thank you. And the first tear dropped onto his cheekbone just like the one that just trickled from the tip of my chin and dropped into the eternity of the sea. I wonder if she can single out a single tear amongst every drop of saltwater that makes her up. I suppose not.

Wiping hastily at my eyes, I step a little deeper again. I'm so lucky to have Hakyeon, not the other way around. I'm blessed to be gifted with his smiles, his frowns, his ups and his downs, his highs when he feels like he's flying and the lows when he thinks he's drowning. That he'll let me see so much of him and is willing to see the ugly sides of me, the sides I don't want to show anyone else. Can't.

When I'm fragile and weak and feel like I could shake myself apart, when I'm so angry I feel that the heat from my fury could set the world ablaze. He is calm when I'm not, he anchors me. He sets me free from myself.

With one final sniffle and a wide glance out across the shadowed waves, I turn back to the sand and the one that waits for me there. My jeans are soaked through up to the thighs now – I must have wandered deeper than I realised – and I shiver as I leave sea, water running down my calves and over my ankles and feet in rivulets. I won't dry for a while but that's okay.

A figure up on the sea wall waves down to me before stepping back out of sight. He comes running down the slope as I rush up the beach to him and he greets me with open arms, slight frame still managing to envelope me in a comforting embrace filled with warmth and feeling.

“Better?” Hakyeon asks, soft and considered but eager to know.

“Yes,” I whisper as he pulls me down to the sand on top of him, gasping as we land hard. He giggles breathlessly, rolling us over so I'm no longer squashing him and smiles down at me.

“God, I've got sand everywhere!” He exclaims, trying to wriggle his hands round under my waist, hair flopping over his eyes. I'm still pretty wet but he doesn't complain, just wiggles a little closer, shifts his hands a little further until he's got me surrounded. “I think it's gonna take me three showers when we get home to be rid of this stuff.” He lays his head down on my shoulder and I pat his hair as he finally settles. “What were you thinking about, Wonshik? Hm?” He directs at the side of my jaw. “Something bothering you?” He presses his face into my neck, laughing a little when I speak because he can feel it through his body against mine.

“I was thinking about you, Hakyeon,” I say, wondering if this time, this time, I can finally say it, tell him how I feel.

“Oh?” He hums, breath warming my skin. He shifts position a little and his fringe slides across my cheek.

“Hakyeon, I-“ I begin before the inevitable hesitation. He goes to speak but I interrupt him. “No, let me say it.” I pause for a moment, close my eyes, pull him even closer into myself. “Hakyeon, I love you and I too am glad to have you.” The next breath leaves me in a hasty sigh.

“I know.” He murmurs and I click my tongue in irritation.

“That was…”

“Hard for you to say.” He finishes my sentence for me when the words escape me. “I know. But I already knew. You never say it, but you show it to me without words. It's in the way you talk to me, smile at me, look at me. The way you curl up next to me or sometimes just sit there and listen. Those words are in everything you do Wonshik.” We both know I'm blushing by now and my grip on him is probably painful. “Now why don't we go back and you can just love on me, okay?” He chirps.

I should have known.

Thank you.