“I’ll take one scoop of mint chocolate chip and one scoop of double chocolate fudge, please!” The shop worker behind the counter nods at your request and begins to dig out generous scoops to place in the giant waffle cone in his other hand. You watch a second worker take Namjoon’s order behind you and a few minutes later you have both received your cones and paid, leaving a handful of coins in the tip jar on your way out.

Without voicing any specific plans, the two of you let your feet lead you down the narrow concrete path that winds around the small shop and leads back out towards the beach.

You settle into a comfortable pace as the path gradually turns to sand beneath your feet and leads you closer to the water’s edge. You are both occupied with the urgent task of at the ice cream threatening to melt over the cones’ edges, so no words are exchanged for several minutes. There is just the sound of the water crashing onto the shore, playing over your bare feet only to retreat a moment later, and the calls of seagulls in the distance.

This side of the beach is relatively clear; only a handful of people walk along the shore or sit on blankets scattered about the sand. It’s practically barren in comparison to the swimming area, which teems with hundreds of people hoping to enjoy the holiday weekend on the water.

Eventually, you and Namjoon both reach a point where your ice cream is stable enough to survive the pauses necessary to hold a conversation, and the two of you take the opportunity to chat. The unusually hot weather of the past few weeks, the recent antics of your friends, your plans for dinner–the topics come and go like the breeze off the water. With each passing minute you feel the stress of everyday life melting away like the ice cream in your hands. The constant go-go of the past few weeks seems a lifetime away when you hear the sound of Namjoon’s occasional laughter and feel the warm sand under your feet.

Namjoon is in the middle of describing the shell of the hermit crab he discovered earlier in the afternoon when a very sudden, very loud scream from a child startles you both into silence and draws your attention to the scene behind you.

It appears that the child, who is clutching their small boogie board to their chest like their life depends on it, is extremely reluctant to leave the beach. The father just watches the child with calm, tired eyes while another child runs up and clings to his arm. You see the father say something to the yelling child that seems to calm them instantly, and a moment later the child skips behind the rest of the family as they head for the parking lot.

Namjoon chuckles as he turns back around to face you, “How much do you want to bet that the dad just bribed that kid with ice–” he doesn’t finish the sentence and you finally look away from the backs of the retreating family to meet his stare, wincing a bit at the intensity of the sunlight shining behind him.

When your eyes meet he raises a hand to his mouth and giggles happily; his eyes crinkle with his amusement.

“What is it?” you ask, not understanding the look he is giving you. Some curious mix of fondness, teasing, and something else you can’t quite name.

In place of a verbal response, Namjoon just reaches out and brushes his forefinger lightly over the tip of your nose; when he pulls it back, he shows you the smear of mint ice cream and raises a brow. “Should I go back and get you a bib?”

“Oh, give me a break.” you roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind the action–only a touch of embarrassment to cover up the warm fluttering in your chest at the sight of Namjoon smiling so brightly with his windswept hair and glittering eyes. “How many times have I had to wipe ice cream off your face…and your clothes, and your hair, and y–”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” he surrenders, giving a fuller laugh this time that shakes his shoulders. “Sorry, you just looked so adorable with that little bit of ice cream on your nose, I couldn’t help teasing you a little bit.”

You take a bite out of your waffle cone to cover up how much you balk at Namjoon calling you ‘adorable’ when he looks like sunshine incarnate right beside you.

You take an even bigger bite out of the cone when you see Namjoon casually away the ice cream on his finger before continuing his talk about the hermit crab like nothing had ever interrupted him in the first place.

You don’t know why you’re so flustered by the small action. Your relationship with Namjoon is more than friendly–though, it’s not quite to the point where you have anything to call him other than a good friend–so this is hardly the first time the two of you have toyed with the concept of flirting, but there’s something about the look on his face when he did it that has your heart doing somersaults in your chest.

You suddenly realize that he has stopped speaking and is looking at you expectantly. You scramble to try and recall what he last said, but you were too caught up in your own thoughts to remember and you are left staring at him with an apologetic wince.

In those few moments of silent eye contact, you are struck again by how absolutely gorgeous Namjoon is.

The sun had started to sink lower in the sky during your walk and it now sits low on the horizon, casting a warm golden hue onto Namjoon’s skin. His eyes–which look at you so openly and earnestly that it’s hard to look away–catch the fading light in a way that turns them a warm shade of amber. His mouth is curved into a half-smile, left over from the cute grin that showed up when he started talking about the hermit crab. Your heart does a funny twist at the sight of it all and a sudden, impulsive idea begins to form.

“Sorry,” you begin, “I didn’t hear the question. I was distracted by the stuff on your face.” You make a big show of staring at his cheek and laughing.

His eyes immediately grow wide, forgetting his still unanswered question. “There’s something on my face?” he sounds shocked at the news. “Where is it?”

You take a small breath in to keep from losing your resolve and step forward, reaching up like you’re going to brush something off his cheek, but instead you quickly lift your ice cream cone to his face and tap him gently, leaving a small streak of mint across his cheekbone. “Right there.” you tell him, leaping away immediately with a peal of laughter to avoid the arm that flings out to catch you when he realizes what you’ve done.

“Y/N!” he yells, his initial look of surprise and betrayal turning now to exasperation and laughter. “Get back here and wipe this off!”

You show him an exaggerated pout before slowly walking back to his side. You pause to look at him, cradling your chin in the space between your thumb and forefinger. “Hmm, I don’t know, I think you look better this way.”

He an eyebrow at you, “Oh, really? Then maybe you’d like to be matching?” he says with an intimidating raise of his own, now dripping, ice cream cone.

You take a step back, raising your hands defensively, “Hey, now, let’s not do anything drastic.”

He levels you with a deadpan stare, pointing to his mint stained cheek.

“Fine, fine.” you giggle, admitting your defeat.

You take a step forward and lift yourself onto your tip-toes, reaching out carefully to hold onto his shoulder to brace yourself, and then–quickly before you can chicken out–you place a kiss his cheek, wiping the ice cream away with a brush of your lips.

“There,” you say when your feet are safely planted back on the ground, “all gone.” Your tone is casual, a total contrast to the now frantic beating of your heart and the stream of incredulous thoughts running through your head yelling, “WHAT DID YOU JUST DO.”

To his credit, Namjoon recovers quickly from his look of dumbfounded shock and his mouth trips over a flustered “thank you.”

Deciding that you are too embarrassed to face him and the consequences of your spur-of-the-moment actions, you turn quickly on your heel and continue walking down the shoreline. You busy yourself with rushing to finish off the ice cream that is running over with sticky drips of mint and chocolate as a result of your neglect.

“Hey, Y/N, wait!” you hear Namjoon call out behind you. You turn just enough to see him jogging to catch up.

You wince a bit when he catches up to you and rush to explain your actions, “Joon, I’m sorry about that, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing and–”

“It’s okay.”

“–I really didn’t think it though and–wait what?” you ask. Your delayed reaction to his words makes him laugh and you feel your cheeks growing warm.

“I said, it’s okay.” Namjoon says, smiling gently at you. It’s then that you notice the light dusting of pink on his sun-kissed cheeks.

“Are you– I mean…really?” you struggle to find words, too flustered by this turn of events to be fully coherent.

He just laughs once and nods quickly. His eyes are bright with excitement. “Yes, really.” He hesitates for just a moment. “As long as you let me pay you back.”

“What do you m–” but then Namjoon is leaning in impossibly close and you can’t find the words to finish your question. Your mind has suddenly been wiped of anything that isn’t Namjoon.

When his lips meet yours in a gentle kiss that tastes of his cotton candy ice cream, you find yourself wondering if you’re still passed out asleep under your beach umbrella, because surely this must be a dream.

He pulls back a moment later but remains standing close. He smiles at the shocked look you give him. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now, but could never find the right time.”

The implications of that statement, the idea that Namjoon had been thinking about you–thinking about kissing you–take a moment to sink in, but when they do…oh boy do you feel your face burn hotter than the sunburn on your back.

After standing there in a heavy silence, Namjoon suddenly looks a bit nervous. “Um–” he scratches at the side of his neck, “was…was that okay?”

He watches you with careful eyes, looking like he is preparing for a scolding. This look is what finally kicks your mind back into gear and you form your first coherent post-kiss thought.

“Yes!” you almost shout the reply, which startles both of you. You try again, this time using your inside voice. “Yes, yes, Namjoon, that was–” you can’t seem to find the words to describe just what that was. Instead, you rush to wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, abandoning the last bit of your cone in the sand for the seagulls.

“It was more than okay.” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt. It takes a moment, but you soon feel him relax in your hold and return the hug, holding you tight.

“That’s a relief, I thought you were going to hit me for a second.” Namjoon jokes. You scoff and pull away just enough to gently slap his arm. He grins, “Kidding, kidding.” He runs a hand up and down your arm a few times, pulling you closer for just a second before letting go of you completely.

“Now that that’s settled, let’s get to the ledge before the sun sets completely.” He reaches out his hand and you take it, lacing your fingers together in the process.

The two of you continue your walk like that, hands linked and shoulders occasionally bumping, until you reach your original destination: a small outcrop of rocks where it’s popular to sit and watch the sunset.

The two of you rush to find a spot before the last bit of the sun can completely slip below the water on the horizon. When you finally settle down, you are cuddled up against Namjoon’s side and his arm hangs around your shoulders. His body is warm, a welcome contrast to the cool breeze coming off the water.

This sudden shift in your dynamic will need some deeper thought at some point, but for now you are content with how easy it is to lean into his side and smile up at him when he points out a pair of seagulls fighting over a discarded churro. It’s different, but it feels right, like this is how things were always supposed to be.

When your attention finally returns to the view, you find that the sun has burned the sky, turning it deep shades of purple and orange that grow darker with each passing second. The sight is breathtaking and–sitting there with your arms around Namjoon’s waist, the gentle breeze playing with your hair, and the soothing sounds of the water–you can’t think of anywhere in the world you would rather be.