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Weather looks out at the ocean; the sun’s rays touch the gentle waves making shimmering jewels on the dancing crests, and Weather feels a bead of sweat fall down his temple.
The heat and the water is a familiar feeling: other days the sky can be so clear that the sun can beat down violently hot, and the sea reflects its rays like a hall of mirrors, but today is a pleasant day.
It’s rare to find a beach in Florida on a hot summer day empty, but when you’ve lived there your entire life, you know where to find the good spots. They picked a nice sunny weekend, and the six of them hopped in the van, Emporio driving, to a secluded lagoon at the bottom of the cliff’s edge, off the coast of Orlando, as per Jolyne’s suggestion. The tall cliff gave cool shade and needed privacy as their tiny paradise of the world, and there was enough sandy surface area to set up towels, lounge chairs, umbrellas, and a volleyball net.
Weather lies down on the lounge chair and looks over at the others. They’re playing volleyball now, and it’s a close match! Jolyne and Anasui versus Ermes and Foo. Jolyne jumps to block but Ermes spikes the ball over the net with powerful precision and Anasui dives for the ball but—“Foul!” Emporio shouts.
Ermes high-fives Foo.
“Are you kidding?”
“We said no stands this round, Anasui.”
“Hey kid, I know you’re short. You gotta be able to see the ground better from that height. I saved that ball with my own two arms.”
“Hell no!” Ermes chimes in. “To the bench, man!”
Anasui drags and kicks his feet in the sand and walks away begrudgingly. “Yeah, yeah, eat my ass, whatever! This is for you.”
Ermes keeps berating him from the net and Jolyne sighs and laughs and F.F. tries to shield Emporio from whatever profane gesture Anasui is making but vainly thinks Emporio has probably seen worse during his life in prison.
Weather smiles at the absurd scene. Back then it was rare to smile, but now, he catches himself doing it often.
He doesn’t care that he doesn’t remember the past—he’s making memories now to replace what is gone: irreplaceable ones he never wants to lose.
The sea creeps up along the coast, splashing against the rock walls. Weather closes his eyes. He smells the familiarity of salt, and then feels Anasui slip warmly into his lap. Like a cat, he thinks.
“Don’t move away,” he says.
Weather stays.
Anasui leans back onto Weather’s chest, and instinctively, Weather wraps his arms around him, smoothing his chest with his fingers.
Sometimes Weather can remember the past. At least it feels that way. There are moments when his mind gives him puzzle pieces he must try to put together. The cliff, the crystal clear sky, the sequin-shining water, and Anasui’s torso framed by the scene; it feels intensely familiar, a deep déjà vu.
For a moment as fast as lightning, a memory flashes through his mind. It’s of Anasui; he’s dead. There’s a gaping hole punctured through his chest—a hole as black as the cavern carved into the cliff. Blood pouring from his chest, he puts his hand over the breach to stop it, but it violently pumps out—it’s an endless reservoir—through his petty fingers, blood thick and wet as the bottom of the sea, and his body sinks into the ocean, staining it crimson.
He doesn’t realize he’s touching Anasui’s heart under his fingers.
“Weather?”
He cannot believe he is corporeal.
Anasui laughs. “Do you like that spot?”
Weather shrugs. He doesn’t lift his hand. “How did it heal?” he asks.
“Hm?”
“How did the hole in your chest heal?”
Anasui looks quizzically up at him. His gaze is stony for a brief moment, as if deep in thought. Then it’s gone like nothing happened. “You’re weirder than normal today, Weather.”
He reddens. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he pauses. “I just thought I remembered something.”
“What did you remember?”
“That you were dead.”
Anasui frowns. He laughs uncomfortably. “You know, after everything I’ve done, maybe I should be dead.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
Weather sighs. “It was a nightmare, then.” He rubs his hand over Anasui’s chest in small circles. “Anasui…you’re really here?”
“I’m here, Weather. I’m alive.” He cups his hands over Weather’s. “And I’m damn lucky to be.”
“Lucky.”
“Yes,” Anasui turns around to face Weather, up against his chest. “I’m a lucky man.”
Weather looks down at Anasui resting peacefully. The others are laughing and running around in the sand in the distance. The sea crashes against the coast. “Do you really believe it’s luck?”
“Hm.” Anasui smiles wryly. “Who really knows?”
“Who really knows.” Weather closes the distance between them and kisses him. Anasui’s mouth tastes like salt, but Weather doesn’t mind.
He hopes, however he's found himself here in this life, that it stays this way forever.