The sun dropped onto the pearl white sand. It warmed under it's light touch. Waves crashed onto the rocks nearby, it made a satisfying noise. Other than that, the beach was silent. Crisp salted sea water filled the air. The twin beach towels laid down on top of the warm sand. A lady laid on the peach one, as the young man sat on the lavander.
He stared down at the mistress. Her eyes laid close as if she was sleeping. Her smooth lips laid open a bit, tasting the salty air. Her face shined because of the large amount of sunscreen she had on. Despite that amount, freckles started to scatter on her nose. Her eyebrows laid in rest, unlike last week, scrunched and stressed. Her face laid clean of makeup, which the young man was happy about.
On the crown of her forehead, sweat started to drip because of the sun's heat. Her hair was free from it's usually side ponytail, surrounded her head like a halo. The blonde locks were damp from the earlier swim, it dripped on the towel. One hand laid on her exposed stomach, as the other laid under her head. She wore a new bikini, pink and blue stripes laid on them. The said clothing made the young man want to cover her up from the world. She deserved respect from others, not looking at her assets. He loved her too much to be used as a tool or an object.
On her stomach, she had a scar that laid from her breast to her bellybutton. It was hardly noticeable, but it made the young man cringle. But even her imperfections were perfect to the young man. Her overall attire and body made the man's heart swell. How many times have he told her she was beautiful but she brushed it off. She didn't realize how gorgeous she was, with made the young man sad. She never was satisfied with how her makeup looked, or how her hair laid. But she was perfect the way she was, it made his blood boil.
The young man didn't realize how long he was looking at her. But when she chuckled, he shook his head out of thought. "How long are you going to look at me like that?" She asked, opening her eyes.
He chuckled in response and laid a hand on her head. He stroked her hair till she closed her eyes once more, "It's a beautiful day," she said.
"Of course it is. And it's more beautiful when I'm here with you."
"Oh Natsu, stop the cheesy lines. We past that stage a long time ago."
"It still makes your heart flutter, Luce."
"You know me so well."
With that they continued their silence, each passing minutes longer than the last. But they didn't mind, they enjoyed it. Natsu shuffled over to laid down next to the lady. Lucy instantly wrapped her slim arms around his stomach. She placed her head on his chest and took a deep breathe. Smelled like firewood and smoke, smelled like home to her. Her home isn't like most, roof and rooms to lay on, a kitchen to prepare her family's food. No, her home was right here, lying next to her, warm and strong.
The man laid his hand on her head, and laid his cheek onto her wet locks, not that he mind. The other arm is placed on her back, mindless drawing circles. He would do this often, but only towards her. When she cried because of her father's death, becoming an orphan. Or when she shouted with glee because of both of their acceptance letters to Magnolia University. When she would worry about him going on his job, stating as a firefighter, anything could happen to him. But he assured her he'll be fine. Lastly when she would keep herself awake long hours trying to finish a chapter of her book. Though Natsu begged her to take the night off, for it was her second time falling asleep on her keyboard, she told him that it was an author's duty.
They stayed in this position till the sun started setting, ridding their light. Lucy sat up rubbing her eyes, conformed Natsu's suspicion that she was asleep. Natsu stood up too, and yanked away the sand from their towels. They walked towards his truck, which stood alone in the empty parking lot. They put their beach items in the back and climbed into the car. They talked nonsense as always on the drive home. Lucy stroked Natsu's back as he drives, like she always.
