𝗜𝗡 𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗠 ᐅ𝙟𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙞𝙖𝙝 𝙛𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙧 [ 𝗢𝗡 𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗗 ]

𝟬𝟱

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩ TODAY ✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩

Jeremiah had always been sweet.

This was what Rose focused on as she walked down to the beach, the hot sand sifting between her toes. He had a natural affinity for helping others, for being a good person, for being there for people when they needed it the most. Underneath the bravado and the performative smiles, Jeremiah was secretly incredibly sensitive. She felt blessed to know that side of him, the side that would do something so nice for her and expect nothing in return. The sun had only just come up, and still left a trace of bright watercolour splattered across the sky in a soft orange. Small ripples brushed atop the crystal water, contrasting the golden gleam of both the sun and the sand.

Jeremiah was sitting on the shore, with his feet dipping in and out of the ocean when the tide came and went. People were much like the tide in that way, they were transient, a liminal phase; they never stayed. But Jeremiah's head wasn't hung—he seemed at peace, almost.

Rose approached him with a small grin.

"Boo!" she yelled, smacking his shoulders lightly with her palms.

Jeremiah shot upwards; eyes wide. "Fuck off! Christ, Rose, you scared the absolute shit out of me. Do you want me to die prematurely?"

She laughed. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

"No, I'm not."

Jeremiah grinned. "Of course, you're not."

"That was really funny, you can't deny it."

"Speaking of, you do realise we need to restart the prank wars this summer, right?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Rose dropped onto the sand and ran the tips of her fingers over the course surface of the grains, watching with a feigned intensity as the sand shifted under her gentle touch.

For a while, neither of them said a thing. His presence was enough for her, and it certainly was enough for him, too. It was more than enough. He'd been convinced once that Belly was enough, that she was everything life had to offer, that she was the girl of his dreams, the one he'd been looking for...but she wasn't. Maybe some things had been with him from the beginning. He was just too blinded to see it. Maybe he still was. But perhaps, the blindfold was slowly starting to lift. 

"I know it's not the same," Jeremiah began, sucking in a small, nervous breath, "but I thought it could be...I don't know. It's not the same, but it's close. I think. It was also oddly therapeutic. It was like she was talking to me, I guess, even though it was meant for you."

Rose felt a tug at her heart. 

"It wasn't just meant for me," she whispered. "She would've wanted everyone to see it. I'm glad you read it, Jere."

He hummed in understanding. "I'm really sorry."

"It was an accident."

"I'm still sorry."

"I don't think you have anything to be sorry for, but you're forgiven anyway," said Rose softly, looking at Jeremiah for the first time during their conversation. Every time, she became lost in those blue eyes of his. But perhaps the word 'lost' isn't the correct term to use. Because being lost implies that you desperately want to be found, to be placed back on the right path, away from the unknown of the woods. But the thing was...when she looked in his eyes, she was perfectly content.

How could you be lost when you never want to be found?

"Now, come on," she said suddenly. "What seashell looks the best? We didn't pick one at the end of last summer."