I tried to tell myself to calm down. Deep breaths. Focus on the waves. The sand. The… nothing.
But then she appeared.
Saki. Bikini. Sunlight catching the edges of her hair. Perfectly casual, perfectly unaware of the tornado she had just unleashed in my chest.
I froze mid-step, sand shifting beneath my feet.
She waved at me, smiling like it was just any normal day.
Normal day? My brain shrieked. This is not a normal day! This is a catastrophic, top-of-the-world panic day!
I nodded quickly, trying to look composed. "H-hi," I mumbled, voice squeaky and betraying my soul.
She laughed lightly and ran toward the water, her laughter trailing behind her like… like sunshine with a soundtrack.
I tried to focus on the waves, the sky, the seagulls… literally anything except her. But my eyes kept flicking over. Shy. Guilty. Bewildered. Every glance made my heart hammer like a drumline on steroids.
Kyosuke nudged me, smirk fully in place. "Relax, little bro. It's just the beach."
"JUST THE BEACH?" I thought furiously. "JUST THE BEACH?? SHE'S WEARING A BIKINI!!"
Saki splashed into the water, casually swimming, completely innocent. And there I was, standing at the shoreline, trying to enjoy the beach but secretly dying inside every time she turned or smiled in my direction.
I tried to play it cool. Threw a few kicks of sand at the water. Pretended I was into the waves. But my glances toward her were fast and panicked, like a nervous animal trapped in a sunlit cage.
Somewhere between dodging a rogue wave and nearly falling over my own feet, I realized:
I was really… actually enjoying this. Despite the panic. Despite Kyosuke. Despite the hand incidents. Despite the bikini-induced soul evacuation.
Every laugh she threw my way made me forget the world. Every careless glance made me stumble over my words whenever she asked something.
And I knew, deep down… that these five days were going to be the hardest, funniest, most panic-filled, utterly terrifyingly wonderful days of my life.
Because Saki in a bikini had just… redefined the meaning of summer vacation.
I stepped into the water, just a little, heart thudding, hoping the waves would wash away my dignity. But of course, they didn't. Not even close.
And that was okay… sort of.
Sort of terrifying.
Sort of amazing.
For once, miraculously, my brain decided to behave.
The ocean stretched out endlessly in front of us, sunlight dancing on the surface like it had a mind of its own. The breeze carried the smell of salt and summer, and the sound of waves crashing felt… calming. Actually calming. No alarms. No sirens. No internal screaming.
I let my feet sink into the wet sand and exhaled.
This was nice.
Saki was already in the water, laughing as a small wave chased her back toward the shore. Kyosuke was further out, pretending he wasn't showing off while absolutely showing off. Saki's dad had rolled up his pants and was testing the water like a cautious scientist, while her mom sat under the umbrella, waving at everyone and calling out reminders about sunscreen.
My parents joined her soon after, stretching and joking like this was just another familiar tradition. And honestly… it was. We'd done this so many times before. Different beaches, different years, but the same people. The same easy warmth.
I jogged into the water, letting the waves hit my legs, then my knees. The cold made me laugh without thinking, and Saki turned toward me.
"Cold, right?" she said.
"Yeah," I replied, grinning. "But it feels good."
We stayed near the shore, splashing water at each other in a lazy, half-serious way. No competition. No teasing. Just… fun. At some point Kyosuke charged toward us, kicking up water like a wild animal, and Saki immediately retreated, yelling my name like I was some kind of shield.
"Haruto! Stop him!"
"I didn't sign up for this!" I protested, but I stepped in anyway, only to get absolutely soaked.
Everyone laughed. Even Saki's dad, who pointed at us like this was the highlight of his year.
Later, we built something that vaguely resembled a sandcastle. I say "vaguely" because Kyosuke kept sabotaging it with unnecessary decorations and dramatic commentary. Saki's mom handed out cold drinks, and we sat in a messy circle, feet buried in sand, talking about nothing important at all.
School. Food. Old trips. Random memories that popped up and made everyone laugh again.
Time passed without me noticing.
At some point, Saki sat beside me, knees pulled close, watching the waves. The sun was starting to dip lower, painting everything in softer colors.
"Feels like summer now," she said quietly.
"Yeah," I replied, nodding. "It really does."
No panic. No overthinking. Just the sound of the sea and the comfort of someone who had always been there.
For now, everything was simple.
And honestly?
That was more than enough.
By the time the sun started sinking properly, the sky turning orange and pink like someone had spilled warm colors everywhere, Saki's mom clapped her hands.
"Alright, beach warriors," she announced. "Dinner time."
Those two words carried power.
We brushed the sand off ourselves and headed back toward the resort, tired in the good way. The kind where your body feels heavy but your head feels light. Showers happened in a blur, and by the time we regrouped, everyone looked cleaner, calmer, and significantly hungrier.
The restaurant was right by the water, open-air, with wooden tables and soft lights hanging overhead. You could still hear the waves if you listened closely. It felt… peaceful. Almost unreal.
We took a long table. Saki's dad and my dad sat across from each other, already deep in conversation like they were solving world problems. Our moms sat side by side, discussing food with the seriousness of a strategic meeting. Kyosuke dropped into a chair beside me like he owned the place.
Of course he did.
Saki sat across from me.
I noticed it, registered it, and then immediately decided not to make it a thing. No panic. I was done panicking for the day. Officially retired. Permanently. Hopefully.
Menus were passed around. Kyosuke ordered first and somehow managed to order half the menu "to share," which everyone knew meant he'd eat most of it. Saki's dad laughed and let him. Traitorous laughter. But I ignored that.
When the food arrived, everything smelled amazing. Grilled fish, rice, curries, noodles, things sizzling and steaming. For a while, the only sounds were plates clinking and very satisfied sighs.
"This is good," I said honestly.
Saki nodded, smiling. "Worth the trip already."
Kyosuke leaned back, hands behind his head. "See? I told you. Best idea ever."
No one argued.
Conversation flowed easily. Stories from past trips came up. Embarrassing childhood moments were shared against my will. Saki laughed at one involving me getting lost at a beach years ago, and I tried very hard not to die of embarrassment.
At some point, Saki's mom looked at us and said, "You two seem to be having fun."
"Yeah," Saki replied naturally.
I nodded. "Yeah."
And that was it. No teasing. No dramatic pauses. Just… normal.
Dessert came. Something cold and sweet. I don't even remember what it was exactly, just that it tasted like summer and relief.
As dinner wound down, the sky outside was fully dark, lights reflecting on the water like scattered stars. Everyone looked relaxed. Happy. Content.
I leaned back in my chair, letting out a quiet breath.
This trip… maybe it wouldn't be chaos after all.
I should've known better.
But for now, dinner was perfect.
The calm lasted exactly until the hallway.
We split up after dinner, yawning, stretching, saying lazy goodnights. One by one, doors opened and closed. Kyosuke walked ahead of me, hands in his pockets, looking way too relaxed for someone who had been terrorizing my sanity all day.
Just before entering his room, he stopped.
Turned.
Gave me a thumbs up.
"Best of luck for the night," he said, perfectly cheerful.
Click. Door shut.
I stood there.
Alone.
The words took a second to sink in.
Then my heart went, Oh no.
I slowly turned and stepped into our room.
And that's when I saw it.
One. Bed.
One. Single. Bed.
My soul left my body so fast it probably achieved escape velocity.
I froze in the doorway, staring at it like it was a wild animal that might attack if I made sudden movements. My brain replayed the check-in scene with brutal clarity.
Four rooms. Two people capacity.
This wasn't a mistake.
This was a setup.
"How did I not notice this earlier," I whispered to myself, voice cracking slightly. "How was I calm. Who allowed me to be calm."
The bed looked normal. Innocent, even. White sheets. Pillows neatly arranged. Absolutely no warning label saying May cause emotional destruction.
I dropped my bag slowly, like any loud sound might trigger something catastrophic.
Okay. Think. Think logically.
It's just sleeping, I told myself. People sleep. Humans sleep. You've slept near Saki before. On trips. On floors. On futons.
Yes.
But not like this.
Not like this.
This was a bed. A real bed. In a room. With the door closed. With night approaching at alarming speed.
I ran a hand through my hair, pacing once, twice.
"Calm down," I muttered. "Nothing will happen. Absolutely nothing. You are childhood friends. Normal. Completely normal."
That's when I heard the bathroom door open behind me.
I turned.
Saki stepped out, towel around her shoulders, hair slightly damp, looking completely relaxed.
"Oh," she said. "You're already here."
I nodded too fast. "Y-yeah."
She followed my gaze.
Looked at the bed.
Then back at me.
There was a brief pause.
"…Oh," she said again.
Silence.
Not awkward silence. Not yet.
Just heavy silence.
I cleared my throat. "So. Uh. One bed."
She nodded. "Yeah."
Another pause.
My brain tried to reboot and failed.
"It's fine," she said first, calm as ever. "We've shared rooms before."
"Yes," I said immediately. "Totally. Normal. Very normal."
She smiled slightly, like she knew something I didn't. "We can just… use separate sides."
"Separate sides," I repeated, nodding hard. "Yes. Sides. Beds have sides. Good design."
She laughed softly and walked toward her bag.
That laugh nearly ended me.
I sat on the very edge of the bed, leaving what felt like an entire continent of space between where I sat and where she might sit later. My heart was pounding again, traitorously loud.
Why am I like this, I thought. Why am I this weak.
Outside, I could hear the ocean. Calm. Steady. Completely mocking me.
Night had officially begun.
And so had my panic.
We didn't go to sleep immediately.
Of course we didn't.
The lights were dimmed, the curtains half open, moonlight slipping in quietly like it was trying not to interrupt. The ocean outside kept breathing in slow, steady waves. Calm. Mockingly calm.
I lay stiff on my side of the bed, hands folded on my chest like I was preparing for a funeral. My own.
Saki lay beside me, facing the ceiling, one arm tucked under her head. There was a very deliberate, very respectful gap between us. A fragile peace treaty.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then she broke the silence, casual as ever.
"Today was fun."
"Y-yeah," I replied. "Really fun."
Another pause.
"I liked the beach," she continued. "It felt… familiar."
I nodded even though she couldn't see me. "Yeah. Like nothing really changed."
She turned her head slightly toward me. "But it also feels a little different, doesn't it?"
My heart skipped, tripped, and faceplanted.
"I—uh—maybe?" I said, choosing the safest possible answer in the history of mankind.
She smiled softly, then looked back up at the ceiling. "Don't worry. I mean it in a good way."
We talked like that for a while. About small things. The water being colder than expected. Kyosuke being Kyosuke. Her dad's suspicious smiles. My near-death experiences throughout the day, which I carefully summarized as "tiring."
The tension slowly loosened. My shoulders dropped. My breathing steadied.
See? I told myself. This is fine. Completely fine.
Just when I was starting to believe it, Saki spoke again, her tone thoughtful.
"Oh… by the way."
"Yes?" I replied instantly. Too instantly.
"I might cling to you in my sleep."
Silence.
My soul exited my body, waved politely, and left the country.
She continued, completely unaware of the internal apocalypse she had just triggered.
"It's a habit. I move around a lot when I sleep. So if that happens, don't panic. Just wake me up, okay?"
My brain short-circuited.
"C-cling," I repeated faintly.
"Yeah," she said easily. "I do it all the time at home."
At home.
At HOME.
I stared at the ceiling like it might offer guidance. Or mercy.
"O-okay," I managed. "No panic. Wake you up. Simple."
She turned slightly toward me now, eyes half-lidded, already getting sleepy. "You're reliable. I trust you."
That sentence did irreparable damage.
"G-goodnight, Haruto."
"G-goodnight," I replied, voice cracking like a traitor.
She shifted closer—not touching, just closer—and soon her breathing evened out.
I lay there.
Wide awake.
Staring.
Not moving.
Not breathing properly.
Repeating one sentence in my head like a prayer and a warning at the same time:
Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't panic.
The night was long.
And sleep was very, very far away.