It was Saturday afternoon, and Ladon was riding his bike to the beach.

If you didn't know him, or his good friend Tate, it would make no sense. April was still early for spending time at the beach, after all. Apparently not for her, though, as she had sent him a short text around noon reading The ocean and I are getting married.

He had puzzled over this for a minute, considering whether or not it was a reference to one of her games. Then, coming up blank, Ladon texted back: What?

No answer. He waited for an hour, and then took his bike out to North Beach. The bike, he locked into a bike rack and then he walked to the flood wall, peering over it: and there, in a white summer dress and black capris, crouching in the sand, was Tate. Her shoes were half-buried in the sand ten yards back, her gray bag slumped against the wall like a body. She was writing in the sand, but the waves kept washing whatever she was trying to say away.



It was a good thing it wasn’t raining, but it didn’t mean that it was supremely warm either. Dressed in a light, zipped-up hoodie of soft black, a frowny cloud on the shoulder that dropped little white raindrops along his sleeves, and a pair of jeans and worn sneakers, he was ready to see what the ocean and Tate had in store. That is, if he found Tate. Part of him thought he was ridiculous to be thinking that she would LITERALLY marry the ocean, but you never knew with Tate. Surprises made up their relationship and he found he often had his heart racing most of the time for one reason or another when in her company.

After locking his bike and spotting Tate, he felt a wave of relief in seeing she was here. Then again, it just made the text more confusing. Was she really going to marry a body of water and why now and had the text just been to inform him or to tell him to come? Since he made her promise to tell him more and more, he guessed it was to keep him up to date.

Not sure if he was even invited or was expected, he made his way down the steps and walked to the beach, watching her small form curled on the ground. Her dress flapped in the salt-fragrant breeze, and he remembered how she felt when she had curled in on the fire escape, talking to Wolframite. Concerned etched itself onto his face, and he slowly approached.

“So I didn’t know if you needed a best man or a bride’s maid, but if you’re really going through with this, I’d like to point out that it’s not really legal.” Not to mention he had hoped she would make a better choice than this. Sure, Zachary was a rotting, puss-filled, worm, but he could at least keep her better company than sand could.

“You’re wedding dress looks nice.” He smiled at the ensemble she picked for her big day.




She startled, drawing her finger through the word she'd written just as the salt water washed over her writings, lapped around her toes. Then she looked up to him through her eyelashes, and smiled. "Yes, well," and she sat back on her heels, the knees of her capris burrowing into the sand. "It's more of a spiritual thing."

Tate reached up to pull him down beside her, and started to trace the word again. It was her own name, not Tate but Tatiana. "I read a book once," she said as the water surged back up. That was not all that weird. She loved to read manga, could sit for hours with a comic book. Then she would rehash it with Ladon--unless it was Umineko, that she kept to herself. Tate saying she had read a book was like saying that a football player had thrown a few passes. "I didn't much like it, but it said: From water does all life begin." What was this, impromptu English class? Tate didn't read much other than anime or manga... "It sounded like such a good idea at the time."

She smiled, a little crookedly, and then winced; she pressed her fingers to the scabbed-over cut, and winced again. Ow. Sand in the wound, how uncomfortable! "I'm sorry, I just... wanted to see if you would come. It was stupid." The water washed closer; her knees were well wet by now, his sneakers were getting close to the danger zone. "I'm being really stupid, I'm sorry."





He never liked her when she was like this, and he breathed a little huff to show that she as just being silly, not stupid. Kneeling down beside her, he watched as she spelled her name, never having known how it was spelled. It seemed foreign to him, exotic, like the name of a heroine or a princess, but that was HIS brand of books, not Tate’s. He already knew she had a love of manga, something he was just starting to read and had managed to get a few series under his belt, all thanks to his friend. While his books were more fairytales, some a bit dark and gruesome, her stories ranged from romantic to very complex, but all feeling very real. A few managed to get him pretty choked up, but he was glad he was reading in private when that happened.

The sand was cool and he looked out at the gray ocean as it rolled close. This time of year, the entire place was vacant aside from a few people walking their dogs, and the open beach stretched on both sides, with a clear view of the horizon before them. Tate continued to spell her name, soaking up the water as it rolled into her, rippling around her legs, and then receding back. “It’s not stupid. I go out all the time just because I feel I need to. Just to escape. I’ve gone into the woods or walked into the city for no reason than just because I felt I needed to.” He watched her spell her name, then watched the water return to wash it away.

Reaching back, he slipped off his shoes, putting his socks in, and then placing them a little more behind them both, hoping the water wouldn’t take them away later. Still kneeling, he set his hands in the hand and felt the cool minerals between his fingers. “Is something wrong?” He asked, looking at her from the corner of his eyes as he started to write his name in neat, tight handwriting. L-A-D-O. The water came and washed before he wrote the ‘N’, and he tried again. “I usually never went to the beach. It’s always crowded when it’s nice enough to go, and it’s different to go by yourself. Not like in the woods, where no one knows you’re there. Everyone seems to get in the way and watch you at the beach.” He finished the ‘A’. “It’s nice now, though.”



She leaned against him a little, experimentally; just their shoulders touching the slightest bit. The conversation with Wolfram rung in the back of her head: Did you want him to hurt you? Experimentally, she pulled the side of her finger against a shell, but... Nothing. She set her head on his shoulder and stopped tracing out her name. Now she was writing something different:

I--

T-H-I-N---

And it vanished under the waves, and she laughed. "Here, look, this is how you do it." She shifted her weight, and quickly wrote out his name (L-A-D-O-N) in the sand, just in time for the tide to wash it away. Her handwriting was long and spiky, the straight lines listing to the left a little like arches. "You just have to write a little bit faster," she said, sounding a bit embarrassed.



He didn’t mind at all, and with the cooler breeze coming off the water, liked the warm pulling into his sleeve. The water started to rush to him, and he clenched his teeth as he felt it seep into his jeans, before rushing away. “Wow, that’s cold.” It was still a few weeks before it would be even tolerate to swim. The sand around them turned dark, and he tried to write again, this time faster, but reading her words. Ladon had never been good at word games, and he couldn’t think of anything that started with ‘Ithin’. Quicker, he managed to write his name, smiling a few times before giving off a short little laugh, a tiny smile that threatened to get bigger, when the waves continued to try and wash his name away. “It’s too fast for me.” He pointed out, watching as he managed just to get halfway to the ‘N’ before the water rushed around his hand, destroying his work.

Looking over, he leaned in to nudge her with his shoulder. “My hand’s getting numb.” He flexed his fingers, and noticed her hand. How long had she been writing her name.

It was a daring move, but he reached over and grabbed her ahnd, holding it as he held it a moment. “See. You’re cold too. We should warm up somewhere.” Taking hers, he took his other hand and rubbed both sides of her hand, before blowing on it. “There. Better?”



"The waves are too high now," she said, but she didn't seem inclined to move until he spoke again. Her own fingers were turning purplish--the cold of the waves, coupled with the sand grating against and around her nails. She went as if to begin writing in the sand again. I--

For a moment, she stared at him, and then smiled a little. Tate curled her fingers around his hand. "Yeah," she murmured. God--at least she wasn't with--

She straightened and said, "Oh!" Her grip around his hand tightened, and she smiled wider. "Ladon, I broke up with Zachary." Her free hand, free of sand, salt and blood, came up to cup around his hands. "So, don't worry anymore, okay? I know you were."

Her head tilted forward a bit, pressing their knuckles to her forehead.



She broke up with Zachary! Right now would have been the best time for the sky to part and rays of sunlight to fall down, but instead there was a gust of wind that rippled the water and another rush of water that passed by them, chilling their legs once more. A shiver went up his spine, fingers gripping a little more tightly than before.

“You broke up with him?” That was better than the other way around, and he wondered if there was a reason behind this. Had that d**k done something wrong, or did she just notice she could do better than lowering her standards to his level. What was best was that not only did he have her time back, but she wasn’t dating at all! Every time she had to cut their talks short to get ready to see Zachary always made it hard not to dramatically sigh or make his displeasure known outright. It didn’t see to be cleverly disguised though, since Tate knew he was against it. He could only hope Ivan didn’t spill to Tate about being against her decision.

Even though Tate was smiling, he was wary to grin, not wanting to be too enthused over this new turn of events. “I was just worried about all the talk that went around about him. That’s all.” That and he would have liked a big, hungry youma to bite his head off and leave the body in heavy traffic. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out, though.” Like hell he was. Ladon was going to hum a happy tune all the way home after this.

The water rushed by then again, and he felt her hand cup his, warming them, and now a landscape of opportunity was open to him, as wide and clear as the beach around them. Tate was single.

“We should get out of the water.” Rising up, he dusted some of the sand off his jeans as he pulled her up by the hand she held. “Do you want to walk?”



With a serene nod, she let him pull her to her feet. "Yeah," she said; "I did. It was mutual, he wanted to see someone else and I didn't care enough to stop him." Tate smiled down at him, and they walked a little way, sand grating beneath her feet. Then she paused, looking out at the water.

"We're going to make my bridegroom jealous," she teased, but she was listing towards the water again. And her hands were still tangled around his, but she looked out at the waves and then looked down to the foam around her feet. "I like the ocean. I like the sound the waves make. This is real, not like the stupid CDs with the inspirational pan-flute music." She turned back to Ladon, smiling a little with her embarrassment. The white cotton of her dress clung to her pants as she rejoined him, shivering a little. "I dunno, I sort of thought... maybe it'd be the sort of thing you would want to know."

She paused, tilting her head back. "My favorite colors are gray and green," she said. "I don't like music, but I can carry a tune. The first book I ever read was Meet Samantha. My uncle gave me Theodore for my third birthday but I named him when I met Giselle." Her cheeks had pinked a little when she looked back to him. Green like his eyes--she'd always liked green, so at least she wasn't a total Bella Swan.




They hadn’t divided, and while they could have walked side by side, they walked hand in hand, and while it might be to warm her hand, he felt more flushed than ever. Despite how open and secluded they were from the rest of the world, how much of the landscape was able to be seen, he couldn’t only pay attention to the presence of her body swaying close to his, the way the soft cotton stuck to her stomach, and how his palms were getting warm, hoping beyond hope that he wasn’t giving her a soggy grip.

As they moved, he pictured what other people who might pass by would think. Two students walking in the beach, together, alone, and holding hands. It was enough to be a cheesy cover to The Best of Love Songs CD, and he could practically here Minnie Riperton singing “Lovin you” as Track 1.

Whatever prompted her, she started to share things about herself that he never asked, but didn’t know. There had been no opportunity in conversation, and he felt directly asking would have been crude. His only tactic for knowing anything about Tate was keeping his eyes and ears open for little clues and hoping he got them right. “I do want to know, but I didn’t want to just come out and ask.” He wanted to know everything from if she hated any food to where she would like to travel to if she had the choice of any place on the map.

Following her lead, he decided that letting her say everything wasn’t fair. “My favorite colors is blue, but really like almost every color. Naturals are my favorite. Blue. Brown. Green. I don’t like neon colors, or ugly patterns because I think they’re gaudy.” Ladon worked with fabrics, and spent a lot of time matching colors. “I like the woods more than the ocean, because you can just wander around, listen, and just feel the trees around you.” It was a nice escape from the skyscrapers and dingy shops. “I think the first book I read was fairy tales, and I still like them.” Boy was that embarrassing to admit. “And…..I have a stuffed animal named Elliot that I may or may not still have.” His grip tightened a little as he looked towards the supporting wall that ran alongside the beach, his ears pink. “I know that sounds really uncool, right?”





"Not at all," she said; she paused again to scuff her toes through the sand, to draw an arcing line. If she bent her knee a little, she could easily draw a heart. Tate smiled, then laughed. Having a stuffed animal, really uncool? She squeezed his hand as if in comfort.

Wolfram had said that Ladon got so mad because he wanted to protect her. Was that all? Maybe Ladon just had a people-saving-thing and Tate wasn't all that different. She could see him being that kind of person--she should ask Wolfram, maybe, to keep an eye on him. If she could bring herself to bother the Negaverse officer for that much... "I probably interrupted your day, didn't I."

Her smile was apologetic now. "Sorry," she said; "Is there any way I can make it up to you?"




He shook his head, watching her play with the sand. "Not at all. No one is ever home, so I like having something to do. If it wasn't this, I'd just be finding something else to do. I like the company, and it was a fun little adventure." It was also something he would never pass up. After hearing Tate admit she wanted attention, he wanted to give all his time to her. No matter the hour or what trouble he might get into, he wanted to be there. No matter who she called, Ladon or Wolframite, he wanted to be there when she called out when she felt she needed someone.

"I like spending time with you. If you ever want to call me, you can. I want you too." He tried not to look at their held hands. "How about we find some place to eat? How's that?" They could get dry and warm up together. "We can call it the reception." It was a bad joke, but he gave a short smile nonetheless.




She glanced down at their hands, considered letting go and then didn't. "All right, but I get to pay," she said. "That's the job of the bride's family, but he's not here, so I guess I'll have to represent Uncle Ivan." Tate smoothed out her dress, smiled at the bluish stains and picked the wet fabric away from her skirt. For a moment, she stood there staring out at the water.

Then she did let go of his hand, and brushed a lock of his hair back behind his ear. "Thank you, Ladon. You're so sweet."





When their hands finally let go, he had to wonder why Tate even let him go that far. That was not usually something friends did, at least not between a girl and boy. Girls, sure, they could get away with holding hands, hugging, and even so far as kissing on the cheek. While hopeful, he reminded himself that Tate just broke up with someone. She needed company, which was probably why she was holding his hand.

Comforting her was the best he could do right now.

"What are friends for?" With that, they started back.



FIN