#🧪 ⠀ ⠀onewillemdollars . . . 01

[herralbrich]

@onewillemdollars liked for a starter!

HIS JOURNEY TO EXPLORE EVERY INCH of New Yesteryear had brought him to the border between Glacier’s Peak and Sunset’s End. Now , Anton wasn’t going to complain about the resort itself ── the water was clear , the people were nice enough ; but he couldn’t stand the heat. Not only was the sun blazing down hot enough to melt him where he stood , he somehow kicked the sand up all the way into his boots.

PERHAPS WEARING ALMOST ALL BLACK to the beach wasn’t the wisest decision , either. It didn’t take long for him to take off his boots and socks , only to almost squeal at the heat of the sand on his feet. He sprinted to the water , holding his boots as the waves crashed against his ankles.

❛ ZIS VAS A HORRIBLE IDEA. ❜ He said to no one in particular , looking back from where he came. He had a long walk back to the safety of cobbled paths ── and he could already feel the sweat making his hair stick to the back of his neck.

[herralbrich]

THE SAND IS HOT. THE SUN IS HOTTER. He doesn't dare put his boots down for fear of more sand getting into them ; or , god forbid , they get wet. He feels miserable , but he's having a great time. That's what it's trying to convince itself of as one of the other beach - goers calls out at it. Maybe taking off his over shirt would do him some good , but then he'd have to carry that , too. The sight of the sand caked on his boots is already bad enough , imagine if he dropped his shirt too. He didn't want to risk it.

IT WAS FAR TOO DISTRACTED WITH THE HORROR of getting sand in every bit of it's clothing that he didn't notice the other man staring at him. It wasn't until he was spoken to that he turned his attention towards the other beach - goer ( who was obviously far more prepared for this than Anton was ) , the wind whipping his hair back in his face.

A HAND RAISES TO PUSH BLONDE LOCKS out of his face , sputtering as he does. How in the hell did sand get in his hair ?! Once he gathers himself as best as he can being completely out of his element , he just lets out a defeated sigh.

❛ I AM AFRAID I DID NOT DO MY PROPER RESEARCH. ❜ And he called himself a scientist. He didn't even know what a beach was before he got here. Would it have done him some good to , you know , ask someone before he came ? Maybe. But he's here now , and he is trying his damnedest to have a good time. ❛ No , they are not. But I vas not aware it would be so . . sandy. Or hot. Especially when it is so cold not so far from here. ❜ That is something he still hasn't been able to wrap his mind around. Glacier's Peak isn't even an hour from where he stands , and yet the weather is so horribly different.

will is the stranger's ironic parallel, his get-up the direct opposite of the man's. in fact, that's what beckons his attention to the booted figure, his outfit a tell-tale sign of a restaurant reservation, perhaps, but mismatching the beach. the writer is close to showing skin everywhere the other doesn't, his only shield of modesty the swim briefs he wears that most closely resemble a thong than anything else.

hopefully, he hasn't noticed will eyeing him, trying to figure out if its busy enough that introducing himself to it right now would earn him stared daggers. it says something - the wind characteristic to the beach is just loud enough for him to not be able to pick it up, but it's opportunity enough for a meeting.

" you think so? " will calls out from the beach towel he's sat on, the glasses resting on the nose of his bridge raising to reveal amused irises. " but the water's so nice, darling! what makes you regret coming to the beach, hm? "

his gaze darts to the discarded boots he carries. " let me guess, those are not supposed to be gray? "