Ket opened his eyes.
"Dang it."
He knew the whisper came from Emmy, even though he couldn't see her. "What?" He groggily asked.
"Go back to sleep." She told him.
He yawned, and moved his hand about. She was nearby, but he couldn't tell where she was. His fingers found a purchase on her calf. By that, he could tell she was sitting up, as he could now see her torso, a blob of black, blocking a barely backlit tent wall.
"What time is it?" He asked rhetorically. In response, a square lit up, and Emeral was illuminated by her phone. She turned it to him so he could see the display. Five fifty-eight. "I'd be in time for school," he commented.
"I know," she said softly. "Go back to sleep."
He sat up.
"Go back to sleep." She insisted.
"What're you doing up?" He asked, yawning again. The light on her phone went out, and now he really couldn't see a thing.
"...Nothing," she responded.
"Man it's humid," he commented, slowly opening the vent window above their heads. "The sun isn't even up yet."
She let out a sigh. "I know."
"I wonder when it comes up..." He mused, staring outside. He could just barely see the earth, lit by a hazy pre-dawn glow. "Hey!" He exclaimed rather loudly, "If it comes up soon, maybe we can watch it!"
"Wouldn't you rather sleep?" She dully questioned.
"You don't want to watch the sunrise?" He questioned back.
"...I figured you'd think it was a stupid idea," she said.
"Have you ever seen the sunrise?"
"...Not really," she admitted. Her hand was taken, after a couple attempts it took him to find it.
"Well now's your chance. It'll be worth it, I promise."
He tugged, but she didn't heed.
"If you really want to..."
"I really want you to." He stated, and walked on hands and knees to the front of the tent. He picked up her sandals, hooking his fingers in the toe-straps, and held them up for her. "Here," he said.
She waved her hand around just a bit, and finally found them.
He slipped his own on, and unzipped the doorway. Far too awake and excited, he shot out the doorway legs-first, standing up and stretching without a sound. He turned back, and held out his hand, pulling her through the threshold. As he helped her to her feet, he took the chance to snare her in a brief a hug.
"We'll want a towel," he thought aloud, and ducked back in the tent to grab his.
"And a light?" She suggested.
"Nah, I can see." He spoke with confidence. Now that he was standing outside, he could see, but he grabbed the dimmable light just in case. After a moment of thinking if they needed anything else, he turned to her. He could just make out her eyes. "You ready?"
"If... If you are." She spoke in a hush.
"Then let's go."
She was taken by the wrist, and abruptly pulled. Her feet dragged at first, and then she found her pace. They went at a jog, their feet falling noiselessly on the sand save for the flop of their flip-flops.
The wind picked up as they approached the beach. The sand here was normally hot and baked by the sun, but at this time before day it was like snow without the bitter cold.
She hadn't tasted the sea in a while, and now it was on her tongue, salt saturating the air. It filled her lungs and made them heavy, and she began to pant and heave. The sound of the waves reverberated in her ears. Without the addition of people screaming, laughing and shouting, and with only the occasional squawk of a seagull, that incessant roar felt more imposing than ever.
Thankfully they slowed to a brisk walk. Ket stopped at the line of seaweed, staying true to his word at being able to see. He pointed it out, his voice barely reaching her ears, as if the sound of the ocean were in her ears alone and he hadn't clue about it. They crossed the foul-smelling brambles without a problem, and stopped just a yard or two short of the waves' farthest reach.
Emeral began to actually see her whereabouts as well, now that she wasn't focusing on keeping up with her partner and breathing syrup. The world about them was dark on the earth, but the sky was a dim and hazy blue. The water was a mix of both, as she could see the white caps of the waves far in the distance, helped by matching the sounds of when they came to the shore in a crash.
The wind caught the towel as Ket snapped it out. He set it down quickly and stepped on it to keep it from blowing away. The corners began to curl from the ferocity of the wind. He beckoned Emeral to sit on it quickly, before it went away on a magic carpet ride without them.
She complied, sitting with her legs straight out. He sat to her right, buffering her from the wind. His left arm went behind her, half propping himself and half leaning against her. His left leg bumped against her right, and then he lifted it and draped it over, resting her leg in the crook of his knee.
She moved her arm to behind him, similar to his behind her. He eased away, and she fell toward him, becoming the leaner. She looked out ahead, watching the blue and the black ripple about the mottled water's surface. She could see that there were a few clouds in the sky. They were upside-down with puffy white bottoms and dirty gray tops.
Black dots circled about in the distance. Seagulls flying about the middle of their sea. They looked like gnats crawling on a mountain of whipped cream. Often one or several at a time would suddenly sink as if they just got tired of flying, only to realize there was no place to land in the turbulent waters and so had to keep flying on.
"Cold?"
His voice sounded like a whisper, yet he spoke normally she could tell. He was responding to her shiver. "A little," she said feebly, her voice carried away from him. Whether or not he heard, the hand at her behind rested upon her bare arm, and began gently stroking along her bicep and shoulder.
"Feeling all right?" He was the one asking for a change.
"I didn't get much sleep." She replied.
"You fell asleep really fast," he commented, as if in disbelief.
"I woke up later." She admitted, and waited for him to ask how come. Surely, he would want to know if he had woken her somehow. Maybe he already assumed he did. When after a while he didn't ask, she told him: "I just kept thinking...how last night was the last night we'll probably ever get to sleep together."
He looked to her, but her emerald eyes did not return a glance. "Well... It's not a typical thing," he reasoned.
"I know." She shivered again. His strokes hastened, warming her arm by friction. "I just got spoiled."
"Actually," he pointed out, "We still could. No one says we can't sleep during the day. We could take naps together after school." He smiled at himself. "It'd be like kindergarten."
It took a moment, but a smile did finally creep upon her face.
"Plus, summer is coming soon," he continued. "We could go on a few camping trips. Maybe our moms would let us then."
She leaned against him more, beginning to purr. His hand took a break for a moment, but stayed upon her shoulder. He fiddled with the strap of her tank-top.
Across the farthest edge of the sky, and only seen when the waves crashed against the shore, a blood-red band of light soaked the horizon. Beams of light were beginning to gleam up from beneath the edge of the earth, like someone was grasping the sun like a light-bulb, and its light was split between their fingers.
"I didn't get to sleep until late," he confessed.
"Why not?" She obliged him, even though he did not her before.
"I just... couldn't stop thinking."
Her purr turned into a whimper. "I keep telling you," she half-groaned, "Let it go. It's bothering me that you're letting it all bother you so much—"
"That's not it." He was quick to say, his words emphasized as he squeezed her, which either brought about or helped quell a shiver. "I did let that go, honest," he assured. "I just... I don't ever want you to cry like that again."
"Don't let that worry you either, please?" She begged.
A seagull came over to them, landing a short distance away. They ignored the little eavesdropper.
"It doesn't worry me," he reassured again. "In fact... I think it kind of helped me understand."
Now she had to ask, but couldn't with the gull nearby. She briefly left her tiger's hold and support, gathering a handful of sand. She threw it at the seagull, and it didn't land anywhere near the pest. He cocked his head at them, more confused than intimidated. He left all the same.
"What did you understand?" She questioned, sitting upright on her own. She looked to him, his eyes shining brightly as they gathered the growing light.
He didn't move for a moment, remaining at an awkward sideways-lean and propped by his left palm. Finally he sat up, too. "I think I understand what love is." He finally stated.
Her ears perked up. "What do you mean?" She wanted to know.
"When I asked you to be my girlfriend," he said, almost like he had rehearsed this explanation, "I thought that was just... like being friends, but a little more." His darkened hand rolled against the dim white sand behind him. "We kiss, we hug, we sit closer, we say we love each other; I thought that's what love was." He lifted a finger to his muzzle, pulling at a whisker. "But last night, when I made you cry, I felt something..." The pulling stopped, but the hand remained. "I think that... what I felt was what love is really supposed to be."
She let out an airy giggle, "You sound like such a romantic," she teased. But to be truthful, she was drinking every word he said. "But what is it?" She probed further. "What did you feel—what is love?"
He shook his head. "I can't explain it." He said rubbing the far side of his face, and then looked at her with what she could tell was an expression as genuine as his voice: "I want to tell you, but I don't know how. I want you to know... it feels..."
She abruptly fell against him. He caught her, and wrapped his arms around her, ensnaring her as a fisherman draws his net around a catch. "It's okay," she said. "I believe you. Maybe it's not something you can explain. It sounds nice," she rested her head against his chest. "Hopefully I can understand it soon, too." And then she chuckled, "But I promise you won't have to cry."
"I can show you!" He spoke with a quiet enthusiasm. "I think... I think I can show you." He moved her to sit on her own again.
She matched his eyes. They hoped she would say what she finally said: "Show me."
He took a breath.
She could make out his face. It looked different somehow, and yet it couldn't have changed much since yesterday. His hands moved to her sides. She raised her arms from her torso enough to let his slip through.
He moved to his knees, inching closer to her. The gesture was not new, and as his face neared hers she closed her eyes and jutted her lips just a little.
She felt the touch. It felt just the same as it always had; and then... then it changed.
Her eyes flicked open as she felt a wave of warmth overcome her from muzzle to tail. His were closed, but it was like, even then, he was still staring right at her. There was some kind of pressure behind the kiss, some kind of energy that she perceived. Like when the nurse does hearing tests at school, and she doesn't really hear the beep, but she can feel it somewhere inside of her skull.
And then her eyes closed again. The waves of warmth rippled about her like the turbulent waters of the sea. His hand snaked behind her, and slipped inside of her shirt. He rubbed her back, petting her bare fur in slow circles, while at the same time moving up and down her spine.
She began a furious purr. Her back straightened, the fur all about her body puffing out as pins and needles tickled her all over, like her whole body had lost circulation. Her tail began to twitch and fidget, having a seizure. Her hands squeezed, grabbing at his shirt and tufts of fur underneath.
Their lips parted, but his hand continued on her back, joined by the other. She fell upon his chest with a gasp, feeling like a spoiled house cat.
She gazed at the horizon. The blood-red band was now a wall of golden yellow. Clouds were black as coals and the high dome of the sky was beginning to bleach.
And then it happened. Just a peek at first, behind the wiggling surface of the sea. The waves caught the light, turning it greenish-orange and carrying it above their heads like a child parading with a new toy.
Slowly the sun climbed above the white-caps.
Emeral blinked. There was a flash of light that hit her eyes. It left a scar on her vision for a few moments that faded to a purple blob and then shriveled away. The sun was red, just as the sky had been before, with thin wisps of black as it passed by thin clouds.
She had not been fully true before, when she said she hadn't seen the sunrise. Many times before school, she had seen the sun rising. It was low in the sky, often times just below or hiding behind a thick quilt of clouds scudding just above the ground.
But never had she seen this moment, when it emerged from behind the very edge of the Earth. Never had she seen the light wash aslant the sea, sluicing about the waves and sparkling in the spray.
Fish began to leap from the waters, and she imagined them as dolphins and whales, even if they weren't. The seagulls wove about the heavens, sewing clouds and skydiving into their sea.
But what she cared of most were not those things that were so far away. She cared of the hands that stroked her back, of the lips that kissed her scalp, of the heart that beat against her ear; she cared of the one that shared this moment with her, and wouldn't care if it lasted forever.
