A Tulip

A Tulip
The ocean wakes me.

Not the light, not the cold air, but the sound. Waves tumbling against the shore, a deep, steady rhythm that feels older than anything I’ve known.

Leomord is still asleep, his arm heavy around me. I take a moment to study him in the soft morning glow. His face is calmer now, no trace of the sharp edges it carries when he’s awake.

I brush my fingertips lightly over the scar near his eyebrow. He doesn’t stir.

Slipping out of bed, I pull on a cardigan and tiptoe downstairs. The bakery is already alive, the smell of fresh bread and cinnamon filling the hallway. The woman at the counter smiles at me, handing over a warm loaf wrapped in paper.

“For the two of you,” she says. “On the house. You both look like you need it.”

Outside, the air is crisp and salted. I walk toward the beach, my shoes sinking into soft sand. The sky is pale gold, the water stretching far beyond the horizon.

I find a flat rock and sit, breaking off a piece of bread. I imagine what life could be like here: mornings like this, afternoons in the sun, evenings watching the tide rise and fall. No running. No shadows. Just him and me.

Footsteps crunch behind me.

“You left without me,” Leomord’s voice is still rough from sleep.

I glance back. He’s barefoot, wearing only sweatpants and a T-shirt. His hair is a mess.

“You were sleeping,” I say. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

He sits beside me, stealing a piece of bread from my hand. “I’d rather be with you than sleep.”

The sincerity in his tone makes my chest ache.

We eat in silence, watching the waves together. The sunlight hits his face, and for a moment, I see the boy he must have been before the world tried to harden him.

By midday, the streets are livelier. Small shops with painted signs, children running barefoot, fishermen mending nets along the dock. Leomord holds my hand as we wander, pointing out things he likes, an old boat for sale, a coffee shop tucked between two weathered houses.

“You’re smiling,” I tease.

He smirks. “Maybe I like it here.”

We stop at a little seaside café. The tables are mismatched, the chairs wobbly, but the view is perfect. The waitress sets down two plates of grilled fish with lemon and herbs.

“This is the best thing I’ve eaten in years,” Leomord says after the first bite.

I laugh. “That’s because I didn’t make it.”

“True,” he grins.

After lunch, we walk along the pier. The wind tangles my hair, and Leomord tucks a strand behind my ear, his fingers lingering just a little too long. His eyes hold mine, unguarded.

“I want to give you this,” he says quietly. “Days like this. Every day.”

“You already are,” I whisper.

When we return to our room, the afternoon sun spills across the bed. We sit together, backs against the headboard, sharing the last of the bread from the morning.

Leomord takes my hand, running his thumb along my knuckles. “You know, when I was in prison, I used to imagine places like this. But I never thought I’d be here. Not with someone like you.”

I lean into him. “Then don’t waste it. Don’t waste us.”

He kisses me, slow, deep, with a kind of care that feels like a promise.

And as the tide rolls in outside, I believe, just for today, that we’re untouchable.

Leomord doesn’t rush me when I finish my bread slowly, savoring each bite while staring at the restless water. The gulls dive and cry overhead, their voices mixing with the hiss of waves against the shore.

He leans back on his hands, legs stretched out, face turned toward the sun. For once, he’s not scanning the horizon for danger.

I want to freeze him like this, barefoot on the sand, sunlight in his hair, tension gone from his jaw. I want to hold onto this version of him, the one who belongs here, not the one who’s always on guard.

When I finally stand, brushing crumbs from my fingers, he follows without a word. We walk along the curve of the beach, our footprints trailing behind us. The tide will erase them soon, but for now, they’re proof that we were here.

We wander farther than I expected, ending up near the edge of the docks. The planks are uneven, swaying gently beneath our feet. A fisherman nods in greeting, then goes back to untangling his nets.

“Reminds me of when I was a kid,” Leomord says, glancing at the water. “There was a lake near the village. I used to skip stones there.”

I smile. “Were you good at it?”

He smirks. “I was the best.”

He bends to pick up a small, flat stone and flicks it across the water. It skips three times before sinking.

“Show-off,” I tease, finding one of my own. Mine skips twice, and his grin widens.

We stay there until our pockets are empty of stones, laughter mingling with the wind.

The afternoon drifts by lazily. We browse the narrow streets, stopping to look at trinkets in tiny shops. I buy a little glass bottle filled with sand and tiny seashells. Leomord just watches, smiling as if the sight of me happy is enough for him.

At one stall, an old woman sells woven bracelets. She hands me one with blue and white threads, telling me it’s “for lovers who want to stay together, even through storms.” I glance at Leomord, and without hesitation, he buys it.

He ties it around my wrist right there, his fingers brushing my skin. “Now you can’t get rid of me,” he says with a crooked grin.

“Good,” I whisper.

Back in our room, the golden light from the window makes the space feel warmer. We leave the window open, letting the sea breeze carry in the smell of salt and the faint sound of waves.

We sit on the floor with our backs against the bed, sharing a plate of fruit we bought from a vendor. Leomord peels an orange, hands me a slice, then eats one himself.

“This is the best day I’ve had in a long time,” he says quietly.

I lean my head against his shoulder. “Then let’s make more days like this.”

He’s quiet for a while, and I think maybe he’s drifting into thought again. But then he tilts my chin up and kisses me, slow and unhurried. The kind of kiss that says more than words could.

When we finally pull apart, he presses his forehead to mine. “Whatever happens next, we hold onto this. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Outside, the tide keeps rising, but for now, it feels like we’re above it, floating, safe in this small, stolen piece of peace.