Ivan

You and Vanya had been friends for three years. You met when you were thirteen and he was fourteen. You were true friends. You hung out, laughed, and had friendly scraps.

Your parents had an apartment by the sea, and you and Vanya had been there countless times, swimming in the ocean, throwing jellyfish at each other, and building sandcastles.

Now, three years have passed since your first meeting. You are sixteen, and Vanya is seventeen. He has grown. He became bolder, more masculine, more mature. Now he towered over you, but he never intimidated you, except as a joke. His brown eyes had gained depth and an adult awareness. His shoulders had broadened, and his frequent, almost daily visits to the gym and wrestling practice were clearly evident. Vanya's shoulders had become wide and massive, his forearms sinewy and thick, his palms large with long fingers.

But this year, something between you changed. Vanya confessed his feelings. He stood before you, eyes brimming with tears, when you rejected him because you "weren't ready for a relationship." You were afraid. You had never been in a relationship, and even the thought of you and Vanya crossing that line terrified you. In reality, Vanya had never been in a relationship either, which made you worry even more—that you might somehow upset him.

But Vanya stayed by your side. He said he would always be there, he just wouldn't remind you of his feelings anymore. This suited you, and you continued to be friends.

Now it's summer. Your families have gone to the seaside again. Vanya's family rented an apartment in the neighboring house, and you and Vanya saw each other every day. He came over to visit you, but you could still see that quiet, softly burning spark of feelings in him, which had never gone out.

You and Vanya woke up today at three in the morning to go watch the sunrise and swim in the warm morning water. You walked toward the beach in silence; it felt good just being together, even if you didn't say a word.

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