Kioer appeared at Phuwin's elbow before they'd taken three steps up the sand, his hands already reaching. "Let me take her. You've been holding her this whole time."
Phuwin hesitated for half a breath—the small warm weight against his ribs had become something he didn't want to surrender—but then Kioer's fingers brushed his, and he passed Lin over carefully, watching her settle into her father's arms like she'd been waiting for it. She yawned, her tiny fist pressing against Kioer's chest.
"She's so cute," Kioer murmured, rocking her gently. His voice dropped, soft and private. "How did you even get this outfit on her? Joy said she fought like a demon."
From behind him, a woman's laugh cut through the salt air. Joy—Kioer's girlfriend, Lin's mother—stepped around his shoulder, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, sunglasses pushed up on her head. She was wearing a loose sundress and sandals, and she looked at the baby with an expression that was pure exhausted fondness.
"She gets the stubbornness from Kioer," Joy said, bumping his hip with hers. "And Pond. And Tyral."
As if summoned, a small body shot past them, kicking up sand. Tyral—all four years of him—sprinted toward the water's edge, his toy airplane held high, shouting something that got lost in the crash of the waves.
"Tyral! I told you to come here a long time ago!" Joy called after him, but her voice was tired, resigned.
Kioer didn't move. "He doesn't listen." He shifted Lin to one arm, watching his younger brother tear across the sand. "Of course. It's father like daughter."
Phuwin laughed, the sound surprising him. The wind pulled at his bangs, and he pushed them back, still warm from holding the baby, from the drive, from the weight of the last few weeks pressing against his ribs like a second heartbeat.
Joy turned to him, her eyes softening. "Was she giving you a hard time? She can get fussy in the afternoon."
"No, not at all." Phuwin shook his head. "She was really calm. Happy. She kept tugging at my shirt when I moved. Like she didn't want me to go."
He didn't say how that had cracked something open in his chest, how he'd felt the ghost of a future he wanted so badly it ached. He just smiled, and Joy smiled back.
"And Pond? Was he being annoying?" She raised an eyebrow. "He was supposed to help take care of her. That was the deal."
Phuwin glanced back. Pond was standing a few feet away, hands in his pockets, watching him with an expression that was equal parts proud and nervous. Their eyes met, and Pond grinned—that wide, boyish grin that made Phuwin's stomach flip even now.
"He was helping," Phuwin said, and felt heat creep up his neck. "He was... easing my stress."
Joy snorted. When he turned back, she was trying not to laugh, and Kioer was shaking his head.
"He said that, didn't he? 'Helping calm Phuwin down.'" She mimicked Pond's deep voice badly. "That's his move. Always has been."
Phuwin felt his face go redder. He didn't trust himself to answer, so he just stepped back, his heels sinking into the damp sand.
"I'm going to walk with the others," he said quickly, already turning. "I'll be back."
He caught Pond's eye one more time—a question in that look, a warmth—and then he was walking toward the group gathered further up the beach, where Siyh was standing with her arms crossed, Santa adjusting his glasses against the glare, Jungkook laughing at something Taehyung said, and a few others he didn't know as well.
They fell into step together without planning it, a loose line of bodies moving along the shore where the sand was hard-packed and the waves barely reached. The ocean was a deep, shifting blue, and the sky was still bright overhead, the sun not yet ready to surrender.
"So," Siyh said, her voice light but her eyes sharp. "You and Pond. Holding babies. Looking like a whole family portrait."
Phuwin ducked his head, but he was smiling. "Shut up."
"I'm just saying. We all saw it. You're not subtle, and neither is he."
Santa hummed in agreement, kicking at the sand. "3 years I've been waiting for this. Feels like I should get a certificate or something."
"A medal," Siyh corrected. "For surviving the slowest burn in human history."
Phuwin laughed, and it felt good—felt like the first real breath he'd taken in days. He looked out at the water, at the light scattering across the surface, and the laughter settled into something quieter.
"She would have loved this," he said, and he didn't have to say who.
The group went still. Siyh's hand found his arm, squeezing once. Santa looked at him through his glasses, his expression soft.
"Tell us about her," Jungkook said, his voice gentle. "You never really do. We just know—" He stopped, not wanting to push.
Phuwin swallowed. The waves kept crashing, steady and relentless. He walked with his eyes on the horizon, and the words came, slow at first, then faster.
"She used to make promises. When we were kids. She'd sit on the edge of my bed and tell me everything she was going to do. She was going to get the best job in the world—she said the position she wanted, after college, it was going to pay so much we'd never worry about money again. And we'd travel. Every country she could find on a map. We'd send Godji postcards from everywhere."
He paused. His voice was steady, but his chest felt tight.
"She said she'd be at my wedding. The loudest person there. She said she'd cry through the whole thing and then give my spouse a speech that would embarrass everyone." He laughed, a wet sound. "She said I wasn't allowed to get married without her."
Nobody spoke. The waves filled the space.
Siyh's fingers were still on his arm. Santa was walking with his head down, his hands in his pockets. Jungkook and Taehyung had fallen back a step, giving them room.
"She promised," Phuwin said again, quieter now. "And I believed her. I believed everything she said."
The sand gave way to a rocky stretch, and they picked their way around it, the tide lapping at the edges. The sun was beginning to lower, the sky bleeding into shades of orange and rose. Phuwin stopped, and the group stopped with him.
He stared at the horizon, at the way the light caught the clouds, and he was somewhere else. A different sunset. A field of grass, tall and golden. Two kids running, their laughter trailing behind them like ribbons. Pointing at the sky, making up stories about the shapes. She said that one looked like a dragon, and she was going to ride it someday.
"We used to do this," he said, his voice barely carrying over the water. "Run away from Godji's house to get snacks. We'd go to the park, and we'd lie in the field and watch the sunset, and she'd tell me stories about the clouds. She said the pink meant the sky was happy."
He blinked, and the memory receded like the tide. When he looked at Siyh, her eyes were shiny, but she was smiling.
"It's getting late," she said softly. "We should head back."
The sun was almost down now, the last of its light smearing across the water. The moon was already visible, pale and thin, and the first stars were pricking through the deepening blue.
Phuwin took a breath. Let it out. "Sure."
They turned, and the group walked back together, their shadows long on the sand. The beach was quieter now, the wind dying down, the waves lulling. Phuwin let his feet carry him, his mind still half in that field, half in the present, until—
He stopped.
There was a stand set up on the sand, right where the tide line met the dry. A wooden arch draped with white see-through curtains, fairy lights wound around the posts and laid across the ground in glowing patterns. Garlands of flowers—white and pale pink—hung from the frame, swaying gently. Lanterns sat at the base, their flames soft and golden.
And in front of it, holding a bouquet of roses so big it must have cost a fortune, stood Pond.
Phuwin's heart stopped. He felt his feet lock into the sand, his breath catching in his throat. The world went very quiet.
"Go on," Siyh whispered beside him, and he realized she had her phone out, already recording. "Go."
She pushed him gently, and his legs moved. One step. Another. The sand was soft under his shoes, and the fairy lights blurred as his eyes started to burn.
Pond was watching him with that nervous grin, his hands tight around the bouquet. He was wearing a white button-up, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, and the lantern light caught the gold chain at his neck and the hope in his eyes.
Phuwin reached him. Stopped. Stared at the flowers, at the lights, at his boyfriend's face.
"Pond—" he started, but his voice cracked.
Pond held out the bouquet. "Here. I—these are for you."
Phuwin took them, his fingers trembling. The roses were heavy, fragrant, perfect. He clutched them to his chest and felt petals brush his chin.
Pond took a breath. The grin softened into something more serious, more vulnerable, and he reached into his pocket.
"I love you, Phuwin." His voice was rough, bare. "I've loved you for so long I don't remember what it felt like not to. And I want to give you the best. I want to wake up every morning and see your face. I want to wake up every morning and know that you're mine, and I'm yours, and nothing else matters."
He dropped to one knee in the sand.
Phuwin's breath left him.
Pond opened the small velvet box in his hand, and the ring inside caught the lantern light and threw it back in flashes of silver and white. A diamond—large, clear, probably worth more than the house Phuwin grew up in—surrounded by smaller rhinestones, set in a band that gleamed like liquid metal.
"Will you marry me?" Pond asked, and his voice shook, just slightly. "Will you let me spend the rest of my life proving that I'm worth it?"
Phuwin nodded before he could speak, the word tearing out of him. "Yes."
A tear slipped down his cheek, then another. He couldn't feel them, couldn't feel anything except the thundering of his own heart and the way the world had narrowed to this one moment, this one man on his knee in the sand.
Pond's face broke into a grin so wide it looked like it hurt. He slid the ring onto Phuwin's finger—perfect fit, warm metal—and stood, his hands cupping Phuwin's face, wiping away tears with his thumbs.
Phuwin pulled him into a kiss. Deep, desperate, tasting salt and the promise of everything. His hand cupped Pond's jaw, the other still clutching the bouquet, the ring cold and new against his skin, and he kissed him like he was trying to pour every word he couldn't say into the press of his mouth.
He pulled back, gasping. "I love you so much. I'm so happy to have you in my life."
Pond kissed him again, softer this time, his forehead resting against Phuwin's. "I love you too. Forever."
A small body slammed into Phuwin's leg. Tyral, his airplane still clutched in one hand, wrapped his arms around Phuwin's thigh and laughed—a high, happy sound that made everyone around them laugh too.
Siyh was shouting something, probably Pond's name, her phone still recording. Santa was clapping, his glasses askew. Jungkook was whistling.
Pond bent down and scooped Tyral up with one arm, the boy giggling and wriggling. "Did you see that?" Pond asked him. "Phuwin said yes."
"Yes!" Tyral shouted, and waved his airplane in the air. "Airplane!"
Phuwin laughed, his cheeks wet, his chest so full it ached. He looked at the ring on his finger—the diamond catching the light, the silver warm against his skin. He looked at Pond, holding his little brother, grinning like he'd won the world.
Kioer and Joy came up then, Joy cradling the baby, Kioer shaking his head.
"You moved faster than me," Kioer said, his voice dry. "I haven't even proposed to Joy yet, and I already have a child."
Joy snorted. "You'll get there. Eventually. When the stars align."
Tyral leaned forward, shoving his airplane between Pond and Phuwin's faces. "Look! Look!"
They both looked. The airplane had a crooked wing and a smudge of something that looked like chocolate on the tail.
"Cool," Pond said. "Really cool."
Tyral clapped his hands together, then pointed at the plane again, demanding Pond look at it properly. Pond obliged, tilting his head, and Tyral laughed, delighted.
Phuwin watched them, the warmth in his chest spreading. The fairy lights shimmered. The waves kept their rhythm. He touched the ring on his finger and felt the weight of it, the reality of it, the future.
"I didn't get a good view of the kiss," Jungkook called out, walking up with a grin. "I'll be waiting for another one later."
Phuwin turned, the laughter bubbling out of him. "I'm waiting for you and Taehyung to kiss already."
Jungkook's face went red. "That's—that's different."
"Is it?" Phuwin raised an eyebrow. "Taehyung's going to get breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert all at one time. Just warning you."
Jungkook spluttered, and Taehyung, who had been standing a few feet away with a cup of something, choked on his drink. "What?! I—that's not—"
"Pond's definitely gonna have to pay a fee for a broken bed," Jungkook shot back, still red. "You two are not quiet."
Phuwin just shook his head, still laughing. He leaned into Pond's side, feeling the warmth of his body, the solidness of him. Pond shifted Tyral to his other hip and wrapped his free arm around Phuwin's waist, pulling him close.
Tyral was still talking—pointing at the ocean, at the lights, at the flowers. Pond answered him patiently, teaching him how to say "hands" instead of just pointing and screaming. Tyral clapped, laughing softly, his giggles like wind chimes.
Phuwin watched them, and in the quiet space between one wave and the next, he spoke, his voice so low no one else could hear it.
"I'll make you happy, Soònào. I promise. And you'll be there. At the wedding. I know you will."
The wind answered him, warm and salt-scented, and the lanterns flickered.
Pond's arm tightened around him, and Phuwin pressed his face into his shoulder, the ring warm against his skin, the future already here.