Fortified -Pau Cubarsí-

13 - salt water and sparks

The house is still dark when I slip out of bed, careful not to wake anyone. The soft hum of the city at this hour always feels like a secret, and I cherish it. I've never needed much sleep to function. A few hours will do.

I pull on my hoodie, the fabric comforting against my skin, still warm from the last time I wore it. The cool, crisp air outside greets me as I step out, and I can already hear the distant sound of the sea in the breeze. This is my time. This quiet, untouched world before the city comes alive.

The only sound as I wheel my bike out of the garage is the soft click of the lock. My bike, a little worn and scratched from too many late-night rides, still serves its purpose. The tires hum beneath me as I pedal through the still streets, the cool air brushing against my face, waking me up.

I take a deep breath, the scent of saltwater already in the breeze. It's still early enough that the streets are empty, and the world feels like it's all mine. No distractions. No noise. Just me, the bike, and the path to the beach.

As I ride, I can't help but think about Pau. He's back now, or should be by this time. I wonder if he's in the middle of a team meeting or back at his place, taking a well-deserved rest. Maybe he's planning on grabbing a quick nap before another round of training or an interview. I haven't heard from him since he landed, but that's typical. He's busy, and I'm usually fine with it.

But sometimes...

Sometimes, I wish he'd text me more. Or maybe stop by. Even though we're just friends—or at least, I keep telling myself we are—I always feel like there's something more hanging in the air when he's around. Something unspoken.

I shake my head to clear the thought, focusing on the path ahead.

The bike ride to the beach feels longer than usual, the night chill settling into my bones. When I finally reach the sand, I can't help but smile, feeling the rush of excitement as I look out at the sea. The first light of dawn is starting to break on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of deep purple and soft pink. The waves are gentle, a peaceful rhythm I know so well.

I'm alone, just like always. The beach at this hour is almost sacred, with the only sounds being the rhythm of the waves and the soft rustle of the sand beneath my feet. I drop my bike near the water's edge, the coolness of the sand seeping into my feet. It's the perfect moment to let everything go.

I pull off my hoodie, the soft material falling to the sand. There's no one around, and that's exactly the way I want it. The cold bite of the water against my skin feels like a shock at first, but it's a good shock—a wake-up call. I dive into the waves, my body cutting through the cool, salty water, feeling the resistance with each stroke.

When I break the surface, I'm immediately greeted by the cool morning air, the wind biting at my damp skin. I swim farther out, the water now tugging at me with each stroke, pulling me deeper into the sea. The waves grow a little more insistent, but it only pushes me faster, further, deeper.

I stop for a moment, floating on my back and letting the water carry me. The stillness of the water around me feels like a cocoon, wrapping me in the peace of the early morning. The sky above me is slowly changing, light creeping in, but for now, I'm alone in the water, in my thoughts.

The only sounds are the waves and the soft rhythm of my breath.

And then, I hear it—a splash.

I freeze, my heart jumping in my chest.

The sound is faint, but it's unmistakable. Someone's here.

I blink, but I don't see anyone yet.

Another splash.