Ocean Kisses

Waves

keralis pov

Every day, without fail, I walked the shoreline. The waves would lap at my feet, cold and unyielding, as if trying to remind me that the ocean held its own secrets, far beyond my reach. I scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of him—those teal eyes, the familiar ripple of movement in the water—but there was nothing. Just the steady crash of waves and the cry of gulls overhead.

As the days grew shorter and the chill of winter crept in, I finally stopped my daily walks. The sand turned icy beneath the frost, and the wind carried a biting cold that made it hard to linger. Once the snow began to fall, I retreated to my bookstore, seeking solace among the pages of books and the quiet hum of familiarity.

But even surrounded by warmth, I couldn’t shake the unease that clung to me. I poured over every journal, every note, and every scrap of information I had on ocean monuments, guardians, and the strange mysteries of the deep. None of it gave me answers. None of it told me why XB had vanished or why he hadn’t come back.

I found myself fiddling with the necklace more often, the shells rough against my fingertips. It should’ve been a comfort, a tangible reminder of him, but instead, it only deepened the ache in my chest. The gem buried beneath the shells remained hidden, much like the truth I was so desperate to uncover.

“What happened to you, XB?” I whispered to the empty room, my voice barely carrying over the sound of snow tapping against the windows. But, as always, the silence gave no reply.

Beef and the others tried their best to lift my spirits. They dragged me out to dinners, gatherings, even a few impromptu adventures, all in an attempt to pull me out of the funk I couldn’t seem to shake. They meant well, and I appreciated their efforts, but the truth was, their company only distracted me for so long before my thoughts drifted back to him.

Every so often, I thought I caught a glimpse of him. A flash of teal in the corner of my eye, or someone moving with a grace that reminded me of him in the crowd. My heart would leap every time, only to plummet when I realized it wasn’t him. It was always someone else—different faces, different builds. The disappointment stung more each time, a cruel reminder that he wasn’t here.

What hurt the most, though, was the questions. They haunted me, swirling in my mind like an unrelenting storm. Why had he left so abruptly? Why hadn’t he come back? What had happened to the guardians at the monument?

No one had answers. Not Beef, not Xisuma, not even Cleo with her sharp observations. Every time I brought it up, the same concerned looks and comforting reassurances followed, but they never filled the void.

“He’ll come back,” False had said once, her tone firm but unconvincing.

I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe that he was out there, somewhere, and that one day I’d see those teal eyes again. But with each passing day, the hope that had kept me going began to dim, replaced by an aching sense of loss I didn’t know how to ease.

On one particularly warm winter day, when the chill wasn’t as biting as usual, I found myself wandering back to the beach. Something about the sea always pulled me in, even if it brought more questions than answers. I didn’t dare sit too close to the water—frostbite wasn’t something I wanted to risk—but I found a comfortable spot near enough to hear the waves crash against the shore.

For a while, I just sat there, staring out at the endless expanse of water. The ocean had a strange way of making me feel both small and connected, as if it held answers I couldn’t yet grasp. My fingers absentmindedly toyed with the necklace he had given me, the shells smooth and cool against my skin.

It wasn’t until I glanced down that I noticed it: one of the shells was cracked.

I frowned, confused. I’d been so careful with it, treating it like the fragile treasure it was. When had this happened? The crack wasn’t large, but it was enough to catch my attention, revealing the faintest glimmer of something beneath the layers of shell.

Curiosity bubbled up inside me. Carefully, I ran my thumb over the crack, testing the edges. The shell seemed to give slightly under my touch, as if it had been waiting for this moment. I hesitated. Should I break it further? Would that ruin it—or uncover something he’d left behind?

The wind picked up, carrying with it the faint scent of salt and something else, something familiar. It was almost like… him. My heart clenched, the ache of longing and hope twisting together as I stared down at the cracked shell, debating what to do.

I decided I couldn’t break the shell. It felt wrong, as if I would be destroying something more than just the fragile layer of calcium. This necklace was a connection, the last tangible piece of him I had, and the thought of damaging it any further sent a pang through my chest.

Carefully, I tucked it back beneath my coat, shielding it from the chill wind as I stood up. The beach wasn’t where I needed to be right now. If the shell was cracked, I could fix it—or at least try.

As I made my way back to the bookstore, the snow crunched softly beneath my boots, and the familiar comfort of the place loomed ahead like a safe haven. Once inside, I immediately went to the small worktable in the back corner, where I kept odds and ends for mending things—pages, bindings, and even small keepsakes like this.

I dug through the tiny drawer where I kept spare shells, carefully selecting a few that were close in size and color. My hands worked on autopilot, but my mind raced. Why had it cracked? Had it been weakening over time, or was it something more?

I laid the necklace gently on a cloth and examined the damaged shell. It still shimmered faintly, the crack jagged but not completely through. There was no need to break it further; I just had to patch it, smooth it out, make it whole again.

As I prepared the adhesive and began working, I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of peace wash over me. Fixing this didn’t fix everything—not the unanswered questions, not the ache of missing him—but it was something. It was a start.