And there he was.
Again.
Every day that boy would come to this place, and look over the ocean, with longing in shining in his brilliant eyes, lips slightly parted in a beautiful smile.
The man sighed.
He had studied the boy long enough to know the boy had mid-long hair with shining deep blue eyes, just like the ocean he was looking at.
The man wanted to touch the pleasant skin of the boy, which was as white as the sand that lay on the beach by the ocean.
He wanted to feel it, hold it and keep it all by himself.
But of course he couldn’t.
A breeze blew gently through the trees, and tilted up softly the silken locks of this boy. And now the boy would sigh, and turn away. He would look over his shoulders one more time, before disappearing in the forest again…

Emeal leaned against the rail, taking in the wonderful sight of the setting sun, being swallowed by the deep water of the ocean.
His eyes shone brightly with the thoughts in his head, spinning, swirling, and giving him a warm feeling with every fantasy he had, playing like an old movie on repeat in his head.
‘It’s a sin’ the boy thought, but nonetheless couldn’t help but smile by the thought of his love being returned.
It was wrong, Emeal knew.
It was wrong to love such an old man.
But although he didn’t wanted it to happen, Emeal longed for the love of the man now sitting on a bench behind him and watching his back.
He wanted the man to, one day, stand up and walk to him.
To pull his arms around him, hold him, and whisper sweet nothings while they both would watch the sun set.
Then Emeal would declare his love for the man, ask his name. And the man would tell his name (Damiel, Emeal named the man in his head), and tell him he loved Emeal to.
They would kiss, and hold hands, and everything would be okay, and everybody would be happy for them.
And nobody would think it wrong.
Each day, Emeal came here, to stand against the railing, watching the waves, waiting for the man to come and hold him.
Each day, Emeal would be disappointed.
He sighed, and turned away.
When walking back home, Emeal looked over his shoulder, only to see the man not looking at him, but the ocean.
‘I’m not doing this anymore. It’s stupid anyway’ Emeal decided, knowing he did just that every evening.
‘Tomorrow it would rain anyway. And the day after that…and the day after…’