Lucian wanted to open the letter immediately.

Sebastian gently closed the box. “Not here.”

“That's cruel.”

“I know.”

“You just asked me to be your boyfriend. You're already becoming insufferable.”

Sebastian kissed his forehead. “Pack a bag for the weekend.”

Lucian narrowed his eyes. “Are you kidnapping me?”

“I'm inviting you somewhere. You can say no.”

“Where?”

“A place you know.”

Lucian considered making him beg. Instead, he went upstairs and packed in eleven minutes.

They drove toward the coast the next morning. Sebastian had arranged the trip around his recovery appointments and brought the cushion recommended by his therapist.

Lucian noticed the care with which he adjusted his seat.

“Does your back hurt?”

“A little.”

“We can turn around.”

“I'd rather keep going, if you don't mind.”

Lucian reached across the console and held his hand at the next red light.

The road curved through pine trees and opened onto a familiar stretch of ocean. Lucian sat upright.

“No way.”

Sebastian smiled. “Recognize it?”

“The beach house?”

Their families had spent summers there when they were children. Lucian remembered saltwater taffy, scratched knees, and a hundred arguments about who got the bigger bedroom.

The house looked almost unchanged. Blue shutters framed the windows. A weathered wooden swing hung from the porch.

Lucian hurried up the steps, then stopped when he saw the little brass bell beside the door.

“I broke this when I was ten.”

“You claimed a seagull did it.”

“It was a very aggressive seagull.”

“You were holding a baseball bat.”

Lucian laughed. Sebastian opened the door and let him go in first.

Inside, the walls displayed photographs from two decades of family holidays. Evelyn and Margaret laughing on the beach. Both fathers at a barbecue. Two boys building a crooked sandcastle.

Lucian touched the frame of one photograph. “You kept all this?”

“Our families did. I asked Mom not to change anything.”

In the living room stood the old wooden chest that had once held their toys. Lucian knelt and opened it.

There was the battered toy airplane he'd stolen from Sebastian, a deck of cards missing the queen of hearts, and a blue ribbon from a school field day.

“You really are sentimental,” Lucian whispered.

“Only about certain things.”

Before the walk, Lucian discovered that Sebastian had stocked the kitchen with all their childhood favorites. There were lemon candies, strawberry jam, and the terrible instant cocoa they used to drink after swimming.

“You remembered the cocoa?” Lucian asked.

“You insisted it was the best in the world.”

“It was.”

“It tastes like melted cardboard.”

“Expensive melted cardboard.”

They made two mugs and sat on the porch steps. Lucian took one sip and grimaced.

“Okay. It is awful.”

Sebastian looked delighted. “A historic admission.”

“Don't tell anyone.”

“Your secret is safe.”

The porch swing creaked in the wind. Lucian remembered one summer when he'd refused to share it, so Sebastian sat on the steps until Lucian got lonely and invited him up.

“Did I really make your childhood miserable?” Lucian asked.

“Parts of it were loud.”

“That's not the same thing.”

Sebastian considered. “You were the person I most wanted to see every summer.”

Lucian looked into his mug. “I always checked whether your car had arrived.”

“You never told me.”

“I was busy pretending I hated you.”

Sebastian reached for his hand. Their fingers fit together with surprising ease.

For a moment Lucian imagined all the summers they'd wasted pretending not to care. Then he looked at Sebastian beside him and decided that regret could wait. They still had summers ahead.

They spent the afternoon walking along the beach. Sebastian moved carefully on the uneven sand, and Lucian matched his pace without comment.

At the edge of the garden stood an old oak tree. Two sets of initials had been carved into its trunk years earlier.

L.B. + S.H.

Lucian traced the letters. “I remember doing this.”

“You said it meant we were business partners.”

“We were selling seashells.”

“You charged people for shells you found on a public beach.”

“Entrepreneurship.”

“You made three dollars.”

“And you stole half.”

“I bought you ice cream.”

Lucian turned to him. “You always did that.”

“Did what?”

“Acted annoyed, then gave me the thing I wanted anyway.”

Sebastian looked toward the sea. “Not always. Sometimes I was genuinely unkind.”

Lucian remembered their first night living together, the shouting and the humiliation. He had laughed about some childhood fights, but that night still stung.

Sebastian seemed to understand without being told.

“I need to apologize,” he said. “I used to think being the older, stronger one meant I could force you to listen. I was wrong.”

Lucian watched him closely.

“I shouldn't have handled our fights that way,” Sebastian continued. “Especially the first night you moved in. You deserved better.”

Lucian swallowed. “I was awful too.”

“You were. But that doesn't excuse what I did.”

For once, Lucian didn't argue. He stepped forward and hugged him.

“I want us to be different now,” he said.

“We are,” Sebastian answered. “And we'll keep learning.”

They returned to the house as the sky turned peach and gold. Sebastian prepared a simple dinner while Lucian set the table, deliberately placing the forks on the wrong side.

Sebastian noticed and left them alone.

“Personal growth,” Lucian announced.

“An astonishing amount.”

After dinner, Sebastian placed the wooden box between them.

“Ready?”

Lucian nodded.

The letter was written in Sebastian's careful teenage handwriting. Lucian read slowly.

Dear Lucy,

I don't know when you stopped being the boy who stole my toys and became the person I look for in every room.

You make me angry. You make me laugh. You make every quiet day feel unfinished.

I was frightened when you nearly got hurt. I would make the same choice again, but I wish I could have protected you without making you feel guilty.

I won't give you this letter. You're still figuring out who you are, and I don't want my feelings to become something you owe me.

Maybe someday I'll be brave enough to tell you. Until then, I'll be your friend, even when you drive me crazy.

Sebastian.

Lucian read the final line twice. His eyes blurred.

“You wrote this after the accident?”

“Yes.”

“And you kept it?”

“I tried throwing it away once.”

“What happened?”

“I went back to the trash can.”

Lucian laughed wetly. “Idiot.”

“Frequently.”

“Why didn't you tell me later?”

“Because we kept missing each other. You were away at school. I was working. And every time I saw you, we argued about something ridiculous.”

“Usually because you started it.”

“Sometimes,” Sebastian admitted.

Lucian folded the letter carefully. “What about my moving in? Was that planned?”

“Our mothers suggested it. I agreed because I wanted to know you again. But you could have left whenever you wanted.”

“I did leave.”

“And I waited.”

Lucian wiped his cheeks. “You're making me cry on purpose.”

“No,” Sebastian said, smiling gently. “But I brought tissues.”

He handed over a box from the side table. Lucian laughed so hard he had to cover his face.

Later, Sebastian asked him to take one more walk.

The garden path was illuminated by tiny lanterns. Beyond the trees, Lucian could see the sea glimmering in the moonlight.

“What's all this?” he asked.

Sebastian offered his hand. “Something I've wanted to show you.”

They rounded the corner, and Lucian stopped.

A path of white roses stretched toward the beach.