The first morning by the endless sea began with absolute, unbroken silence.
It wasn't the uneasy, suffocating silence that had haunted them right after Tim's sudden disappearance, nor the chilling quiet of those hospital corridors where every passing footstep seemed to carry either desperate hope or devastating news. This silence was entirely different. It was gentle, soft, and healing. The steady, rhythmic whisper of waves rolling onto the shore drifted through the open balcony doors, beautifully mingling with the cries of distant gulls and the soft rustle of curtains stirred by the salt breeze.
Willy woke well before sunrise, and for a few disorienting seconds, his mind completely forgot where they were.
His gaze settled blankly on the unfamiliar wooden ceiling before wandering toward the balcony, where a pale orange light was just beginning to creep over the dark horizon. The vast sea beyond was perfectly calm, its surface reflecting the very first hints of dawn like a sheet of polished glass. Only then, as the cold air hit his skin, did the heavy memories come rushing back into his thoughts: the brutal competition, the frantic hospital room, and Tim's utterly reckless escape. He remembered finding him standing barefoot in the surf, looking so serene, as though the entire world had not been actively searching for his whereabouts.
A quiet, tired sigh escaped Willy's lips as he turned his head. Beside him on the mattress, Tim was still deeply asleep.
That view alone felt incredibly strange to his senses, because normally, Tim was always the first one awake in their world. He would quietly slip out of bed before dawn, start the kettle, open the wide windows, and somehow manage to prepare a warm breakfast before Willy had even convinced his mind to leave the comfort of the blankets. But not anymore. The heavy pain medication kept his body asleep much longer now, and the trauma of the injuries exhausted him even when he did absolutely nothing but rest.
Willy turned onto his side, propping his head up on his hand to study his features carefully. Even in deep sleep, Tim looked utterly exhausted.
There were faint, dark shadows beneath his closed eyes that hadn't disappeared since the final shot of the competition. A stark white bandage peeked out from beneath the sleeve of the oversized shirt he had borrowed from Willy's bag, hiding the heavily wrapped shoulder and torn wrist underneath the soft fabric. His breathing remained slow and even, but every so often his brow would twitch slightly, as though his unconscious body still remembered the sharp memory of the physical pain.
It physically hurt Willy's heart to look at him like this not because the injuries were entirely permanent, as the doctors had assured them they would heal with time, but because Tim had carried the agonizing weight of them completely alone for weeks.
How much had they truly hurt? How many lonely nights had he lain awake in the dark, pretending everything was perfectly fine? How many times had Willy unknowingly asked his body to train even harder for the title? The painful questions refused to leave his mind, swirling restlessly in his thoughts. Very carefully, moving as slowly as possible, he reached over and brushed a loose strand of dark hair away from Tim's cool forehead.
Tim stirred almost immediately under the gentle touch, his dark eyelashes fluttering as a rough, sleepy murmur escaped his lips. "...Morning..."
"Morning," Willy answered softly, keeping his voice a quiet whisper in the dim room.
Tim blinked several times, his eyes adjusting to the pale morning light before a faint, knowing smile touched his lips. "You've been staring at me."
"I have not," Willy lied instantly, clearing his throat.
"You definitely have love."
"I was simply making sure your stubborn heart was still alive."
"I survived, didn't I?"
"You literally collapsed, Tim."
"And I recovered," Tim countered smoothly, his gaze remaining infuriatingly calm.
"You escaped from a secure medical hospital through the back."
Tim looked completely, beautifully unapologetic about the entire stunt. "Personally, I just highly improved our recovery process."
Willy let out a breathy laugh despite his best efforts to remain stern. "You are honestly impossible."
"So I've been told across my entire life," Tim murmured softly.
For a long moment, neither of them moved an inch, allowing the warmth of the bed to hold them safe. Then, Tim made the mistake of attempting to sit up on his own. The brave attempt lasted approximately two seconds before a sharp, ragged breath escaped his lips, his features contorting as a fresh wave of agony shot straight through his damaged shoulder.
Willy was already moving before Tim could even think about trying again. "Don't move, Tim."
"I'm fine, really"
"No, you aren't."
"Willy, I can"
"I said no."
Tim frowned in frustration, his jaw setting. "I only wanted to sit up."
"And I only want your body to heal properly," Willy replied with soft authority. Without another word, he slipped his strong arm behind Tim's back, gently supporting his dead weight while adjusting the fluffy pillows one by one until Tim was sitting comfortably upright against the headboard.
The entire movement was awkward and slow, and Tim clearly disliked every single microsecond of needing physical assistance. "I can easily do that myself," he muttered under his breath, looking away.
"I know you can."
"You don't have to treat me like fragile glass, Willy."
"I'm not treating you like glass."
"It honestly feels like you are."
Willy smiled softly, his heart melting at the stubborn pride. He reached down and pulled the thick blanket a little higher over Tim's lap to guard him from the ocean breeze. "No, Tim. I'm simply treating you the exact way you treated me for months."
Tim looked up quickly, their eyes meeting in the quiet room, and a deep understanding settled silently between them.
Months ago, right after Tim had finally returned from his dangerous, secret mission, it had been Tim who stayed awake through the darkest hours of Willy's worst nightmares. It was Tim who cooked every single meal because Willy constantly forgot to eat, Tim who silently reached for his trembling hand whenever anxiety made breathing impossible, and Tim who patiently reminded him that resting his body wasn't a sign of weakness. Back then, Willy had protested just as much against the care, and now, looking at the stubborn man before him, he finally understood exactly how exhausting he must have been to manage.
"You absolutely hated this positioning too," Willy said with a small, fond smile.
Tim groaned out loud, leaning his head back against the pillows. "I was honestly hoping your mind hadn't noticed that detail."
"I noticed absolutely everything, Grant."
"Unfortunately for me," Tim chuckled softly.
Breakfast quickly became another quiet battle between them. Tim insistently argued that his body wasn't hungry, but Willy completely ignored the protests. By the time the tray reached the bedside, it held golden toast, fresh fruit, eggs, hot tea, and enough prescribed medication to make Tim sigh quite dramatically.
"I think you're actively trying to poison me with these doses," Tim muttered, eyeing the pills.
"I'm trying to stop you from pretending you're entirely indestructible," Willy corrected gently, placing the tray down. "You've survived this long by a thread."
"Barely," Tim conceded quietly, accepting the plate anyway.
They ate their breakfast sitting side by side near the open balcony doors while the cool morning breeze drifted pleasantly through the room. Neither of them spoke much, but the silence stretching between them had always been the most comfortable thing in their lives.
Outside, the sandy beach was slowly coming alive with the start of the weekend. Young children chased one another across the shoreline, old couples walked slowly along the water's edge, and distant fishermen prepared their wooden boats farther down the coast. Life was continuing quietly out there, but for the very first time in weeks, neither of them had anywhere they needed to be. There was no grueling training schedule, no intense national competitions on the horizon, and no rigid hospital timelines to follow. There was just recovery.
It should have felt completely peaceful to Willy's mind, but instead, he found himself anxiously studying Tim every few minutes without even realizing it. He watched each time Tim accidentally reached for something with his injured side, each time his features winced before he quickly pretended he hadn't felt a thing, and each time deep fatigue settled heavily over his handsome face.
Tim noticed the constant surveillance, of course. "You know," he said eventually, turning his head with a smirk, "if you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to become incredibly self-conscious."
"I'm just checking on you."
"For what exactly?"
"Whether your stubborn mind is actually listening to the doctor's instructions."
Tim smiled, his eyes softening. "And here I thought you were just admiring my view."
"I can easily multitask," Willy quipped back without missing a beat.
That playful response earned him a real, genuine laugh this time. The sweet sound instantly eased the tight knot of anxiety inside Willy's chest, reminding his heart that despite the trauma, Tim was still right here beside him. Still laughing, still teasing, and still smoothly stealing small pieces of toast from Willy's plate whenever he wasn't paying attention.
Later that afternoon, after finally convincing Tim to take his next round of medication and rest his eyes again, Willy quietly slipped out onto the sunlit balcony with his laptop. He waited a few extra minutes until he heard Tim's deep, steady breathing from the bed before opening the screen.
The display instantly filled with dozens of private browser tabs he had carefully hidden away over the past several days. There were wedding venues, small seaside chapels, formal suits, flower arrangements, guest lists, custom ring designers, and complex budget spreadsheets. He stared at the glowing screen for a long, quiet moment before a soft smile spread across his face.
Absolutely no one knew about this architecture. Not Seb, not Ethan, not Logan, not Al, and certainly not either of their families. And most importantly, not Tim. The solitary thought alone made his heart beat faster against his ribs. He wasn't planning anything grand or extravagant, because he knew Tim would absolutely hate empty extravagance; he wanted something entirely honest, something that felt purely like them. Somewhere quiet, somewhere isolated, somewhere beautiful overlooking the vast sea.
He imagined Tim standing beneath a clear summer sky, laughing because Willy had become so incredibly nervous that he forgot half of the vows he wanted to say out loud. The vivid image made him smile warmly without even realizing it.
Suddenly, the glass balcony door slid open behind his chair.
Willy reacted instantly on pure adrenaline, slamming the laptop shut before Tim could get a single glimpse of the open screen.
Tim blinked sleepily in the bright light, rubbing his eyes. "What are you doing out here?"
Willy's heartbeat jumped into his throat, his hands freezing on the plastic case. "Nothing."
Tim narrowed his eyes suspiciously, stepping a bit closer. "You have never looked less convincing in your entire life, William."
"I was merely answering some leftover emails from the club."
"You looked completely guilty just now."
"I always look guilty around you," Willy countered, trying to steady his voice.
Tim chuckled softly, the fatigue keeping him from pressing any further. "I'll let it go for now."
Willy silently thanked every single bit of luck he had left in his soul, letting out a slow breath. Because if Tim had walked outside just thirty seconds earlier... the beautiful surprise would have been ruined entirely. And Willy wasn't ready for that disclosure not just yet.