The sea smelled like salt and sunlight.
Warm wind moved through the air softly while waves crashed against the shore in slow endless rhythms.
The beach was crowded.
Children running through the sand.
Parents shouting from umbrellas.
Music playing faintly from somebody's radio nearby.
And right in the middle of all of it—
Cristiano and Giacomo walked barefoot near the water.
They were small still.
Seven years old.
Maybe a little older.
Too young for the amount of anger they would eventually carry later in life.
Giacomo walked slightly ahead through the wet sand while talking loudly with his hands like always.
"…and then he started CRYING."
Cristiano laughed quietly beside him.
"No he didn't."
"He DID."
Giacomo pointed dramatically.
"I swear on my mother."
"You swear on your mother every five minutes."
"Because she's trustworthy."
Cristiano shook his head while smiling faintly.
Giacomo continued talking anyway.
Fast.
Loud.
Endlessly energetic.
His short textured hair moved wildly in the wind while he walked backward through the sand without looking where he was going.
"And then my brother says—"
Suddenly—
he stopped.
Cristiano blinked once.
"…What?"
Giacomo's expression changed instantly.
The laughter disappeared from his face.
His eyes moved toward a rocky area further down the beach.
Cristiano followed his gaze.
And immediately—
his chest tightened slightly.
A group of older boys stood near the concrete wall by the stairs leading off the beach.
Three of them.
Maybe thirteen or fourteen years old.
Too old to be acting like this.
One of them shoved another child violently into the ground.
The younger boy curled slightly while trying to protect himself.
And then one of the older boys kicked him hard in the side.
The sound reached them clearly.
Cristiano's expression darkened immediately.
The younger boy held a football tightly against his chest like he was afraid they'd take it too.
Another kick.
Then laughter.
Cruel laughter.
Giacomo's jaw tightened instantly.
Cristiano quietly said:
"…We should help him."
Giacomo didn't answer.
He had already started walking toward them.
Fast.
Cristiano followed immediately beside him.
The older boys noticed them approaching after a few seconds.
At first they laughed.
Then suddenly—
one of them froze slightly.
"…Wait."
Another boy narrowed his eyes.
"…Giacomo?"
The tone changed instantly.
Recognition.
Not friendly recognition either.
The oldest boy smirked cruelly.
"Well look at that."
His eyes shifted toward Cristiano beside him.
"You brought your little dog too?"
Cristiano's expression remained calm.
But Giacomo immediately stepped forward aggressively.
"Shut the fuck up."
The older boys laughed loudly.
"Oooooh."
"He's angry."
"Careful guys, the dog might bark."
The younger kid on the ground slowly looked up now.
And for the first time—
Cristiano saw his face clearly.
Buzzcut.
Blue eyes.
Thin body.
A bloody lip.
Gulli.
Young.
Terrified.
But trying very hard not to show it.
One of the older boys grabbed the football from his arms roughly.
"You think you can play with us?"
Another shove.
Gulli stumbled sideways into the wall.
And that was enough.
Cristiano moved first.
Quickly.
Calmly.
One clean movement.
He stepped forward and ripped the ball directly out of the older boy's hands before he could react.
The boy blinked.
"…What the fu—"
Giacomo punched him immediately.
THUD.
Straight into the face.
Everything exploded afterward.
Shouting.
Sand flying everywhere.
One of the boys tried grabbing Giacomo from behind but Giacomo elbowed him hard in the stomach.
Cristiano shoved another one backward aggressively before he could reach Gulli.
The older boys clearly expected fear.
Not resistance.
Especially not from children smaller than them.
Giacomo tackled one into the sand completely while yelling curses louder than any seven-year-old should know.
Cristiano kept hold of the football the entire time somehow.
Eventually—
the older boys started retreating.
Mostly because Giacomo genuinely looked insane now.
"You're fucking DEAD next time!"
"Yeah yeah shut up."
Giacomo spit sand out of his mouth aggressively.
"And next time I'll break your fucking nose properly."
The boys cursed while backing away down the beach.
Then finally disappeared.
Silence returned slowly afterward.
Heavy breathing.
Waves crashing nearby.
The wind moving softly again.
Cristiano looked down at the football still in his hands.
Then slowly—
he turned toward Gulli.
The younger boy still sat partly against the wall.
Breathing unevenly.
Eyes wide.
Cristiano walked toward him quietly.
Then gently held the ball out.
His voice calm.
Not dramatic.
Not proud.
Just simple.
"…Here."
Gulli stared at him silently for a second.
Then slowly took the football back.
Like he still couldn't believe it.
Cristiano looked at the bruises already forming around his arms and face.
But didn't comment on them.
Gulli finally whispered softly:
"…Thanks."
Cristiano nodded once.
Nothing more.
No heroic speech.
No fake confidence.
Just understanding.
For a moment—
Gulli kept staring at him strangely.
Like trying to understand why someone would help him without asking for anything back.
Then slowly—
he stood up.
Still clutching the ball tightly.
And quietly walked away down the beach.
The wind moved through his buzzcut softly while he disappeared further along the shore.
Giacomo finally walked beside Cristiano again while brushing sand off his shorts.
Then grinned slightly.
"So?"
Cristiano looked at him.
Giacomo smirked wider.
"Made a new friend?"
Cristiano stayed quiet for a second.
Then softly—
he nodded.
"…I think so."
Giacomo laughed.
Then the two boys started walking down the beach again beneath the orange evening sunlight.
Small figures against the sea.
Completely unaware of how deeply they would wound each other years later.