The Seashell

Summary: Steffan is down at the beach, looking but not finding

Disclaimer: MotRD = not mine

On light feet, his gaze roaming the sand, bare-assed and with long silver-blonde hair flowing around his body, and absolutely oblivious about the awe-filled eyes that followed his every move, Steffan made his way over the fine white sand of the beach. He was engaged in a hunt, and his prey: seashells. Though this far he hadn't found a single one.

Other days, when he hadn't been looking for them, they seemed to be everywhere so where were them now? It's not like they could just walk away… right?

Steffan stopped, tilting his head to the side, a giggle – which made the heads of everybody around (who wasn't already looking) turn to along with the rest drool at the sight – escaped his lips, imagining a bunch of seashells sprout legs and run away when nobody was looking.

Nah, he was probably just too late, others must have picked them up already.

His attention caught by something glittering to his right he turned and he was immediately, like times before, taken by the beauty of the sun playing on the soft waves stirred up on the vast water.

Step by step he walked out into the water, so clear he could see the bottom through it, till it engulfed his body. Then he sunk down under the surface his hair swirling around him, and giving in completely to relaxation let a stream take him wherever it wished while he scanned the surroundings.

The further the stream took him, the more fishes appeared around him. Fishes in all shapes, sizes and colors, all wonderful and beautiful, playing and chasing about among the reefs. Amazed Steffan looked at the scenery till he finally felt his lungs burning and he had to surface again.

By the surface he looked around, seeing that he'd drifted far from the beach he'd been on. On his left he spotted a small island, and driven by impulse he swam toward it.

Reaching the beach, looking much like the one he'd been on though a little smaller and empty of people, he sat down on the sand resting after the swim.

"What took you so long?" a voice pulled him out of his thoughts when he'd been sitting on the beach for a while.

He turned to stare at the person who came to sit down next to him and his whole face broke into a wide smile when his gaze landed on Anton.

"How long have you been here?" Steffan inquired.

"For a while," the usually pale, now with a hint of a tan, man replied. "I've been waiting for you."

"How did you know I would come here?" Steffan gazed at him confused. "I could have picked any other island around here."

Anton smiled mysteriously.

"But you didn't," he said. "You came right here, like I had a feeling you would."

Steffan stared at him dumbfounded. Anton trusted feeling over fact? But instead of asking he just crept closer and leant against Anton, who wrapped an arm around him.

"Did you find any seashells?"

"No." Steffan pouted a little. "Not a single one."

Anton reached out his hand, his fingers hiding something within their grasp. Curious, Steffan unfolded the fingers and opened the hand to reveal a pretty seashell resting on the palm, shimmering as the sun touched it.