The sky darkened slowly, a velvet sheet stretching above them, with stars beginning to sprinkle the heavens like tiny diamonds. The last of the sunset had faded, and in the cooling quiet of the evening, only the sound of the ocean remained. The waves whispered their secrets to the shore as the people around Rainan stayed near, offering the soft comfort of their presence without a single word spoken.
Angelo sat on the sand beside him, still holding his hand. He hadn’t let go since the moment they arrived. There was a part of him, a deep, aching part, that wanted to keep holding on—never let go of this moment, never let go of Rainan.
But time, like the tide, would not wait.
Rainan turned his head slightly, watching the horizon. His breath had become shallow, his chest rising and falling more slowly with each passing minute. The fading light caught the edges of his face, casting long shadows that seemed to make him appear more fragile, more ethereal.
“It’s funny,” Rainan murmured, his voice raspy but calm. “I always thought the sea was endless. That it would just… stretch forever.”
Angelo squeezed his hand tighter. “It is endless, just like you said.”
Rainan smiled weakly. “Yeah… maybe. But it’s not forever. Nothing is.”
Angelo didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The words he wanted to say were stuck—locked in the tightness of his throat. He wanted to promise Rainan that everything would be okay, that he would be okay, but he knew the truth too well now.
He was slipping away.
The others had gathered around a small campfire, keeping their distance, giving them space but not leaving them alone. Mikaela stood a little apart from the rest, her arms wrapped tightly around Clara, the little girl’s head resting on her shoulder. Her eyes were red-rimmed, the silent tears still falling, but she hadn’t let anyone see. She was strong, but even strength couldn’t keep the weight of grief from crushing her chest.
Adrian, too, stood a little further back, his eyes fixed on the two of them. He hadn’t said much since they’d arrived—only small words, small gestures of support. His normally confident demeanor seemed shaken, as though seeing Rainan in this state had broken something inside of him too.
Lance was beside him, a hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t spoken much either, but he knew the pain too well. The quiet death of a loved one was a silent kind of grief—one that lingered and never fully went away.
The fire crackled softly behind them, the warmth of it mingling with the cool night air. Rainan’s parents, Leticia and Eduardo, were seated near the water’s edge, speaking quietly among themselves, exchanging soft words in hushed tones, as if they didn’t want the world to hear the weight of their sorrow. They hadn’t said much to Rainan in the past few hours—only soft, steady murmurs of love, a few gentle caresses, and words meant to comfort.
But Rainan hadn’t spoken much either. He had grown tired.
He had said all he needed to say.
And now, as the night wrapped around them like a blanket, Angelo knew—knew with a sinking feeling in his chest—that it was almost time.
“Angelo…” Rainan’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes distant, focused on the now-dark horizon. “Can we just sit here for a while? I think… I think I want to just… be here.”
“Of course,” Angelo whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of it all.
And so, they sat together—silent and still, the world around them fading to nothing but the sound of the waves and the soft rustling of the wind. Angelo held him as the minutes passed, the warmth of his body against his own the only comfort he could offer.
The silence stretched out for what felt like forever, but it was interrupted by the soft click of footsteps approaching. Rainan’s parents came closer, their faces etched with the exhaustion of watching their son fade away, yet full of love and compassion.
Eduardo knelt down beside Rainan, a hand gently brushing his hair away from his forehead. “I’m here, son,” he whispered. “I’ll always be here.”
Leticia, her voice shaking, added, “We love you so much.”
Rainan’s lips parted in a slow, tired smile. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, savoring the warmth of their touch. “I know,” he murmured softly. “I always knew.”
Angelo held his breath, watching the quiet exchange unfold, trying to burn the image of his family’s love for Rainan into his memory.
He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t bear to miss a single second of it.
The night seemed to slow as Rainan’s breathing deepened. His chest rose and fell more heavily, and his body seemed to grow lighter. Angelo’s hand remained in his, his thumb tracing circles on the back of Rainan’s hand, desperately holding on.
“Angelo,” Rainan spoke again, his voice weaker now. “I need to sleep. Just for a while…”
“Of course, you can sleep,” Angelo whispered, though the words felt like shards of glass in his throat.
He watched as Rainan’s eyelids fluttered closed, the faintest smile curling on his lips. It was the most peaceful expression Angelo had seen in days, as though Rainan had made peace with the inevitable.
The quiet was deafening. The only sounds now were the crackling of the fire behind them, the lapping of the waves at the shore, and the shallow, steady rhythm of Rainan’s breathing. Angelo didn’t move. He didn’t dare.
Minutes passed, then hours. His hand remained clasped with Rainan’s, holding on as the world around them grew colder, as the night stretched on.
And then, at last, the moment came—quietly, like the tide slipping away without notice. The rhythmic rise and fall of Rainan’s chest stilled, the gentle warmth of his hand faded, and Angelo knew, with every fiber of his being, that Rainan had let go.
He didn’t cry—not immediately. The tears came later, when he whispered Rainan’s name, when he whispered goodbye.
But for now, he stayed by his side, the stillness of the night wrapping around him as the ocean whispered its eternal song. The others slowly gathered around, each one feeling the emptiness, each one understanding, but no one speaking.
Because they all knew.
This was the last sunset.
And it was enough.