𝓜𝓲𝓵𝓴𝓮𝔂

When Water Meets Flame Milkey never expected him. The new boy dove in like thunder—bold, fast, all edges where Milkey was flow. He swam like he was chasing something, while Milkey swam like he was letting go. They shared lanes in silence at first, just glances between breaths, feet brushing under the surface like whispered confessions. One night, after practice, the boy offered Milkey his towel. Their fingers touched—wet, trembling, real. Milkey looked up, and for the first time, his heart beat louder than the splash of water. He thought, “Maybe this time, I won’t have to swim alone.”