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Description
     With the sun low in the sky, the wind blew feebly through the tangle of trees and disturbed the sand that lay quietly resting in all directions down the beach. The breeze ruffled the hair of the young man who drifted between the tallest of the trees. It was only two o'clock, which meant he couldn't just waltz into the bar without some nosy grandmother smacking him with her purse. Fucking small towns. Richard scoffed silently, slapping away a wilting piece of bark with one of his slender fingers, just a smidge tempted to shove the whole thing over to amuse himself. Can't do a damned thing around here without someone being in my business. He continued on rather than disrespecting the tree's resting place, pausing every now and then to try and make out the initials that were carved into some of the trees. "Where the hell is Marth?" Richard asked aloud, one hand reaching back to smooth his spiky black hair. I thought I fucking asked him to come here by two.
     "I'm here, I'm here," a voice called out, and Richard looked to his left as he heard the trees rustle.
     "Well it's about damn time," he snorted in contempt with a frown as he spotted Marth appearing through the the trees. "Did you forget your purse?"
     "Sorry," Marth said coldly, his icy blue eyes narrowing as he stared at Richard, his tone indicating that he wasn't sorry at all. He stood with his weight on one leg, tilting to the left in quite a girly pose. His skin-hugging black tee was the opposite of Richard's loose white button-down. Marth's demeanor was nothing like that of the other man's; although they shared the same age, 21, the two could not be more different.
     They shared the glares, spending a good thirty seconds just staring each other down before Richard finally broke. "C'mere, Princess," he joked, seizing Marth around the neck with one arm and severely ruining his hair with the other. How in the hell does he keep it so damn smooth? Richard thought, feeling a bit jealous as he thought of his own spiky hair that was styled with gels. Marth, on the other hand, had naturally deep blue hair spouting from the top of his head. It was longer than Richard's, and Marth was very proud of it; this, of course, is what always inspired Richard to mess with it.
     "Hey, hey!" Marth protested, struggling underneath the other man's grip. He was a bit taller than Richard, and although both were not weak, none would dare to challenge Richard's strength. "I just finished combing it," he whined with a grin. He finally broke free, scooting a couple of steps away. "And I told you not to call me that."
     Richard closed his eyes and stuck out his tongue at him. Seizing the opportunity, Marth took a little jump forward and pressed his lips to Richard's, gently sending the dark-haired man's tongue back into his mouth. Richard couldn't help smiling, but he took Marth gently by the shoulders and moved him back. "Later," he promised.

Description
     With the sun low in the sky, the wind blew feebly through the tangle of trees and disturbed the sand that lay quietly resting in all directions down the beach. The breeze ruffled the hair of the young man who drifted between the tallest of the trees. It was only two o'clock, which meant he couldn't just waltz into the bar without some nosy grandmother smacking him with her purse. Fucking small towns. Richard scoffed silently, slapping away a wilting piece of bark with one of his slender fingers, just a smidge tempted to shove the whole thing over to amuse himself. Can't do a damned thing around here without someone being in my business. He continued on rather than disrespecting the tree's resting place, pausing every now and then to try and make out the initials that were carved into some of the trees. "Where the hell is Marth?" Richard asked aloud, one hand reaching back to smooth his spiky black hair. I thought I fucking asked him to come here by two.
     "I'm here, I'm here," a voice called out, and Richard looked to his left as he heard the trees rustle.
     "Well it's about damn time," he snorted in contempt with a frown as he spotted Marth appearing through the the trees. "Did you forget your purse?"
     "Sorry," Marth said coldly, his icy blue eyes narrowing as he stared at Richard, his tone indicating that he wasn't sorry at all. He stood with his weight on one leg, tilting to the left in quite a girly pose. His skin-hugging black tee was the opposite of Richard's loose white button-down. Marth's demeanor was nothing like that of the other man's; although they shared the same age, 21, the two could not be more different.
     They shared the glares, spending a good thirty seconds just staring each other down before Richard finally broke. "C'mere, Princess," he joked, seizing Marth around the neck with one arm and severely ruining his hair with the other. How in the hell does he keep it so damn smooth? Richard thought, feeling a bit jealous as he thought of his own spiky hair that was styled with gels. Marth, on the other hand, had naturally deep blue hair spouting from the top of his head. It was longer than Richard's, and Marth was very proud of it; this, of course, is what always inspired Richard to mess with it.
     "Hey, hey!" Marth protested, struggling underneath the other man's grip. He was a bit taller than Richard, and although both were not weak, none would dare to challenge Richard's strength. "I just finished combing it," he whined with a grin. He finally broke free, scooting a couple of steps away. "And I told you not to call me that."
     Richard closed his eyes and stuck out his tongue at him. Seizing the opportunity, Marth took a little jump forward and pressed his lips to Richard's, gently sending the dark-haired man's tongue back into his mouth. Richard couldn't help smiling, but he took Marth gently by the shoulders and moved him back. "Later," he promised.