Throughout your life as a gunslinger, you've seen some interesting things. Weird weapons, weird techniques, the whole sha-bang. However, you have a feeling that fighter jet might just take everything else out of the park.

"I told you a million times already Tim, haven't you heard the saying? 'Sticks and stones may break my bones but an A10's gatling cannon will vaporize me?' You need to learn to adapt with the times, man!"

"And I said that I don't need to spend $400,000 to fire my weapons for twelve seconds, Fred! You still owe me half a million for when you decided to light up that poor rabbit for 'shits and giggles!' They're dead either way, I just prefer to not go into debt!"

"They're dead either way my ass! Last time you brought home a kill it ate the salad while we were saying grace!"

"At least I bring something home! Every time you go hunting, half of it is missing and the other half is filled with lead!"

"Oh you wanna go?"

"Oh yeah, I wanna go. Me and you. Backyard. Now."

"You're on, you dumb little shit."

"You're going to regr-"

And timmy fucking died.

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I HAVE WANTED TO USE THAT LINE FOREVER LMAO

Disclaimer: I suck at romance writing. It might suck and you will cringe. Also, I changed the prompt a bit. Sorry.

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Being immortal gets really boring after a while. When you lived for a couple thousand years, time really starts becoming a blur, and relationships form and break apart at the blink of an eye. I stopped bothering. To many people, I'm just that hot dude on the beach. So many of them tried to ask me out, I declined. Even more tried to get me to stay with them for just a single night. I refused. Every time, I repeated the same phrase in my head. Don't get attached. Don't get what you aren't prepared to lose. Every day, I see the hurt in their faces and I feel sorry. But then I move on. To a different beach, a different country, a different continent.

I have a soft spot for beaches. It calms me. The gentle waves, the frothing sea foam- there's something about it that just feels serene, even if a couple thousand humans are stomping about trying to scream at the top of their lungs. The food is awesome, too. If there's one perk of being immortal, it's that you get pretty rich when you do stuff for a couple hundred years, and overpriced seafood does taste pretty good when you know that you can buy a thousand of these and it wouldn't make a dent on your bank account. If I notice that I only have hundreds of millions of dollars left instead of billions, I can just sell some old cups that I didn't bother to wash a millennia ago and get enough money to buy the whole damn restaurant a hundred times over. And buy property, I did. Beach houses are a great place to live if you're rich, just pretend to die every fifty years and pass it down to myself again.

One particular night, I was chilling in this beautiful place in Florida. Hurricanes are a pain in the ass, but houses can always be rebuilt, especially when you can afford to rebuild it with all the gold and jewels in the world(I didn't, of course. I'm immortal, not an idiot). I walked down to the beach, feeling the gentle waves beating against the sand. I sighed.

"You alright?" Said a deep voice. I jumped. Next to me was a man I can only describe as God's gift to the world. He looked perfect. His tan matched perfectly with his yellow tee, the moon casting a warm glow around his face. His hair was wet in the cutest way, and I resisted the urge to ruffle it. "Something on your mind?"

Don't get attached. I smiled at him. "Not really. How could there be, here at this beautiful beach?" I stared at him, my eyes saying, "leave me alone."

He laughed, a rich, deep laugh. "Come on, spill it. I know something's on your mind." He seemed to not notice me glaring at him.

Don't get attached. "Do I know you?"

"My name is Brad. Come on, I know something is bothering you," he insisted. "Maybe talking to someone about it might help."

Under other circumstances I, and every other mortal with basic common sense, would run away screaming with fear from this creepily friendly extrovert. But there was something in his eyes that cracked, just a little, what should have hardened inside me long ago.

We talked. I talked about my situation, heavily censored so he wouldn't find out about my curse. He listened. He nodded, and he seemed to understand me, somehow feel my pain. I spilt out everything. My regrets, my sorrows, my past tragedies. He listened. My brain, tired from the strain of centuries of stress and suppression, could no longer stop me. I learned that Brad was visiting this beach for a week with his friends, and a week that he spent with me, listening to my tales. On the last night, I went over to his place. It was a blur, and afterwards I was ashamed that I have broken my oath. I can't get attached to him. That night, I snuck out. Before dawn came I was at the airport, booking the next flight to Hawaii.

That was fifty years ago. I spent those fifty years trying to forget about him, trying to wipe him from my memory. So why, here in Spain-

"I knew you would be here," said Brad, with his wonderfully deep voice that made my heart jump, all those years later. He smiled, brighter than the sun that shined directly behind him.

"What- how- you-" I could barely get a word out. How?

"You-you should be-"

Brad leaned in close. "You're not the only one. I have it too."

I stared at him in disbelief, speechless.

"Man, why did you just leave back then? I spent so much time and money trying to track you down. Then again, I have plenty of both." His smile widened.

Yup, it's definitely Brad, still being able to pull off stuff that would get any other person arrested.

He studied my face. "Ah, I should've known that this would be shocking for you. Sor-"

I hugged him. I don't know what came over me. Maybe it's the thought of not being alone anymore. Maybe it's because I can finally say that I love someone. Maybe it's because the man that I was yearning for all these years is still here. I hugged him with all my strength, expelling my doubts, my fears, my sadness that I hid behind my mask.

He hugged back, squeezing me in a way that reminded me of a dad hugging his child after a rough day, comforting and warm. He patted my back.

"So, do you want to get a drink together? Maybe head back to my place?" He asked hesitantly.

"You got food?" I asked, smiling.

"Yup."

"Then why is that even a question? Let's go."

edit: thanks for the comments guys, i currently have the stupidest grin on my face