10 years old

“Wasn’t that yours?”

The blonde boy looked at the other boy that was talking to him. He didn’t seem to be surprised, more like he was caught doing something that he wasn’t supposed to do. He leaned against the stone wall that separated the beach resort from the beach itself, his bare feet in the warm sand.

Anthony was pretty sure that the plastic sword, that another kid was now playing with, belonged to the other boy. He knew for sure because he had watched him (and his siblings) play with it and when Anthony asked his mum if he could have a sword, she told him no. So he watched with envy how this blonde kid trailed behind his older siblings who had lost interest in playing him pretty fast.

“I gave it away,” the blonde confessed with a guilty sigh.

His eyes widened. “You what?” Anthony asked dumbfounded.

“He didn’t seem to have any toys and he was looking at it the whole time. I don’t even really like swords,” the boy exclaimed. “So I just said, ‘here you go, a sword, don’t thank me’ and gave it away.”

Anthony snorted. That was probably the nicest thing he had ever heard. Considering that he was only ten years old and tended to forget most things right after they happened, the nicest thing he had ever heard could be something else entirely tomorrow. He liked the other boy instantly because of it.

“I’m Anthony, by the way,” he introduced himself with the confidence only a ten-year-old kid could have.

“Aziraphale.”

“Assira-what?” Anthony drawled the ‘s’ sound because of the slight speech impediment he had.

The boy groaned. “Aziraphale. My parents had the brilliant idea to name us after angels. Wouldn’t recommend it.”

The boys got interrupted by a teenager that Anthony recognized as one of Aziraphale’s siblings. He seemed to be the oldest of the bunch and had an air of smugness and overconfidence. The teenager glanced quickly over Anthony and turned to look at his younger brother. Aziraphale stared back with a look of adoration for his older brother.

“Mum wants to know where your sword is.”

Anthony smirked, leaned back against the stone wall and crossed his arms in front of his body. Aziraphale squirmed a bit at this question and Anthony wondered if he would tell his brother the same story as he told him.

“I’ve eh, put it down somewhere… I can- eh, can go and grab it,” he spluttered.

Luckily for him, a younger girl joined them and Aziraphale could stop his little act. His brother didn’t seem interested in his answer anyway. The girl seemed a little bit more cheerful and smiled slightly at the boys. She had a ponytail full of dark golden curls and had somewhat of a family resemblance to Aziraphale.

“Who’s your friend, Aziraphale?” she asked while looking at Anthony.

Aziraphale positively beamed at her. “Oh, this is Anthony! Anthony, this is my brother Gabriel and my sister Michael.”

“Alright, whatever. It’s lunchtime, come on,” Gabriel drawled bored and walked away.