Before finally heading for the beach, the couple returned to their hotel, in order to change into their swimsuits. Thus prepared, they finally arrived by the shore, where a cool breeze was blowing and the waves crashed loudly, but rhythmically against the wet sand. Dorian had overcome his fear of monsters and angler fish. He bit his lip and turned to Basil. "Could I perhaps ask you to hold this for me?" he asked, handing the painter his towel and hat. They shared a smile. Their cheeks were reddened, perhaps from the sun that was beating down mercilessly onto them, but more likely because of that intimate glance they had shared. Another moment passed in silence, the two men lost in each other's eyes.
"Thank you." Said Dorian cheerfully, saluted and ran towards the sea with boyish excitement and loud laughter. He did not seem to care at all for the tuts and angry gazes he received. While Gray explored the beach and collected shells, Basil laid out their towels and strolled along the beach in his own time. His urge to paint had subsided. He simply wished to listen to the waves and birds around him. He wanted to soak in the strangely soothing smell of the sea that always calmed the nerves. When he returned to his towel, Dorian was sitting there, soaked to the chest, wearing his straw boater and arranging shells. Somehow, he had managed to get hold of a large parasol, which now offered shade to both their towels. The painter was strangely touched by the little gesture of affection. In a way, Dorian shared certain similarities to a cat- he could be moody and arrogant, or simply thoughtless at times. He always knew how to demand the attention he wanted and decline it when he needed none. Then, often without a warning, he would be the best, kindest, young man the world had ever brought forward. Then, he would take Basil out for dinner, to the theatre, or to the bedroom. The latter was a place where they seldom disagreed.
Basil sat down and, after a while of watching his lover regard the shells he had collected with the curiosity of a scientist, brought forward his pencils and sketchbook. The seaside, seemed to make him even more boyish than he was naturally. Upon seeing Basil draw, he said "I am tired of being drawn. If you must have another image of me, you must draw me like this." And stuck out his tongue. Against his expectations however, the artist only smirked and continued to sketch. After a few minutes (Dorian had stowed away his tongue where it belonged) Hallward wordlessly handed him the book with the drawing. What he saw there, made the boy laugh loudly. He had really drawn him with his eyes closed and his tongue sticking out. Oh how Dorian wished he could kiss him right then and there. Boring old Basil, had managed to break his own rules and portray him as he really was- no flattery, no poses or suits. For the first time since they knew each other, Dorian saw himself in one of his images.
"I want to keep it, Basil. Please."
"Whatever for?"
"As a reminder of this wonderful day."
"Well, of course, of course, but have you not these shells and stones as reminders?"
"I do, but the picture is so different from your usual way of drawing me. It is so very much like me. Can offer one of my most beautiful shells for it."
With a playful sigh, Hallward removed the page from his sketchbook and gave it to his companion. Dorian insisted on giving him a shell in return. It really was one of the most beautiful ones he had ever seen. It was shaped like a cone and adorned with many ornaments and details on the outside, but the inside shone like mother of pearl. They shared another brief gaze. An unexecuted kiss lay between them as a reminder how unjust their society was. Why would they not let a man love another? Wasn't it love all the same? They sighed in unison, then chuckled. It would have to serve as one of those little secrets that made life so romantically mysterious.