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“…It is said: If you wish upon a paper and place it in a glass then throw it in the sea, there is a chance that what you wish will come true…”
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The day was mourning.
A small silhouette stood in the thunderous storm clinging what appeared to be a green glass bottle to their chest. Wafts of blackish brown hair flew wildly in the winds as teardrops from the sky freckled their messy locks. Rapid river water clashed below the boy's feet, reminding him of the riverbank he stood on.
Nature wasn't singing that day.
A set of tanned hands tightened upon the glasses casing. Wimpers' and sniffs left the wafts of hairs as the silhouette slowly bent down. River water continued its harsh march, glaring the boy down with apparent judgment.
The sky was cloudy that day.
Trees loomed over the child, never once sheltering him from the rain. Wind howled in his ears as grass flung around his bare feet. The grip upon the glass tightened to a white knuckle squeeze.
Life was dead that day.
“It’s no sea.” The boy wept, “But please…”
“..you’ve got to work…”
Green glass hit the rapid river's as it was quickly swept away. Salty tears fractured the raging waters surface. The boy never stood.
He just watched them go.
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The night ruled over the lands. Lights flickered out over the dingy camp as voices slowed to a stop. Life itself seemed to freeze in the darkness, all life, except for the creaking cabin door.
A tanned teen, draped with ruly chocolate hair, stumbled from the cabin's soft glow into the dark grip of the night. Black eyes shot from side to side as each movement remained calculated. With a dash the boy disappeared in the thicket.
The walk wasn't long to his destination and yet It was enclosed, unkept and occasionally unpredictable. Such a walk scared the teen. The trek was long and eerie in his lonesome march. At Least the star freckled sky kept him on path.
In clamped hands a single glass bottle laid. The moon reflected off its green tinted skin into the calm grass below. It would have been nice, if cracks of sticks did not leave the boy reeling with each step.
Get it over with! It never worked anyway…
What a pitiful thought though. Yet it was true all the same. Each year the ritual would commence, each year the result would be the same. However, each year, he never once failed to complete the ritual.
This time, he finally had the sea.
Stepping from the leaf draped clearing, black eyes scanned the messy beach. It wasn't much, let alone was it not a good sight, but it was far better then he had before.
It had to work this time.
Bending down and placing a ripped piece of paper upon a stone, the boy took out a pen. He wrote the same thing he always did. He expected the same result he always did. No matter how many times he was proven wrong.
No matter how many times he scorned himself in his childish tradition.
Dotting the paper with eight marks the boy folded the paper in half. Releasing a soft shaking sigh, tanned hands carefully pushed the paper into the glass bottle. The very same hands sealed the wish and clung to the glass.
Standing with a shiver, wrinkled eyebrows pressed. The dazzling moon hung overhead shining a light upon the ever expanded ocean. Waves crashed lazily upon the sand as ripples in the pristine surface danced in moonlight. Wind whispered past the boy as he reeled back.
And threw.
SPLASH!
Waved danced as ripples grew in volume. Shifts of blue and black warped around the small green bottle as it drifted further away. Black reddened eyes never once leaving it.
As it drifted further and further, raindrops fluttered from his eyes. Brown skin shone as salt sailed down, reflecting the moon and stars in such a little way. A way so insignificant, and yet so sinful.
With what one does as their chains, they have only themselves to blame.
CRACK!
Quickly wiping the wet from his eyes and cheek, the boy spun with a shocked speed. Behind him stood a rather round teen of equal age to himself. Blond spiky locks draping over their pear shaped head. Large blue doe eyes scanning with a secret knowledge many never realized they had. A frown that replaced a usually cheerful smile.
Owen stood before the boy as a stranger, and the boy before him as an oddity.
Yet when the blond spoke everything seemed to change.
“I saw you steal a bottle from the kitchen earlier.”
Noah only stared at the other. The blond shifted upon his feat looking bashfully to the moon covered sea. A green glass bottle clung in his hands.
“May I join you?”
The boy's voice was weak, calculated. As if he feared scaring his wished company away. Something that might have happened were it not for the shock the words brought.
May I join you?
Such a simple sentence. Such a normal sentence and yet it was entirely unexpected. The blond didn’t ask for what was happening, they didn’t mock or simply stare. They asked to join. They asked to offer support.
Water shuttered down tanned cheeks.
“Noah?”
The tanned teen blinked before nodding numbly. Black eyes watched as the other teen approached, standing beside them with a worried look.
“I'm making a wish.” The words just came out. Yet, with such an odd sentence, no hostility was shown from the other teen. A simple head tilt was Noah's only indication to continue.
“It is said: If you wish upon a paper and place it in a glass then throw it in the sea, there is a chance that what you wish will come true.”
The blond boy stopped to think before searching his pockets. Noah simply offered him a pen and the other half of the ripped paper. Owen smiled with a nod, seemingly grateful for the tanned teens' generosity.
“What do we wish for?”
The voice was still soft, and yet filled with more life than before.
“Anything.”
Blue eyes turned to black as the smile on the other face grew.
“What did you wish for?”
A lump was swallowed as Noah turned to the calm sea.
“Some people too come back.”
The other boy stood beside him, throwing his own bottle into the sea. Silence drifted upon the duo as they watched their dreams drift further away. Though, instead of the cold that used to settle, a warm grew.
A hand placed itself upon Noah's back. It was never shoved away.
A hug wrapped around Noah's frame. It was never pushed away.
Tears stained white fabric. The other never went away.
The boys stayed and watched the sea.
The trip back to the cabins wasn't long. It was open, charming and simple. For Noah, Owen was no longer a stranger. Instead, in its place, a friend was born.
The night was beautiful.
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Please come back. I don't want to be alone.
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