Ocean Eyes || Freminet

2

I remember the day I first spoke to him, my curiosity sparked by the unusual sight of the freckled boy standing awkwardly at the edge of the stall, his eyes scanning the array of fruits.

His older brother had sent him, he explained in a voice barely above a whisper. He was looking for some fruit, but seemed unsure of what to get. I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. His discomfort was evident, and he didn't seem used to talking to strangers.

"Do you need any help?" I asked gently, hoping not to startle him. He nodded slightly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

"Sure," I flashed him the seller smile my aunt had taught me, stepping forward and gesturing towards the array of fruits. "We have some sweet peaches that just came in this morning, or perhaps your brother would prefer some crisp apples? They're perfect for a hot summer day."

He looked at me, his gray-blue eyes wide and thoughtful. I instantly thought of the ocean, the way the water reflects the color of the sky. I remember feeling a pang of jealousy at the way his eyes held the depth and calmness that I longed to possess.

After a moment, he pointed towards the peaches, his hand shaking slightly. "Peaches," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of the chattering townsfolk.

I smiled, reaching for the ripest peaches, their sweet scent filling the air. I knew I would get an earful from my aunt later. She always insisted on selling the older fruits first, but something about his ocean eyes made me want to offer him the best we had.

Carefully, I wrapped the peaches in a cloth, and handed them to him. Our fingers brushed briefly. A jolt of surprise passed through me, but he seemed too focused on his task to notice.

I watched as his hands trembled slightly as he fumbled for his coin purse. His movements were hesitant, almost shy, as if he was not used to this simple exchange. He thanked me in a soft whisper before turning to leave, disappearing into the crowd as quietly as he had arrived.

I don't know what possessed me to call out after him. 

"Ocean-eyed boy!" I yelled out, surprising even myself. My voice echoed through the market square, causing a few heads to turn in curiosity.

The boy, startled by my sudden outburst, dropped his coin purse. Bright yellow coins scattered on the cobblestone path, glinting in the sunlight. He looked back at me, his ocean-blue eyes wide with surprise.

Ignoring the scolding of my aunt from behind, I dashed after him, my heart pounding in my chest. In my haste, I fumbled to take the penguin out of my apron pocket, the figurine slipping between my fingers a few times before I managed to clutch it tightly in my hand.

"Wait!" I called out, my voice softer this time. 

He had bent down, picking up the scattered coins from his dropped purse. His movements were quick, yet there was a certain gentleness to them, like the way a wave caresses the shore.

"Wait!" I repeated, finally catching up to him. He straightened up, turning to face me. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

"Your hat..." I said softly, the words leaving my lips before I had time to think. 

His eyebrows knitted together, confusion spreading across his features.

I reached up and pointed to his hat, a navy-blue circular cap that covered his pale hair. I'd never seen a hat like his, and there was a certain worn quality to it, as if it had been carried over from the sea and weathered by the wind and rain. 

"Your hat..." I repeated, pulling out the small mechanical penguin from my pocket. I held it up for him to see, pointing to the tiny replica of his hat on the figurine's head. "It's the same as yours."

His eyes widened as he looked from the figurine to his own hat, as if a slow realization was dawning on him. He reached out tentatively to touch it, and a soft smile spread across his face, the first I'd seen from him.

"Yes," he murmured, his cheeks flushing a light pink. "Thank you... for returning it."

I handed him the small penguin, watching as his hands ran over its metal surface, almost reverently. He turned his gaze back to me, his eyes sparkling with the reflection of the morning sun.

I smiled. "You're welcome, Ocean-eyed boy."

The nickname seemed to fit him.

I wondered then what he was like, where he came from, and if we could ever become friends. And so I began to watch him, noticing his habits and patterns. 

I learned that he was always the first one in the water in the morning and the last one out at night. He spent his days diving and exploring the underwater world, always returning to the surface with a new treasure to add to his collection.

No matter how early I woke, he was always one step ahead. By the time I'd reached the sandy shore, he would already be making his way towards the water's edge. I'd call out to him, my voice barely carrying itself against the sound of the crashing waves. At times, I was sure he heard me, but he never turned back, only quickening his pace before diving into the ocean with a soft splash.

The sight of him disappearing beneath the waves stirred a strange longing within me, one I didn't understand. I yearned to follow him, to explore the underwater world that he so loved. But each time I tried to step forward, my heart would pound in my chest, and the memory would cloud my judgement, holding me back. 

The ocean, with its vast, unpredictable expanse, terrified me.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of orange and purple, I'd find myself still waiting at the beach, hoping to catch him before he left. But he was like a ghost, always slipping away unnoticed. And every time, just as the last traces of daylight faded, my aunt would find me. With a stern look and a gentle tug on my arm, she'd lead me away from the sand, back to the safety of our home.

In this quiet coastal town that we called home, he was the ocean-eyed boy who danced with the waves, and I was the girl who watched from the shore.