Timeless |

18. July 12th, 1940

  Just to Clarify: Beaumont hates going fishing, he doesn't find any satisfaction when he caught the fish in the end. He was always made to throw it back in by his mother and Angela when they would come along years ago. Time has past, so going fishing with his dad was on a rare occasion but he enjoyed it for the most part.

He doesn't admit it much but he does appreciate so much to what his father does and continue to do for him. He sees the little things his father does that not many would look too much into such as making mini notes for his son every time he leaves the house. It's whether saying have a nice day, a silly dad joke or positive reminder.

He would always make a pack lunch for Beaumont whenever he's working long hours or going on day trips. He would make sure that Beaumonts bed is ready for him at night with his water and medication in order. But most of all, he listens, he's very empathetic and responsive to your Beaumonts needs.

Johnathan is really supportive in him and to anyone as if they feel sad or angry and he doesn't make you feel you need to stop from experiencing these emotions. Listening is a number one factor of any relationship with anyone and to Beau-mont, he would cherish that forever.

"Are you excited to go fishing?" Johnathan asked, his son from the drivers seat while Beaumont shoves his half eaten sandwich back into his lunch bag.

"I don't know," Beaumont replied, "Are people excited to be led to the electric chair?"

His father snorted, shaking his head. "You're being dramatic." Johnathan responded, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel to the beat of the song on the radio.

Beaumont reaches into his bag for for some crisps, while shrugging. "Maybe, I am. Maybe, I'm not."

"You used to love fishing." Johnathan reminded him, turning into the docks.

"I used to pretend to love fishing because I was afraid that if I didn't go, mum and Angela would both find a way to fall into the river and drown." Beaumont stated, earning a soft slap in the stomach from his father in retaliation with a loud laugh.

"Well, i won't be falling in anytime soon. So, you don't have to pretend that you don't actually enjoy it when really you do." His dad stated, smiling towards his son as he pulled into a parking space near the docks.

"I'll believe it when I see it." Beaumont mumbled, stepping out of the truck with his bag on his shoulder. He slams the truck door close and walks to the back of the truck to grab their fishing rods and the cooler box.

His father clamps a hand on his sons shoulder and gives him a teasing shove to push him towards the docks. Johnathan whistles under-neath his breath while dragging a complaining Beaumont towards the dock. Beaumont kicks a pebble away from his feet and sets down the cooler box beside the chairs his father is building up.

Beaumont took a seat after handing his dad his fishing rod, he lets out a sigh, looking out towards the scenery. The high sunlit clouds drifted across a clear blue sky. It was the kind of sky born of bluest petals, as if it were once a great expanse of nothing until the flowers melted upward.

He felt a shiver crawl down his back as if fighting off pin and needles. The air was so crisp and was filled with the smell of salty water and remini-scent of earthy musty stale rotting wood. Beau-mont watches as waves crash in some places, the tide ebbs softly and gently in others.

The dull blue waves ferociously slammed against the rocks, brutally and merciless. His mind playing back to an old memory of the time his mother was alive. He remembers her singing softly under her breath while he plaited Angelas hair. He always felt so at home when his mother was around.