He was a punk - He wrote poetry

The Boy On The Shore

He was there again. Like he had been every evening for the past two weeks.

The boy on the shore. That's what Finn called him, at least.

He didn't know the boy's actual name but up until now he didn't have the guts to ask either. Not that he was scared of the kid. The boy on the shore didn't seem like the racket type, he wasn't even extraordinarily tall or buff. Nothing to be scared of, really.

Still he had an aura to him.. Finn couldn't think of a way to start a normal conversation with the guy.

So... he'd just been watching. Which, said out loud, sounded way creepier than it was.

Every evening, when the sun began to set, the boy would come to the skate park Finn spent his afternoons at, and then he'd stare at the sea until darkness fell. After that, he'd go back to where he came from. Like a shadow that vanished with the fleeting light.

Finn called him 'the boy on the shore' simply because he didn't have a better name for him yet.

The skate park had been built about twenty years ago, on a hill with perfect view on the shore and sea beneath it. After being abandoned for the majority of those twenty years Finn and some friends had rediscovered the park five years ago and made it accessible again.

And even though their friendship didn't last, the skate park did. Finn came here nearly every day and now, so did the boy.

The boy never did anything other than to stand.. and to watch.

He did the same today.

Finn sat next to one of the ramps, and watched as the boy walked down the street and took the small turn leading to the park.

He wore a long black coat, like he did every day. The short black hair was slicked back, only a few tiny strands falling over his forehead. It made him look a lot older than he probably was.

He was pretty, Finn would give him that.

Sharp features, tan skin and dark eyes hidden behind crescent shaped glasses.

But there was something off about the kid. Something about the way he carried himself. The way he stood there and just watched the sun go down.

Like a character from a painting he was, the boy on the shore.

Today was no different than any other day those past two weeks. He walked over to the railing, stopped and held his chin high, just as he did every evening.

Routine by now.

Nothing different- no. Today was different.

Finn perked up as he watched the boy make his way to his usual spot.

He's limping...

He frowned. He'd never seen the boy limp before. That was.. interesting. And concerning, if he was being honest.

The boy on the shore had now taken his usual spot at the railing where he leaned over the metal bars and let his hands dangle, his eyes focused on the setting sun.

Finn remained where he was. Sat on the concrete, skateboard in his lap and the hood of his jacket over his head.

Gosh... he must look like a fucking gang member to the kid.

Why's he limping though..

Maybe this was the time to start talking to the boy...

Finn sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

He'd always been way too nosy for his own good. It had lead to a lot of ugly situations and one time even the hospital. He contemplated.

The boy on the shore was no buff bully nightmare, he looked rather average. The chances of him beating the shit out of Finn were rather low.