The bell rang, soft and distant, its sound swallowed by the endless blue of the sky. The school courtyard stretched out beneath a golden afternoon sun, and students flowed like rivers, spilling into the open space, their laughter and voices filling the air with life.
But for Ocean, it was all background noise. His eyes weren't on the bright day or the cheerful faces. Instead, they were fixed on the worn edge of his notebook, where the paper curled just slightly at the corner. Promises — he had written the word in the margin during his last class. A word that haunted him. The ink was still wet, and as his finger traced the letters, he could feel the weight of it, like a tether pulling him under. Promises were chains, forged by hope and shattered by reality. He had learned that long ago, the way a wave learns to crash against the shore and break.
The sky above was a brilliant, boundless canvas of light, but inside him, it was cloudy, the kind of gray that comes just before a storm. He closed the notebook gently, standing up from his secluded spot under the large oak tree at the edge of the courtyard. The world continued to move around him, yet he remained still, as if he were caught between two currents. Ocean slipped his headphones over his ears, a soft hum of music filling the space around him. It was easier this way—easier to drown everything out. Easier to drift through the day like a quiet tide, unnoticed, unseen.
And then, just as he took a step towards the exit, he appeared—like the sun breaking through a clouded sky.
Skyler.
Ocean didn't need to look directly at him to feel the shift in the air, the warmth that followed wherever Skyler went. Even through the hum of music, he could hear Skyler's laughter—soft, unassuming, the kind that settled in your chest like the comfort of an old memory. Ocean glanced up, and there he was, standing in the middle of a group of friends, his eyes bright, his smile wide. There was something about him that was impossible to ignore, like the sky itself, stretching endlessly above you, refusing to be forgotten.
Skyler was the type of person who carried light with him. It radiated from him in everything he did, in every word he spoke. He was always there, like the horizon—always in view but just out of reach. And for someone like Ocean, who had spent so much of his life sinking beneath the weight of broken promises, Skyler was a paradox, a puzzle he didn't want to solve. Because Skyler believed in things that Ocean had long since given up on—things like trust and love, and especially promises.
Ocean shifted his gaze away, tugging his hoodie tighter around him as if it could shield him from the warmth of Skyler's presence. He didn't need that kind of light. It was dangerous, too close to the promises he couldn't afford to believe in anymore. His feet moved quickly, heading towards the exit, away from the groups of friends and the laughter that felt so foreign to him.
But fate, it seemed, wasn't done with him yet.
"Hey, wait up!" a voice called out, warm and full of life.
Ocean's breath caught for just a moment before he turned. Skyler was standing there, a little out of breath, but still wearing that same easy smile, the one that made the world seem a little less heavy. His sandy hair caught the afternoon sun, casting a soft glow around him, and his blue eyes—clear as the sky—locked onto Ocean's for just a second too long. It was like being pulled into the open air, exposed to a brightness he wasn't ready for.
"I thought you might want this," Skyler said, holding out a book. Ocean blinked, realizing it was his own—the notebook he had been writing in earlier, the one he had left behind under the tree.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world around them seemed to fade, as if the sounds of the courtyard had melted into the background, leaving only the two of them standing at the edge of something they couldn't yet name.
Ocean hesitated, his hand hovering over the notebook. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice barely more than a whisper. He took the book, his fingers brushing against Skyler's for the briefest of moments. It felt like a spark, small but undeniable, as if the sky had reached down to meet the ocean in that single touch.
Skyler smiled again, his eyes searching Ocean's face with a kind of curiosity, as if he saw something there that no one else did. "No problem," he said, his voice soft but steady. "I see you sitting alone a lot. Maybe next time, you can sit with me."
Ocean's heart stilled for a moment, a flood of emotions crashing against the walls he had so carefully built. He swallowed hard, pulling the notebook close to his chest as if it could protect him from whatever this was. "I... don't do promises," he replied, his voice sharper than he intended. His words lingered in the air, heavy and unresolved.
Skyler tilted his head, his smile never wavering, though something softened in his gaze. "That's okay," he said, his voice gentle. "I don't make them lightly."
Ocean met his gaze, and for the first time, he didn't look away. Skyler's eyes were like the sky—wide, open, and full of something Ocean hadn't felt in a long time. Hope.
TBC. 🩵
