Shaking The Ocean's Spell [Bryan] {Blitz}

People walked past him, (some staring at him while others ignored him,) but no one caused him reason to acknowledge them. He was too busy gazing at the death trap that people called the ocean, (puzzling over how he had managed to become so attracted to it that he constantly came to the beach while still being so fearful of it that he wouldn't even let himself anywhere near it.) His brain was conspiring against him, (it seemed,) sending him mixed messages that he might never sort out. The wind blew in the smell of the ocean, salty and fishy but still relatively clean, and he realized that he was beginning to like the smell. At the very least he didn't hate it anymore.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see a boy walking towards him, and he took in the boy's figure as he pretended to look forward. (He didn't look like someone who would make fun of him, but then again few bullies looked like bullies.) There seemed to be a nervousness about him that made Brant wonder why he was feeling shy. (Was it just that, shyness, or was he being scared off by something?) Perhaps it was the way he was holding his jaw, clenched in the gloom of being picked on, or maybe Brant just looked like he was miserable. Either thing was possible. Slowly the boy came over to him, still showing signs of discomfort at being there.

Brant hadn't realized the boy was wet until drops of water his the sand at his feet, it was then he noticed that the boy was soaked. He must have just gone swimming, (which meant that there was all the likelihood that Brant was about to be made fun of for not liking water.) "Hey! I'm Jerome. You are?" This boy, Jerome, obviously wasn't as shy as Brant thought. Right now, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He sized him up, wondering if he would be able to punch this kid in the face if he made fun of him and still get away alright. It seemed so, but Brant kept that idea in the back of his mind for now. (He didn't know him, so how would he know what he would be like.) May as well answer his question.

He looked into Jerome's eyes, (nodding to him as he was tempted just to let his gaze slide past and ignore the other boy.) Instead, he forced himself to speak and give his name. "I'm Brant." (He wasn't much for small talk at the moment, so the bare minimum answer was all Jerome would get.) It wasn't as though he was exactly being unfriendly, but if the boy didn't want to put the effort in to talk to him then he would just wander away eventually.

The boy looked at him like he wanted to hear more than what Brant had said, (but right now it was tough luck for him.) Unless there was a good reason that he should actually speak there wasn't going to be much more than two syllables leaving his mouth for the moment. Brant watched as Jerome dried himself off, his eyes tracing the path of the towel as it moved over his arms and then his chest. He had a decent figure, (and Brant let himself acknowledge that,) but there wasn't anything else that drove him to reply. Not yet, anyway. There was an almost audible hesitation in Jerome's voice as he spoke, (and Brant knew that his actions, or lack there of, were starting to make him second guess the interaction.)

Still, he spoke again, trying to weed a real statement out of him or even a question. "Well, nice to meet you Brant. I saw you by yourself so I figured I would come over and talk to you." Brant wondered whether to let himself be lured into a conversation or not, thinking over how either might go. (Surely he didn't want to be rude, but he didn't want to open himself up for jeers and insults.) However, it sounded like Jerome just wanted to talk, maybe he should let him. He just had to make sure his tone wasn't harsh as he said anything, he had decided not to drive him off but a snobby or rude tone most certainly would.

Jerome's laugh was so obviously fake that Brant almost winced, realizing how awkward it must be to try and talk to someone who is doing their best to shut you out and mope. (Only he wasn't moping, was he?) Perhaps he was, but everyone did at some point. It was only because here the endless water reminded him that he would never fit in with the people in his District. (He would always be the odd one out because of his fear of water, no matter how close he came to getting drawn in.) He noticed then that Jerome's gaze had shifted from him, and onto the water he was just thinking about. Time was running out to give an answer, so he better buck up and pull one together soon or he might lose his chance to talk to someone.

He would never know what kind of person Jerome was until he let him talk, he might even make a new friend and those were always nice to have when it seemed like everyone else pushed you around. (Little scaredy-boy Brant might actually have someone to turn to.) "You're alone too, unless someone is looking for you?" He would start off small, (try to find out if it was really safe to extend his friendship or whether he should just draw himself deep into his shell until this boy gave up and walked away.)

He watched Jerome seem to become more lively, (and a little less shy,) seeming to open up as he did. The other boy was once more looking at him and attempting to further the conversation as though letting a moment's silence settle would end it forever. "I wanted to have a day to myself today. As you can see, I'm not very good at being alone." He laughed at his own joke, and Brant managed a smile. (It wasn't funny per say, but it wasn't some horrible pun or anything.) If Brant knew him better it might have held more humor for him. Instead it just amused him slightly and made him continue his thought that maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

As though Jerome realized that Brant was now willing to talk, he lay himself down on the sand with his towel underneath his right shoulder. About to ask why he did what while the rest of him lay on just sand, Brant decided the stay quiet. It looked as though he was going to try and tan, (though from his skin it didn't seem like he would get much of a change in colour.) Still, the position was more comfortable that standing, especially now that they were going to talk. (What had he said again, some joke or something?)

"You're not the only one looking for solitude, but it seems like I'm not very good at upholding it either." He shot the boy a small grin that he wasn't sure was seen or not. Trying to be casual, he took in Jerome's form as his eyes slid down the boy's length. (He wasn't going to say anything about that, yet at least, or about his fear of water.) Both of those things had a time and a place and he was sure that it wasn't going to be now.

Maybe he would be lucky and the other boy wouldn't ask why he hadn't gone swimming, (but more than likely the question would come up.) It was probably going to be soon, too, since the fact that Brant was perpetually dry was so obvious to any other person in District four. Why can't someone be different here without being called names and being made fun of. It was as though the thought that someone was different horrified everyone even though they were different from everyone themselves. Sometimes he hated the way people thought.

He could see the other boy's mind working, only then did he realize just how much his words shut the conversation down. Unintentionally, Brant had placed a period in the run-on sentence that was their discourse. He sat silently, watching as the gears turned in Jerome's head. It was somewhat amusing, (sitting there and waiting to see what kind of response would rise from it,) and he found the sight of a frantically searching Jerome made him feel better because he finally wasn't the one looking for an answer. That was, until the other boy spoke his question and the places were reversed.

"So, are you planning on swimming, or fishing?" Internally, Brant winced. (Of course, the topic of water had come up but it was much too soon.) This is what I get for blocking a conversation. He tried not to show any of the feelings that had burst into him at the mention of swimming - (fear, frustration, loneliness) - but how successful he was it was hard to say. The real challenge would be to say the right thing to distract him from the fact that he didn't like water. How Jerome didn't know him already was a surprise, it seemed as though the whole district knew about Brant and his fear of water - at least enough to laugh at him and call him names.

He lifted his eyes to the ocean, sure what he saw there was different from what others saw. It was a nice day, (no clouds and a light breeze that took the edge off the heat,) but when he looked at the water all Brant could see was a turbulent force bent on crushing him beneath its waves before dragging him out to suck him below the surface and never let him go. It was as though he was looking at death, only he was more afraid of the ocean than dying. How could he say no to the question without sparking obvious curiosity that would mark him to yet another person as someone who didn't belong.

Slowly, his eyes slid back to Jerome. Tentatively, he tried to smile in hopes that maybe it would make things easier to say. (It didn't but at least he looked more friendly now, right before he was about to look like a coward.) "No, I just came here to watch." He wasn't going to explain any more than that, anything else he might want to say would give away too much and already he felt like he had laid himself bare. Hoping to keep a pleading look out of his eyes he wished silently that Jerome would leave it at that. But they never do.