Down by the Sea, Fall Out Boy. For the wrong_maps challenge.
Title: Down by the Sea
Author: becomingblurred
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Word Count: 1134
Rating: PG
Summary: A simple story of two boys and shorelines.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fall Out Boy. Title taken from the song "Under the Boardwalk" by the Drifters.
Author's Notes: Okay, I waited until midnight because I got a competition tomorrow... anyway, here's the piece for the South Jersey part of the wrong_maps challenge. Please enjoy!
Down by the Sea
By Donna
The beach was covered in a thin layer of shells and seaweed. These gifts from the sea held open invitations to people’s hands and pockets. Three or four seagulls walked along the shoreline, picking at the prizes that didn’t RSVP in time.
Pete and Patrick leaned against the rail along the boardwalk, watching the waves crash and spill along the sand, shells, and seaweed.
“It’s so quiet out here,” Pete noted. “Remember in Baltimore how the buildings sort of looked down on us and everything?”
Patrick took a deep breath, feeling the salt scratch against his lungs. “It’s beautiful.”
“Wanna go on the beach?” Pete asked.
Patrick nodded, looking at the ramp that connected the boardwalk to the sand. “You think anyone will try and steal our shoes if we take them off?”
“Nah, no one’s here to steal them,” Pete said, laughing, “I mean... aside from the ocean.”
Patrick and Pete walked to the ramp, untying their shoes in the process. The balled their socks and put them in their shoes. They walked on tot he sand, feeling it between their toes. Pete rolled up his pants and waltzed through the lines of shells. He bent down, pulling one out of the sand. “Hey, ‘Trick, come here.”
Patrick walked over, leaning against Pete when he got close enough. He wrapped his arms around Pete’s waist.
“Look,” Pete said, raising a perfect scallop shell up to his eyes. He glided his thumb against the smooth underside of the shell, flipping it over to show off the pastel coloration. “Here,” Pete said, passing it over to him, “You know how hard it is to find a perfect shell like this?”
Patrick smiled because he didn’t know, or he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t recall a day that was entirely wasted on a beach, surely it was before his parents separated, possibly with that one guy his mom dated for a long while, only to be dumped when he had to leave for Florida. Patrick continued to study the little seashell, whose fine-like appendages that peeked on the bottom were still in tact. Funny how that boyfriend, whom he swore with is brother and sister they’d never call dad, ran off to a place surrounded by costal waters and shells like this.
Sometimes life was just like that. Funny. Ironic. Bizarre, even. Or maybe just maybe just lucky. He looked at his and Pete’s feet, realizing the amount of shattered seashells along the coastline. He slipped the shell Pete found in his pocket and smiled to himself. Sometimes his bizarre, funny friends were good luck charms in his ironic life.
Pete pointed out into the distance, where a jetty reached out into the water longer than the coast could. “Come on,” he whispered, “Let’s got out there.”
They held hands and danced dangerously close to the hsarp remnants of seashells and other ocean treasures. Pete eagerly jumped onto the jetty, his toes touching the graffiti left by youth with too much time away from home. Patrick took Pete’s hand as he eased himself up, following Pete along the rocks. Pete marching fearlessly- gaps between rocks were just ways for him to jump in modelesque poses, legs long and lean, neck elongated. Patrick attempted to find similar routes, sometimes making it to the next rock faster than Pete had to will himself across the gaps. As they got farther and farther, the water began peeking between the spaces and hit the rocks they stood on. Patrick watched the salt water rub against the scattered initials proclaiming love and he smiled.
Pete stood on a high rock and pointed to the green light at the end of the jetty. “Let’s go! We’re almost there!”
Patrick nodded, breathing a sigh of relief as they landed on the smooth concrete at the end of the jetty. Pete cross his arms, grinning as the sea air lifted locks of his hair and pushed them back. “Well?”
“Well, what?” Patrick asked, removing his hat and bringing it to his side for fear of it flying off.
“Did you have fun getting here?” Pete asked, giving him a childish grin.
“I was afraid you were going to fall a few times,” Patrick admitted.
“Please. Cat-like reflexes, man,” Pete said, raising his fist triumphantly.
They continued to the very end of the jetty, looking into the sea.
Pete sighed this time, lovesick over the scenery. Patrick blinked flash photography in his head. He collogued each rock, gap, and wave that crossed their path to this point and made sure that he could remember each one as long as he lived.
Pete leaned against a concrete t-shaped structure, climbing on it.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “The view doesn’t change.”
“Yes it does, you just aren’t looking at it right.” Pete skidded off the structure and pulled Patrick close. “Just look. There’s nothing to block the view of the ocean. We are surrounded by nothing but atmosphere. It’s beautiful. We never do this. So love it.”
Patrick peeked through Pete’s hair and sleeves and realized yes, they were surrounded, but it was by sea, air, and each other. And it was glorious.
“You want to go back?” Pete asked, taking Patrick’s hand.
Patrick looked up at him and nodded.
The return was a little easier, the mental pictures proving themselves quite convenient. Pete helped Patrick off the rocks and in the process of uncovering their shoes and socks.
“I think I’m going to go into the water for a second,” Patrick said, “My feet are all sandy.”
Pete nodded, wiping sand off his heel and watched him walk to the sea.
Patrick kicked up the water and stayed in it for a moment. It was freezing, but within seconds his feet numbed down. He turned to Pete and waved, Pete waving back. Patrick threw his shoes to the side and continued swirling his toes in the water, watching it ripple and extend as far as the vibrations could allow. He didn’t see Pete come from behind, sweep him off his feet, and dumping him into the water. Patrick screamed as Pete laughed like a terrorizing ten year old. Pete kissed him on the lips, salty lips becoming only saltier as a wave hit them.
“You asshole!” Patrick gasped as he took a breath. He nuzzled Pete, laughing. He looked around and realized his hat had floated into the water. He reached out, but Pete pulled his hand back against his chest. “It’s okay,” Pete whispered into his ear. “I’m the only one watching.”
Patrick sighed, pressing his back against Pete. “We need to get out of these clothes.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Pete said, pulling Patrick up and ruffling his hair. “Let’s go... to the Driftwood Motel!”
end
--
Note: I took the photo in the beginning =] It's from the jetty at Point Pleasant Beach, which was the key inspiration for this.
Author: becomingblurred
Pairing: Pete/Patrick
Word Count: 1134
Rating: PG
Summary: A simple story of two boys and shorelines.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fall Out Boy. Title taken from the song "Under the Boardwalk" by the Drifters.
Author's Notes: Okay, I waited until midnight because I got a competition tomorrow... anyway, here's the piece for the South Jersey part of the wrong_maps challenge. Please enjoy!
Down by the Sea
By Donna
The beach was covered in a thin layer of shells and seaweed. These gifts from the sea held open invitations to people’s hands and pockets. Three or four seagulls walked along the shoreline, picking at the prizes that didn’t RSVP in time.
Pete and Patrick leaned against the rail along the boardwalk, watching the waves crash and spill along the sand, shells, and seaweed.
“It’s so quiet out here,” Pete noted. “Remember in Baltimore how the buildings sort of looked down on us and everything?”
Patrick took a deep breath, feeling the salt scratch against his lungs. “It’s beautiful.”
“Wanna go on the beach?” Pete asked.
Patrick nodded, looking at the ramp that connected the boardwalk to the sand. “You think anyone will try and steal our shoes if we take them off?”
“Nah, no one’s here to steal them,” Pete said, laughing, “I mean... aside from the ocean.”
Patrick and Pete walked to the ramp, untying their shoes in the process. The balled their socks and put them in their shoes. They walked on tot he sand, feeling it between their toes. Pete rolled up his pants and waltzed through the lines of shells. He bent down, pulling one out of the sand. “Hey, ‘Trick, come here.”
Patrick walked over, leaning against Pete when he got close enough. He wrapped his arms around Pete’s waist.
“Look,” Pete said, raising a perfect scallop shell up to his eyes. He glided his thumb against the smooth underside of the shell, flipping it over to show off the pastel coloration. “Here,” Pete said, passing it over to him, “You know how hard it is to find a perfect shell like this?”
Patrick smiled because he didn’t know, or he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t recall a day that was entirely wasted on a beach, surely it was before his parents separated, possibly with that one guy his mom dated for a long while, only to be dumped when he had to leave for Florida. Patrick continued to study the little seashell, whose fine-like appendages that peeked on the bottom were still in tact. Funny how that boyfriend, whom he swore with is brother and sister they’d never call dad, ran off to a place surrounded by costal waters and shells like this.
Sometimes life was just like that. Funny. Ironic. Bizarre, even. Or maybe just maybe just lucky. He looked at his and Pete’s feet, realizing the amount of shattered seashells along the coastline. He slipped the shell Pete found in his pocket and smiled to himself. Sometimes his bizarre, funny friends were good luck charms in his ironic life.
Pete pointed out into the distance, where a jetty reached out into the water longer than the coast could. “Come on,” he whispered, “Let’s got out there.”
They held hands and danced dangerously close to the hsarp remnants of seashells and other ocean treasures. Pete eagerly jumped onto the jetty, his toes touching the graffiti left by youth with too much time away from home. Patrick took Pete’s hand as he eased himself up, following Pete along the rocks. Pete marching fearlessly- gaps between rocks were just ways for him to jump in modelesque poses, legs long and lean, neck elongated. Patrick attempted to find similar routes, sometimes making it to the next rock faster than Pete had to will himself across the gaps. As they got farther and farther, the water began peeking between the spaces and hit the rocks they stood on. Patrick watched the salt water rub against the scattered initials proclaiming love and he smiled.
Pete stood on a high rock and pointed to the green light at the end of the jetty. “Let’s go! We’re almost there!”
Patrick nodded, breathing a sigh of relief as they landed on the smooth concrete at the end of the jetty. Pete cross his arms, grinning as the sea air lifted locks of his hair and pushed them back. “Well?”
“Well, what?” Patrick asked, removing his hat and bringing it to his side for fear of it flying off.
“Did you have fun getting here?” Pete asked, giving him a childish grin.
“I was afraid you were going to fall a few times,” Patrick admitted.
“Please. Cat-like reflexes, man,” Pete said, raising his fist triumphantly.
They continued to the very end of the jetty, looking into the sea.
Pete sighed this time, lovesick over the scenery. Patrick blinked flash photography in his head. He collogued each rock, gap, and wave that crossed their path to this point and made sure that he could remember each one as long as he lived.
Pete leaned against a concrete t-shaped structure, climbing on it.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “The view doesn’t change.”
“Yes it does, you just aren’t looking at it right.” Pete skidded off the structure and pulled Patrick close. “Just look. There’s nothing to block the view of the ocean. We are surrounded by nothing but atmosphere. It’s beautiful. We never do this. So love it.”
Patrick peeked through Pete’s hair and sleeves and realized yes, they were surrounded, but it was by sea, air, and each other. And it was glorious.
“You want to go back?” Pete asked, taking Patrick’s hand.
Patrick looked up at him and nodded.
The return was a little easier, the mental pictures proving themselves quite convenient. Pete helped Patrick off the rocks and in the process of uncovering their shoes and socks.
“I think I’m going to go into the water for a second,” Patrick said, “My feet are all sandy.”
Pete nodded, wiping sand off his heel and watched him walk to the sea.
Patrick kicked up the water and stayed in it for a moment. It was freezing, but within seconds his feet numbed down. He turned to Pete and waved, Pete waving back. Patrick threw his shoes to the side and continued swirling his toes in the water, watching it ripple and extend as far as the vibrations could allow. He didn’t see Pete come from behind, sweep him off his feet, and dumping him into the water. Patrick screamed as Pete laughed like a terrorizing ten year old. Pete kissed him on the lips, salty lips becoming only saltier as a wave hit them.
“You asshole!” Patrick gasped as he took a breath. He nuzzled Pete, laughing. He looked around and realized his hat had floated into the water. He reached out, but Pete pulled his hand back against his chest. “It’s okay,” Pete whispered into his ear. “I’m the only one watching.”
Patrick sighed, pressing his back against Pete. “We need to get out of these clothes.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Pete said, pulling Patrick up and ruffling his hair. “Let’s go... to the Driftwood Motel!”
end
--
Note: I took the photo in the beginning =] It's from the jetty at Point Pleasant Beach, which was the key inspiration for this.