under the boardwalk // people walking above || closed log;
Hadn't he stepped to this tune already? He's off-meter and the beat is running thin. Not that he had ever been much for music. Adam could appreciate a tune, and even decently carry one, but he'd never been one to see things through. He had foolishly thought things could be different with Peter. Things were always different with Peter.
He confides in the only thing he knows; more accurately, the only thing that knows him: the ocean. Its endless and unchanging face studies his own, and he knows he's been made.
"Peter." His voice doesn't sound like his own, and he doesn't turn - he can't. There's nowhere left to run.
He confides in the only thing he knows; more accurately, the only thing that knows him: the ocean. Its endless and unchanging face studies his own, and he knows he's been made.
"Peter." His voice doesn't sound like his own, and he doesn't turn - he can't. There's nowhere left to run.