(no subject)
Tony had found a relatively quite spot on the beach (close enough for the waves to lap at his feet), and hasn't moved since. He considers building a sandcastle, but that reminds him too much of Ron and Di, and how much he misses them. How much he misses his mum. For a second, he imagines he could turn around and find her on a beach towel waving at them, and yelling at Harold for putting sand down John's pants.
He fingers the medal in his pocket, almost scared to look at it when he pulls it out. Every engraving, every smooth surface, every bit of the chain, reminds him more and more of that night with his dad, one he'd worked so hard on trying to forget, or at least come to terms with it. Any and everything that meant he wouldn't have to feel the pain of it anymore. Nothing ever really worked.
He considers chucking it in the ocean, but knows he could never bring himself to do so. There may be no explanation for why it appeared here, but he's not about to throw it away. Instead, he shoves it in the sand, burying all but the chain.
He fingers the medal in his pocket, almost scared to look at it when he pulls it out. Every engraving, every smooth surface, every bit of the chain, reminds him more and more of that night with his dad, one he'd worked so hard on trying to forget, or at least come to terms with it. Any and everything that meant he wouldn't have to feel the pain of it anymore. Nothing ever really worked.
He considers chucking it in the ocean, but knows he could never bring himself to do so. There may be no explanation for why it appeared here, but he's not about to throw it away. Instead, he shoves it in the sand, burying all but the chain.