The air is heavy, damp. Smells of pine, wet granite, the sweet decay of summer's end.
The last sliver of sun dips below the horizon, painting the choppy surface of Lake Superior in bruised purples and blood oranges.
JAMIE (17), restless and perceptive, sits on the edge of the splintered, listing dock. He shivers, pulling his worn hoodie tighter.
Beside him, COLE (18) is a solid, unreadable block. Gaze fixed on the vanishing point, elbows on his knees.
Jamie picks at a loose thread on his jeans. The silence stretches.
Cole grunts. A noncommittal sound.
Cole finally shifts, a slow, deliberate movement. His worn denim jacket rustles, smelling faintly of engine grease and lake wind. He doesn’t look at Jamie.
Jamie’s jaw tightens. He tries to hide the bitterness in his voice. Fails.
Silence. The whine of a distant mosquito. The rhythmic SLAP of water against the dock pilings.
Cole’s shoulders tense, just a fraction.
Cole finally turns his head. His eyes, in the gathering gloom, seem darker, deeper.
Cole stands up abruptly. The sudden movement RATTLES the old dock. Jamie flinches.
Cole looms over him, a dark silhouette against the fading sky.
Cole stares down at him. A terrifying beat. Jamie thinks he’s going to walk away.
Then, the unexpected.
Cole KNEELS. Slowly. His knees CRACK in the quiet. He’s eye-level with Jamie now, his face grim, shadowed.
Jamie’s breath catches. The words hang in the air. With you?
Cole reaches out a hand, slowly. His calloused fingers brush against Jamie’s forearm. A feather-light touch. Electric.
Jamie just shakes his head, unable to speak. Tears prick his eyes.
Cole’s gaze drops to Jamie’s lips for a split second, then snaps back up to his eyes. He leans closer.
The words hit Jamie like a punch.
The word ‘us’ hangs there. Cole’s thumb stops stroking his arm.
He exhales, a long, shaky breath. His eyes soften with a deep, tender sadness.
He withdraws his hand.
The moment shatters.
Cole pushes himself back to a standing position. The dock creaks. The wall is back up, solid and impenetrable.
He doesn’t look at Jamie. He turns. Takes a step away.
Cole stops. But doesn't turn around. His shoulders are hunched.
He walks away. The sound of his FOOTSTEPS on the dock planks echoes hollowly in the dark, then fades.
Jamie stays, long after Cole has vanished into the shadows. The silence of the lake stretches out, vast and indifferent.
He reaches into his pocket. His fingers find the familiar, brittle leather of the old JOURNAL. He traces the strange symbols on the cover.
A map to everything they couldn't say.
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