Bruno sat on a barrel beside the side of the ship as it moved through the ocean. The barrel never was close enough it could throw him over at any moment. But it let him look over the moving blue seas. Wind blew his hair out of his face and the smell of the ocean hit him like a gentle spray. The ocean would always provide her refreshing spray onto Bruno when he needed it most. But right now, it wasn’t enough.
He ran his fingers through his hair as he brooded on his barrel, feeling a pair of eyes on the back of his head. Bruno shifted to turn around to find his shipwright, Hawthorne walking towards him. He had bits of dirt sprayed on his pale skin and Bruno noted that he must have gotten out of his shop. Building some funny little trinket, probably. Bruno shot him a weak smile and Hawthorne shook his head at his attempt to write off his own feelings.
“Don’t fake shit with me, Bruno,” Hawthorne reprimanding him, never addressing him by captain unlike the rest of his crew. It warmed Bruno’s heart in a way, not having to be reminded with him of the burden he carries each and every day. “What’s wrong?”
Bruno fully turned around so he could face Hawthorne. His light blue eyes were staring into his own brown as they waited for some type of answer out of him. He watched Hawthorne’s foot rapidly tap on the wood beneath him. That was something he loved about the little guy, how impatient he was. His boney arms would be crossed over his just as boney chest like he wasn’t a 17 year old reprimanding a 23 year old. No matter how old or young they were, kids always knew too much.
“Feeling homesick,” Bruno explained shortly and Hawthorne’s stern expression softened at the explanation. He didn’t want to explain Solitam to him or about his only family that he had growing up. Or about the fruit that would be waiting in that little brown bag from his little brother. None of his crew were entitled to know that part of his life and what it meant to him.
“I’m sorry, that must suck,” Hawthorne apologized with a shift in his weight. Bruno reached over to pat his shoulder and he shook his head.
“No need to apologize, man. It’s not your problem to worry about,” Bruno told him with a smile. He watched Hawthorne’s face shift at the reaction, conflict spreading across his face. It wasn’t healthy for him to brush off the help of his crew probably, but there was some ridiculous part of his ego that wanted to keep being independent.
“I’m going to go finish my new gadget. I’ll see you in a bit, Bruno,” Hawthorne waved goodbye to him and he walked back in the direction of his workshop. Bruno watched him walk away and once he was out of sight, he brought his head into his hands.
He wanted to go back home.
