Archive of Our Own

I don't know at what point we decided to give up.

Perhaps there never was such a point. Perhaps it happened gradually, over the course of many, many weeks. We've kept our hopes up, we have kept waiting for a rescue that would come at some point, for a way out of this world and back into our own. For weeks, we have kept a facade of smiles and hope, speaking in “tomorrow”s and “maybe”s and “possibly”s, watching the horizon with eager impatience, knowing that surely, eventually, something would happen to save us. This would be nothing but a short incident, a misadventure while people out there, who surely knew where we were, would send us a boat to rescue us. How else could it be? This was how it happened, right? We couldn't spend our entire lives on this island.

“Don't worry. I'm sure help is on the way.”

That's what we said to each other, the first few days. When we were nothing but shipwrecked teenagers, huddling for warmth in the confines of a dark cave, sat around a meager fire that could barely dry our soaked clothes. That's what we believed in. That's what we held onto, and it brought us hope.

We waited. We didn't know how long it would take. At first, it would take a few days until they noticed the ship had sunken and its passengers never made it to their destination. When the first week ended, I thought it made sense there was no one yet, for no one could know if we had survived. When the first month ended, I told myself they were on their way, searching every island on the ship's path. It would be but a matter of time.

For so long, I held onto this hope. I slept every night on a bed of leaves, telling myself that soon, I would know the feeling of a real bed once more. I told him I was fine eating nothing but raw coconut and grilled seaweed, joking that we would forget it all once we found out the taste of bread and meat again. I told him all of that with a smile, and I knew he was smiling in return, keeping up the same hope as I did, for it kept us going.

“Just think of it as a crazy story to tell your friends when we get back! They'll love to hear all about it...”

Yet I didn't even need my eyes to know that smile was eroding away with time.

~~~~~

Doing nothing, spending my days in waiting just made me crazy. Suddenly withdrawn from everything I've known, my days seemed dull and boring, and it only made things worse. When I asked him to let me see the bamboo tube he's brought one day, I immediately saw it as a way to forget the emptiness that had settled over my days; to have something to do with my hands was my only way out. My craft was shoddy, and I cut myself more than once, but for the first time since we arrived, I didn't even feel time pass. So I thought that I would keep doing this, just to forget I was doing nothing.

“If you need anything done, just tell me.”

“Are you sure? I don't know if...I mean, with your...”

“It's fine. I can do it by touch alone. I've always done so.”

While Keith was out exploring the island and finding more about where exactly we were, I had to stay here for my own safety. This place was nothing like what I had known, and without his guidance, it was way too dangerous for me to come with him. I couldn't help but feel bitter about it, for this was the same speech I've been given all my life, by people who thought they knew better than me about what I could and couldn't do; but this time, on an island filled with cliffs and pits and dangerous animals right at my feet, it was the most reasonable option. Staying in the cave and filling my days with crafts wasn't exactly how I'd have envisioned our island misadventure, but it was better than nothing.

I couldn't help but feel like a burden. Out of all the possible shipwreck companions, a blind and sheltered young lady would definitely hinder him more than anything. Is that really how it felt, at first? I thought I would have to make up for it by being there for him, and helping him however I could. But he never seemed to mind, and everything I did made him ever happier. Even the first meals I cooked out of whatever he'd forage were met with praise, even though I knew they were horrible. Perhaps he just didn't want to hurt my feelings.

“I'm sorry I messed up...it's not very tasty...”

“Nonsense! It, uh...it looks delicious! What...is it, exactly?”

I'm not sure I ever told Keith about this, but perhaps he understood it all the same. My situation never seemed to bother him, and his hand was always there for me. He looked out for me, but he also trusted me and my work. I recall he's once admitted that even though he was the one going out to explore the island all the time, he would never have been able to do so without my help. That it felt nice to know that even in a place like this, he could always come home to me and instantly feel better.

Home. I didn't know when I first started to think of this cave as home. It just felt natural to put down all our stuff here, to start thinking of it as a base where to spread from. This was merely human instinct, after all, and it reassured us to know there would at least be a roof over our heads...well, a cave ceiling at least. But with time, it became no different.

“You know...we would get better sleep if our beds were more comfortable. Do you think you could...make some?”

In retrospect, this had seemed like the first step in a long process. Back then I just thought that if we had to wait for weeks or more, we might as well be comfortable. No use sleeping on cold ground just because help was on the way, right? It's not like we had given up. We were just getting a little more comfort, to help this cave look less depressing. That was all. Just because we were eating on leaves and cooking with odd stone tools didn't mean we shouldn't keep them clean and organized. Being lost on an island was no reason to give up on good rules of society and cleanliness, especially when they help us keep a sense of touch with the world and our own sanity.

That's all it was. Nothing but a slightly more comfortable sleeping surface. Nothing but a wooden shelf, where we could put more of our found stuff. Nothing but a couple of chairs, to help me with work. Nothing but a barrel he dug up, so I wouldn't risk falling into the river when I needed water. It was nothing more, nothing other than…than…

...than everything we had left. I never said it, neither did he, because we both knew it. We knew there was no one on the way, and that it was just the two of us now. Two lost kids, alone against the world, needing to survive however they could.

~~~~~

I'm glad he wasn't here all the time. It would have been too cruel to let him see me cry. There were many nights where I just couldn't hold it in anymore, where I just had to let it all out. Let out my anger against the world, against the sea, against my home that was taken from me, against my life that would never be the same. I was smiling and keeping up hope, but deep down, I knew we would never get back home. I knew that the world had forgotten about us, that our families had lost hope and just mourned us as lost forever, that there was nothing we could do that could bring back the past. Whatever we tried, we would never get off this island, and yet we still waited like idiots for a rescue that would never happen.

One night, I didn't hear him as he came back. And yet, he heard me loud and clear. Before I knew it, he was right by me, asking me what was wrong, and I refused to tell him, struck with shame at my own lies. But to deny it all would have been pointless, for I knew he already knew what I was feeling. I knew I couldn't always tell him what he wanted to hear, and it hurt to face the truth. But it hurt even more to keep up this charade, and I knew I had to make a choice. So I decided to let it all out.

“I just...don't know if we'll ever go home.”

We cried, the both of us. We cried and cried, for we knew I was right. For sometimes, it felt good to cry, to just accept it was all pointless, that there was no more hope for salvation. Sometimes there was just nothing else to do, and we had to face it. And it was a painful night, a miserable one; but yet, by the time morning came, I was already feeling better.

It's as if something had cleared in my head. For the first time, I thought of a future where nothing could happen that would miraculously help us, and it didn't end in a horribly bad way. Keith had told me, while brushing my tears away, that just because it didn't make sense to keep waiting, didn't mean we had to stop. Someone could still come help us, indeed; but until then, our main priority would be to survive. We would need to change our approach, and start thinking long-term if we wanted to make it out alive. For it could be a few years until a boat came, and we shouldn't spend those years eating away at us in despair. The idea of spending so much time on this island terrified me, honestly, but once more he reassured my worries. For I wouldn't be alone, and we'd do this together. We've already had a routine going, so why not just keeping it up and see where it led us? We've come a long way since our first week as castaways, and we could handle it. He knew we could; and his cheer and confidence soon convinced me too.

For a few days, I kept looking out at sea, listening for the sound of anything on the horizon. But slowly, the rumble of the tide and the cries of seagulls just drowned it all away. And with time, I stopped doing it. It would come, of course, but I couldn't just spend my days waiting for it.

~~~~~

Weeks passed. More and more of the island's resources would open to us, and with each discovery came many possibilities. The first time Keith brought back actual meat, I was overjoyed at the thought of the feast we would have that night! He was trying his hand out at actual hunting, but hadn't been met with much success until now. I knew he could do it, it was just a matter of practice. Practice made everything perfect; he commented something about my cooking, recalling how horrible it had tasted during our first days, and I would have shushed him for his mean remarks if I were not agreeing with them entirely. I told him that I only got better at it because he needed lots of energy for his expeditions, and that I could at least do my best to provide him with a hearty meal. He said that I didn't have to do this for him, but I actually liked it. Cooking gave me something to do, and this island had all sorts of edible plants I could experiment with.

“I mean...I don't want to force you into being my housewife.”

“You're not forcing me. You have your chores, and I have mine, that's all. We need both to survive.”

We laughed it off, and I knew it was silly, but from then on I just couldn't shake the thought out of my head. Keith had good intentions, and I knew he was looking out for me, but perhaps he still felt sorry for me. Something then seemed to change in his behavior, something subtle that I couldn't pinpoint, but it wasn't a bad change either.

Sometimes, we'd go out on the beach. The sand was warm under my feet, the breeze smelled of the sea and salt, of dried seaweed and palm leaves, and I was long used to the occasional tickle of a crab under my toes if I accidentally stepped on it. It was strange to think that I've grown accustomed to this place, to all it represented, and that my resentment towards that very same sea had dimmed down with time. I didn't know how long it has been, we've stopped keeping exact track a long time ago; but I wouldn't be surprised if it had been several months since we washed ashore. I must have walked the path to the beach long enough that I knew my exact way around to it, and I could trail about on the sand without fearing to knock into something.

“So, how does the sky look today?”

“Um...well, it's...you know that carrot soup we ate the other day? It looks like that.”

Everywhere I used to go, I'd be met with unease from sighted people who didn't know how to act around me. I couldn't blame them, I was used to it by now, even though it did feel awkward at times. Keith was no different, but since we were living together now and had to work as a team, he tried his best to accommodate my needs and be sensitive. He was a little confused at times, but he had the spirit, and it was still considerate of him. Sometimes he would just describe things to me, and it was hard to be annoyed at it when he had such colorful imagery in his words.

“The entire sky is carrot soup. It's warm, and orange, and...and the sky is like a glowing slice of potato floating in all of it.”

“What is a potato doing in carrot soup?”

“Um...oh, you know how they always put a lemon slice on the rim of fancy cocktail glasses, for decoration? Well the sun is doing just that. With...potato slices. It's a fancy cocktail soup.”

How could I not laugh at this? He was so silly, and I loved it. Why did he have so much ease in cheering me up? Sometimes I'd pretend to know even less visuals than what I did, just to get more of those hilarious descriptions out of him. It always made for a great moment.

I liked spending time with him. He was always so passionate about things, even the smallest ones. I doubt I've ever seen someone get so excited upon finding pieces of wood, or successfully tying a sharp stone to a bamboo stick. There was never a dull day with him, and it only made our time on the island easier. I couldn't have wished for a better companion, even if I tried.

“I'm glad you're here. It would be so lonely without you.”

It felt so strange. I never had anyone my age to hang out with, before. When I had to interact with other people, it always felt awkward and forced, for I had nothing in common with them. I just assumed they wouldn't bother talking to me, who was so different from them, and carried on. I grew up used to being on my own, all while knowing I was missing on so many staples of my youth.

But now, I had no choice but to team up if I wanted to live. And it just became natural, to the point I wondered what had stopped me all those years. Was making friends that easy? Or was it only because of the circumstances? Keith was the only one I could talk to, the only one who could guide me around, and without him, I wouldn't last long. I wasn't sure of how exactly he saw me, but maybe he had similar thoughts. Perhaps that's what brought us a little closer, when it became obvious we would have to spend maybe years of our life here. On this island, our different backgrounds and interests didn't matter, for the experiences we've lived here were enough to bring us together.

We've both woken up one night on a cold, rain-beaten beach with nothing but the clothes on our backs. We've both struggled to make it through one day after the other, foraging whatever food we could find. We've both known the dreadful feeling of illness creeping upon us, when we were reduced to eat dangerous mushrooms to fend off starvation, and the knowledge that one of us might not wake up to see tomorrow; and the relief to know that both of us made it out alive. All of this, we've lived together. And I couldn't help but think that it meant something.

“Do you really think...we can build something, on this island?”

“What do you mean? A house?”

“Well...not exactly.”

I didn't know how to say it. I didn't know if I should. I wasn't even sure of what I wanted to say, of how those things were done. I know that in the end, I chickened out, unable to process what I was feeling.

“...I'm just really glad you're here.”

I never knew if he saw through me, that day. Close as we were, he wasn't exactly the smartest. But I like to think that he did, and that he understood what I meant to say, more than I did myself. I knew it in the way his hand brushed against mine in that moment, as if to confirm what I was thinking. To reassure me that I wasn't alone. And on the moment, it felt nice.

It could have been my young, clueless heart growing overwhelmed. I had no experience with these emotions, I couldn't recognize them. And yet his laughter, his cheery words, his optimism, and the fact we would maybe stay here until the end of our lives only pushed me more and more towards it. He made me happy, and I wanted to pursue that happiness. But I was afraid of what it would mean for us, and of all the negative things that could happen. I don't know how long I spent in that state of mind, drawing my hand away when all I wanted was to bring it closer, denying myself the needed rest of my head on his shoulder, even when he offered it all to me. For I knew he would do anything I asked, and that's exactly why I wouldn't ask it of him. That's why I wouldn't do anything, not until I heard it from him.

~~~~~

It was a frustrating sensation, one I had never known before. I surprised myself with how I was thinking of it, and all the possible outcomes. When he would venture out way past midnight and I stayed home alone, I would sometimes lull myself to sleep with fantasies about the two of us; innocent things, surely, but ones that filled me with emotions I couldn't comprehend. I would work that frustration away in making sure Keith wanted for nothing, and always had a good home to come back to. I would look out for him, maybe more than he's looked out for me, and that alone spoke my thoughts more than my words ever could.

“Did you get water? Have you got spare arrows?”

“Of course I have. You gave them to me.”

“I just want to make sure. Do you need to pack more food?”

“Skye, I'm fine! Don't fret so much about me. I've got all I need right there, you know that.”

“I know...I just don't want you to get in trouble out there.”

And there was no need to see, to know it had such an effect on him. Just by his words, I could hear his smile, his happy smile brighten up my day.

“I'll be fine. I promise.”

And to prove it, he embraced me, his head resting on my shoulder.

“I'll be back before you know it. And this time, I will bring back pelts. You deserve to sleep warmly, with all the work you're doing!”

Perhaps that's when it clicked within me that our thoughts were mutual. That they didn't need words, that our actions would speak them more than enough for us. This wasn't survival, for survival didn't require nicely-wrapped meals or long-hunted furs. It was something we did because we wanted to, just to make each other happy. And it warmed me to my very core, maybe more than a fuzzy lynx blanket ever could.

That evening, after a long stall in the wild plains, Keith did come back with one pelt. It was late, and we both wanted to sleep, but neither of us wanted to hoard it to ourselves. We both thought the other deserved it more, and there was no changing our minds. Finally, tired and about to collapse from exhaustion, he threw the idea that we could share it until we had another one, and to this day I still don't know why I accepted. But in retrospect, I'm glad I did.

It was a bit awkward, at first. I wasn't sure how we should do this, keeping a bit apart. But the night was cold, even with the fire still going, and it just felt natural to huddle together. And it was nice, so very nice. That warmth slowly filled the whole of me and sparked where our clothed bodies happened to touch, like a pleasant tingle I had never known before. I felt his arm rest over me as he tucked the lynx pelt over my shoulders, and I scooted just an inch closer so we both had enough coverage. I thought I had grown accustomed to his touch, with how much he was holding my hand to guide me, but it still found ways to surprise me. And that night, I slept the best I ever had, knowing I would still be warm in the morning even if the fire were to run out.

~~~~~

I never knew that I have missed this. I didn't even think I had known this before. Warm, caring physical touches, that filled a need within me the same way water or food did. I knew Keith felt the same, for even after we woke up, he did not feel like leaving the bed right away. But our chores were calling, and we couldn't stay idle if we wanted to live another day.

“Will you work on the beds again, today?”

“Well...I thought we should wait until we have a pelt for each of us. Otherwise, it wouldn't be fair.”

“Right...”

It felt a little sad to know that this would only be a one-time thing. It wasn't that bad, after all... However, come evening and his return, I found out he hadn't even stepped foot in the plains that day.

“We needed rope more than pelts, so I spent the day searching for vines. Is...is that alright?”

“...of course it is. It's fine.”

And that night, we shared the bed again. It still felt a little weird, but it felt good, and I wanted it to feel good. To feel the weight of his body right next to mine, more than I've ever felt it; to hear the gentle rhythm of his breathing as he fell asleep, and wonder what he could be dreaming about. To know that he was there, safe and warm, for he wanted to be there with me. It was written all over his sleepy body that he felt at ease, and that I could feel at ease too. And I sure did.

The next day, he stayed by the beach to forage for food. The day after, he only brought back small animals. The day after, a rainstorm made it dangerous to go high up in the hills. The day after, he searched all over the beaches to find treasures washed in by the storm. By the end of the week, his excuses got flimsier and flimsier, to the point he didn't even bother finding them anymore, because he knew I didn't need any. I didn't want him to keep having to defend himself. He would come home late at night and find me on his bed instead of mine, and know he could slip right in under the fur blanket. We didn't need to hide it, not when we both wanted it. Not when it was what we needed.

It felt good to wake up in his arms, to feel him spooning me and delicately embracing me. I admit I was a little nervous at first, for I was making myself quite defenseless, but Keith was not that kind of person. I already trusted him with my life, and he would never abuse that trust. I was not afraid in his arms, I was not surprised to go to sleep alone yet wake up in his company. Maybe that's why I loved these moments so much, for it showed how much we had bonded as a team. That only made those mornings even more precious, more cherished. More natural.

“Mh...good morning. Have you been awake for long?”

“Just a little. I didn't want to disturb you.”

I wondered how far it would go. I was a little afraid of how it could turn out and escalate, and I wasn't sure I was ready for all those things I imagined. It was too soon, it was way too soon! Should he have asked this of me, I'm not sure I would have ever lived it down. He'd never ask, of course, but I wasn't stupid. I knew his thoughts must be racing too, when he laid in bed with me. We have been here for months now, and were each other's only social outlet; who knew if his young, eager soul wasn't holding pent-up frustration? I knew I had, there was no other way to name what I was feeling. I knew I was wanting, yearning, yet afraid of what I wanted at the same time. There were so many ways it could go wrong, and I didn't want to rush things. Not if I wanted to maintain a semblance of socially acceptable conduct. It was useless, with just the two of us, but that only proved my point even more. Just because we were alone on a deserted island didn't mean we had to abandon all the good rules of society, even if there was no one to stop us. It's precisely because there was no one to stop us that we should watch ourselves, and make sure nothing goes overboard.

~~~~~

“When is your birthday, by the way?”

“...oh, you're gonna laugh. I think we've already passed it.”

“What? No way! Why didn't you tell me?”

“In my defense, I was pretty busy with other things, as in not dying.”

“That's such a bummer...I would have made a cake! And gifts, too!”

“You don't need to. It's nothing special, really.”

“I mean it. That means you're...eighteen, right? It only happens once in your life!”

“So does any day of our life, really. When is your birthday, anyway?”

“In November. And don't you change subjects! You're getting that cake. You're getting it today! Now go get fruits, so I can make your birthday cake.”

“Pfft. Alright, alright, miss pastry chef. I'll make sure to take my sweet time, so you can scrunch a gift together in my absence.”

“I love how we are on the same wavelength.”

“And I love you too. Right, time to get you fruits!”

I didn't realize what he said until well after he had left. Even if we were on the same wavelength indeed, some things still struck the hearts of people when they were spoken. My own heart had been struck rather deeply, this time; even though I knew he said it on a joking tone, he said it nonetheless. Would he say it if he didn't mean it? How exactly did he mean it? I barely got to work on anything that day, for his voice was still sounding to my ears, speaking those words I had both dreaded and yearned to hear. But even though it stirred at my feelings like nothing else, it gave me the best idea for a birthday present.

I spent all day collecting enough seashells on the beach. The round, small ones, that I knew would be perfect. I had more than enough string collected from all my rope-making, so making a necklace would be a piece of cake. But that was not what I was worried about; far from it.

Evening finally came. I was finishing up the last touches, feeling my work with my fingers to make sure it was still holding up. My heart was beating fast, I could just feel the nervousness setting within me. It felt like a long wait, during which I wondered if I should go through with it. I could still forget about it, and just give him the necklace. He would love it. But this was the perfect occasion, and the perfect opportunity too. If I wanted to know what he was feeling, there would be no better time.

Finally, way past midnight, I heard him come back. Once more, he sounded exhausted, just an inch away from collapsing. He sat on the bed, panting for breath, and I could just imagine the palor on his face.

“...brought you fruit.”, was all he said, with a smile.

But I couldn't care less about fruit. I sat by him, obviously worried by his state, and touched my hand to his neck. He was burning with effort, and it was definitely not sustainable.

“You shouldn't be doing so much...you'll hurt yourself.”

“I don't mind! I don't mind at all.”

His hand laid over mine, keeping it there. He was so happy to see me, I could feel it in his fingers. I wondered if I should still go with my plan, seeing as he was too tired to function, but I promised I would do it. So, with hesitant hands, I presented the necklace to him.

He loved it, of course. Anything I'd give him, he was happy to take. My heart was pounding so fast, and I wondered if he noticed it. I offered to put the necklace on him, and he obliged, helping me find his head. I slipped it around his neck, and rested my hands on his shoulders.

“And...I have another gift for you.”

My hands were trembling. He definitely noticed it, there was no other way. Slowly, I trailed them to his face, cupping his cheeks, getting a feel of where everything was. I shouldn't be so hesitant, I should just do it and show him what I wanted to say!

But...I couldn't. I was too nervous. And I cursed myself for it, as my hands slowly dropped.

“...I'm sorry. I...I just...”

Even my voice was trembling. I felt horrible, like I had just wasted an opportunity that would never come again. I was stupid, so stupid! Why couldn't I just show him how I felt? Were my feelings not true at all?

That's when his hands held mine. His thumbs gently nestled in my palms, as he guided my hands to his shoulders. His own then came to rest on my waist, and I felt him lean closer. And before I knew it, I felt the gentle tingle of his lips pressed against my cheek.

I froze, not knowing what to do, and how to react. He's never been so close to me, even when we huddled in bed to protect from the cold night. I closed my eyes, letting that gentle sensation invade my face and make it all warm, his breath caressing my cheek like never before. He then parted, and his voice was right next to my ear, gently murmuring.

“I love your gift. It's exactly what I wanted.”

I could have burst into tears, right here and then. I couldn't have asked for anything better. In that moment, I felt like he understood me more than anyone else ever had, as if what we had was indeed special. As if it was just that easy to communicate; so easy, that my inability to do anything earlier felt stupid in comparison.

“...I must not be very subtle, am I?”

“You don't have to hide it. Not when...well...when it's rather obvious, you know?”

I couldn't help but feel stupider. How much of it has he seen through me? Did I look that obvious? I just felt so awkward, knowing I've made a fool of myself. But once again, Keith drew my hands to his face, letting me feel around it.

“If that's what you want...you can go ahead. I...I'd really love to get that kind of gift from you.”

He said it again. Did he say it on purpose? Did he even notice what word he used? I wasn't sure of what I should do, until my thumb happened to graze upon his lips, and I felt them plant the tiniest of kisses on it. It was so silly that for a moment, I forgot about my state of mind, and just smiled. We both wanted it, it seemed. There was no point in hiding it.

I leaned in, letting him slowly guide me. I didn't want to mess up again, but I couldn't force myself either. I wanted it to be special, after all. So I took my time, making sure my heart was calm; and then, entrusting myself to him, I made that leap and brought our lips together.

It was the peak of all our unsaid gestures. There was no ambiguity, no secrecy to it, and we both knew what it meant. We both knew what it could bring to the both of us, and even to “us” as a concept. And I wanted it to happen, I wanted to keep this warmth going like a well-tended fire. I wanted it to light up inside me and never go out, for I could care for it and protect it, and he would help me too. And together, we could make it burn bright, and bring some light into our world.

I practically melted into his arms as we embraced for the night. We were so tired, but we didn't want to fall asleep. There was so much I wanted to talk about, so much I needed to voice. So much we shared and confided, until our eyes were too heavy to stay open and our words slurred with tiredness. So much I was thinking about, even long after sleep had caught up to me.

I wasn't afraid of commitment. From a young age, I knew I wanted to find someone to spend my life with. Despite my sheltered upbringing, I had the same dreams as many other young girls, that quickly fell once I realized I would never even manage to make friends. I couldn't help but remember my mother's words, complaining about how it was impossible for me to get married. It still hurt to think about, just like everything else about her. Yet now, there was a possibility it could happen. We were still young, and I didn't know if Keith had the same ideas, but he did say we could spend years of our life on this island. There were so many ways things could evolve! Would it be alright to indulge in something long-term, that could be interrupted by the coming of a rescue boat, that'd force us to return to our former, separated lives?

...it struck me that never before had I thought of an outside rescue as something negative. Never had I felt of my life on the island as something to protect. How much had my outlook changed in just a few months? Could it be that a year from now, I would also look on things in a completely different light?

Well, our relationship wasn't anything that serious just yet. Survival remained our priority, even though there was so much else going on. Should a boat arrive and offer us help, I wouldn't turn my back to it; it would be crazy. Sure, I would be sad that we'd have to leave many things behind, now that I've grown used to our life, but it wouldn't matter in the long run. For now, whatever happened, would happen.

~~~~~

It felt like things remained the same from then on. Our routine hadn't changed, our habits were still the same, and life was still a struggle for survival. But just like seashells in the sand, little moments of tenderness would come pepper our days when I least expected it.

I could hear a change in his voice, every now and then, that I didn't understand at first. I could sense his mannerisms change a little when he was around me, as if he were nervous. I could feel the tenderness with which he embraced me at night, as if he wanted to bring me even closer to him. The way his fingers would play with my hair, the way he'd hum happily when we walked together, the way he'd hold me when we had to climb up hills. All those little things and more, that seemed to pack him with energy as we went along. Now I know that this was just him being in love, for maybe the first time ever, bubbling with teenage excitement at the very idea of it. He was shy, and a little awkward, but this only made him seem more tender and caring. I was growing fond of it, and even fonder of him.

“Do you think we'll last, you and I?”

“I'll do everything in my power to make it last. Being stuck on an island with my ex for only company would be pretty lousy.”

“Is that your only reason? Not very romantic.”

“Why, we both know there's nothing more romantic than bringing your girlfriend goat fat, and then sharing a meal of fried shellfish.”

“I agree, nothing can top that off. But I mean it, Keith.”

“Well...I know I want it to last. If we are to spend years here, I might as well have something to strive for. A reason to not give up, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“We've all got to have something in life that keeps us going. I thought I'd graduate, get a career, maybe even success; I had plans for college and everything. Now...it just seems so far. Even if we get back to the mainland tomorrow, it won't be the same.”

“...I know what you feel.”

“But with you, it's different. You give me something to live for. I've got no other priorities than keeping you safe and happy, and it's a noble goal. If you're with me, I don't mind spending the rest of my days here.”

“That's a little extreme, don't you think?”

“Maybe, but that's how I feel. You're such a great gal, and the best companion I could ever hope for. I...I mean that...”

He was so adorable, when emotion got his words all fumbled.

“I mean...I would love to stay here until I grow old and wrinkled, if it comes to that. To stay with you. And...and we'd grow old together, and this island would truly become our home...”

He chuckled nervously.

“It's silly, I know...there's no way it could happen. But...I like thinking that it could, you know? Nothing's set in stone...and whatever happens, I want to live it with you. That's how much you mean to me.”

Goodness. Goodness, he was definitely too much for me. I'm pretty sure I broke down into tears only listening to him, for this was how much his feelings had moved my own. He panicked and hugged me tight, thinking I was sad at the idea of staying here until we were both old and wrinkled, but if only he knew the truth. If only he knew that no one had ever gone to such great lengths for me, and would be ready to go many more! If only he knew just how much he meant to me!!

I would show him. I would definitely show him.

~~~~~

Time kept passing. The end of the year was coming, and fall ought to be coming to the mainland. I had no idea of which hemisphere this island was in, or anything about its seasons, but I could feel that they had changed. It was getting cold, and my clothes had long since tattered past the point of use. Even the fire would not be enough to keep warm; luckily, Keith had more than enough furs in his bag.

It was silly to think that he's always had enough materials to make a second bed, and didn't even bother to hide it. But now was a little too late to part night ways again, for I had grown too accustomed to his presence. What could I say? His light snoring helped lull me to sleep.

I didn't have any sewing experience, besides patching up light holes, so Keith took it upon himself to do it. As I'd work on weaving baskets and smoking fish, he would carefully learn to use a bone needle and thread, working slowly and muffling swears under his breath whenever he'd prick his finger. It was adorable to witness, and he refused to let me help, claiming that he would need to learn how to do it if he ever wanted to teach me. So I left him to it, counting in my head how many curse words it would take him to complete a row of stitches, and carried on with my own tasks. By the time he was done, it had gone from eleven to only three, which in itself was quite a progress.

The coat he made me was quite rudimentary, and a bit too small, but it still warmed me more than my old clothes. It was the only new thing I had worn ever since I washed ashore, all those months ago, and I couldn't help but feel cleaner. Winter would be a piece of cake, with such a talented seamster to keep us covered.

“How do I look?”

“Like the prettiest cavewoman. Hey, maybe it would look even better with feathers?”

“The expert has spoken.”

We've been living quite like cavemen indeed, but it's not like it ever bothered us. This lifestyle was rudimentary, but it kept us fed, healthy, and now clothed too. It's strange just how a new piece of clothing made things feel like they would last even longer; as if my old shirt was some symbol of my former life, that too was wearing away with time and wear. Perhaps when the day comes that my entire wardrobe is replaced with island-made clothes, would be the sign I had fully embraced this fate. Well, so be it.

...oh goodness, I hope I never get into a situation where I have to ask him to make me new underwear. The thought alone made me want to hide in a hole and never crawl back out!

“Your face is all red. Is everything alright?”

“...that coat is very warm, that's all. Don't mind me.”

There were many things I was not yet ready for. I wasn't sure of how a relationship was meant to go, and if things were going fast or not. I didn't really know what was expected of me, and what he expected of me. Sharing our bed just for sleeping was the most intimate I've ever been with anyone, and I wasn't sure I could ever go anywhere further. I was...nervous, sure, and maybe a bit afraid too. So far, nothing had happened that'd rouse my worries, but I knew things could always change the next day.

~~~~~

With the change in weather, the river and even the sea became much colder. Keeping clean in those conditions was so much harder, especially in those times when I really needed it. But Keith had my back as always: he told me of a place he had found out about a few days before. A small hot spring, on the other side of the volcanic lake. It was a bit of a walk away, but he assured me it would be worth it. I saw no reason to not believe him, for he wouldn't lie to me out of the blue.

Oh, how I shall forever cherish the day he showed me the true wonders of the island. To steep in hot water to fend off the cold, and have the first real bath I had in months...I could just have forgotten all my problems here and then and melted into the rocks, never to be seen again. But all good things had to come to an end, sadly.

That didn't mean they wouldn't start again. Seeing how happy it had made me, Keith made our little lake outings a weekly occurrence. I don't think I've ever been thankful enough for it, for it made things so much easier. For just a little, I could forget about everything and enjoy the hot water, like nothing else could ever happen. And I truly loved his thoughtfulness, his commitment to making sure I was safe and happy indeed.

While I was steeping like a happy little teabag, he would wait for me by the stone steps below, looking elsewhere. I would remain clothed, of course, just putting down my bag and coat before getting wet, but averting his eyes from a bathing lady was just basic etiquette. Usually, we would switch places when I was done, and he could enjoy some peace in turn. Not that I could peep on him, of course, but etiquette is etiquette.

Alas, the curse of the lynx pelt was still upon us. One day in particular, we got so tired on the way to the hot spring that we wanted nothing more but to collapse on the spot. Keith wanted me to go in first and rest, while he'd sit here and catch his breath, but I couldn't just leave him like this. I told him he could go first, that I would wait for once. And we felt the conundrum upon us once more, knowing this would always be an awkward stalemate; but most of all, we already knew the solution.

“You know, there's room for both of us in there. Let's go together.”

Oh. Oh dear. Oh dear, this couldn't be happening. Why today of all days? I could already see the disaster waiting to happen! But before I could say anything, his hand held onto mine, and the warm feeling of the thermal water welcomed me in.

“It's alright. I promise I won't look.”

I heard him scoot away, lean against the rocks and enjoy himself. He was so casual about this! And the worst part was that I couldn't say anything, for I did need this. The cramps have been getting quite harsh for the past day, and hot water was the best way to soothe them.

He was there, so close to me, humming a bit as he relaxed. If he were to peek at me, he would see a lot through my wet and tattered clothes. But all the while, he kept his respectful distance, making little splashes with his hand so I could make sure of where he was. Right...he was not a bad person. I could allow myself to ease in as well. It still felt so weird to share such intimacy with someone, even though there was nothing going on. But then again, I was not used to public baths, or to public anything in general.

“...are you hurt?”

His question surprised me.

“What do you mean?”

“You're bleeding in the water. Did you cut yourself on a rock?”

I was not feeling any pain. I'd knew it, if I had cut myself to the point of bleeding. No, I was fine, I don't see what could…

...oh. Oh no.

I curled away, hastily retreating. Reaching for my stuff, I made my way out of the water, making a splashing mess everywhere. I slipped on the stone steps and almost fell, frozen on the rocks by my inability to get down. I heard him come out of the water as well, and coiled away in shame, bracing myself for what would happen.

“Skye, is everything alright? Are you hurt?”

“I'm not. I'm fine.”

“What's going on? I didn't mean to scare you, I...I just want to know if there's something wrong.”

“It's good. You don't need to know. I'll deal with it myself.”

Perhaps I shouldn't have said that. For I could hear his gears turning, and understanding dawning on him.

“Are...are you on your per–”

“Don't say it! It's bad enough as it is!”

I just wanted to shrivel and disappear, far from here and far from him. I couldn't believe this had to happen! Why must I always ruin everything?!

“Just take me home...I'll deal with it.”

I heard him move, and thought he was going to hold my hand. But instead, he gently touched to my shoulder, in a manner I didn't understand.

“Hey. It's alright, you know? I'm glad to know you're not hurt.”

“You shouldn't concern yourself with that. That's my problem alone.”

“I-I mean...I won't say I know better than you or anything, but...you know you can talk to me, right?”

He sat down next to me.

“I know it's...not very easy. But our situation's kinda weird too. There's no doctors on this island, there's no one but us. If you ever need help with your health stuff, you'd have to ask me. And I want you to know that...you can, you know? I won't judge you. I have sisters, I know how that stuff works.”

It was comforting to hear. But it didn't make things any easier. I shouldn't be talking of such things to anyone, especially not someone I was dating. It just felt wrong!

“I'll gross you out. You won't want anything to do with me.”

“Hey, I once stripped an entire deer of its fur using just a pocket knife! Knowing you're on your period won't gross me out. I mean, it's a sign you're healthy, right?”

“I...I guess...”

“...look, I can tell you're not comfortable. I won't force you to speak to me if you don't want to. But if you need me to do anything to help you, you know you can ask. Cause you have it worse than me...wait, what have you been using all this time?”

“...leaves.”

Being stuck on an island with no modern commodities whatsoever made life quite hard at times. But it's not like I could complain about it. I was always told I shouldn't complain about the whims of my body, only clean up the mess and make sure no one ever notices. So to hear him be so accepting of it...felt kind of strange, to be honest. But it was welcome.

He then changed the subject, and we didn't speak of my period again, which was relieving. Evening was falling, and it was time to go home. He told me he had some late-night foraging to do, and that I shouldn't wait for him to go to sleep. The next morning went on as usual, and nothing of our previous conversation seemed to have transpired; yet when I searched my bag after he had left, I found that along with the food he's left me, he's also slipped in something soft and unknown, that felt in every way like some kind of...sponge? Why would he give me a sea sponge and not tell me…?

...oh, that sly fox. Needless to say, such a gift was quickly put to good use. I didn't tell him, because I didn't need to say it and he didn't need to hear it either, but he obviously knew just how grateful I was. Little attentions can go a long way, especially those I'd rather keep under wraps. Perhaps that too was part of a relationship.

~~~~~

The island was so much bigger than it seemed. Beyond the lake laid a dangerous labyrinth running across a sulfuric gas pit, and then an ancient construction that proved there have been people indeed. Those same people must have brought in all the fruits and plants we could find in the jungle, maybe even cultivated them. There were obvious marks of their civilization all over the hills, but hearing Keith's description of their buildings, it didn't ring any bells in me.

“That seems strange. Either they were voyagers, and came to this island to build this temple and then leave, either they were natives and something drove them off.”

“It's maybe very ancient. I never found any remains of houses or anything. They couldn't all live in caves, I mean.”

“Maybe they lived on another island. They only came here to worship whatever hides in the temple.”

“I haven't looked too deep in, but there's an entire mechanism in there. There's a waterway that leads straight to the plains, and it's still working. And those big stone switches...whoever they were, they must have been very good engineers. I'm sure we can find useful things if we keep going.”

“I wonder why they left. Could it be the volcano's fault? If there's sulfuric gas and thermal hot springs, then it must still be active.”

“Could be. I hope it doesn't happen to us...the lake seems pretty quiet, but there's just so much we don't know.”

The fire gently crackled, but felt colder than it had before. I stood up and went to grab another twig to come feed it, and bring some more warmth into the cave.

“I might have to take my time exploring. But it will be difficult. I'd need to pack lots of food...perhaps be gone for a few days.”

“This long? That sounds dangerous...where will you sleep?”

“There's a small cave right by the spring. It's good enough to sleep. I can pack jungle fruits on the way.”

I sat by him, and held his hand.

“Let me come with you. I'll make sure you have everything you need.”

“...I don't know. It's dangerous. We can't settle in that cave, it's way too small...and there's all this dangerous gas nearby, I don't have a good feeling about it. I'm sorry, angel, but I think it's best that you stay here.”

“I guess you're right...”

I couldn't help but sigh.

“Then let me help you pack your stuff. You'll need nourishing food, spare firewood...perhaps another water bottle. You can have mine, I'll be fine.”

“That means I have to pack for you too. I might be gone for a few days, I must make sure you have enough food and firewood. Are you sure you don't want my fire starter, just in case?”

“You'll need it more than me.”

“I'd better put down a few traps by the house. You'll know if there's something that got caught. Maybe a fishing basket or two.”

“I'll be fine, treasure. With our new smoking shelf, I'll have more than enough fish to last me days.”

“I know, but just in case. Never hurts to make sure, right?”

Of course it didn't. He was so thoughtful, looking out for me even though he was about to go on a long adventure himself. Those were the kinds of things that helped me know it would work out, that everything would be fine. And all I could do was to trust him.

We spent the next day preparing. I cooked a lot of food, wrapped in large leaves to make little ready meals that he could easily bring with him. He went out foraging for wood and materials, repairing his tools and fishing in the river until all his spears were broken. I needed to make sure he wouldn't need anything, once lost within the confines of an ancient temple, and in return he made sure I would be able to spend those next few days in peace and comfort. If this mission succeeded, then perhaps we would learn more about this island than we ever had.

That evening, we shared a hearty meal of fish and fruit, so we would wake up full of energy. This would be the last meal we ate together for a good while, and I wanted to make sure he enjoyed it. I could pack his bag with food and water, but I couldn't fit the warmth and comfort of home in a pocket. That would be what he'd miss the most, I knew it. And I felt bad about it.

“Will you be fine, all by yourself? It might take longer than you think...”

“Well...I could ask you the same question, you know.”

“...I'll hug you tight, tonight. So tight that for days, you'll feel it with you. It'll bring you luck.”

“I'll never run out of luck, angel. I have it right there.”

The seashell bracelet at his wrist rustled.

“I'm always thinking of you. Even when you're far, I wonder if you're alright and happy. Rest assured, I will do everything I can to come back home to you.”

I felt his lips in my hair, and held him close to me. Would I miss him, too? There was no doubt in my mind, and I already hated the idea. But it was needed.

I snuggled him tightly that night, letting myself get lost in all the sensations of his body. The feel of his hair under my fingers, the sweaty scent of his shirt, the sound of his calm and sleeping breath, even the faint taste of his skin under my lips. He was my home, my tether to the world, the one treasure I found on this island. Should anything happen to him, I don't know what I'd do. That's how deeply I had fallen for him, and only after he left for his expedition did I realize it.

It felt so weird. Before, he could go out for the whole day and I wouldn't worry more than that. It's already happened that he'd spend the night out in the plains, and I'd just wait for him. But now that I had grown so accustomed to his company, it only felt much lonelier. I carried on with my chores, feeding the fire and smoking the fish he caught. I thought it would be enough to keep me busy, but now there wasn't even the relieving feeling of knowing Keith would come home soon. How I missed his excited voice bringing me news of the outside, the eagerness of his bag filled with food from places I've never set foot in, the worry with which he'd tell me he somehow sensed my hunger and thirst even though we were so far apart… I could almost say the same, in that moment. I knew he was getting tired, for it was late at night, and that he wouldn't sleep. That whatever was taking him so much time was taking all of it. I tried to picture in my head what kind of places he's found, that he was exploring with so much eagerness. I pictured the native people of the island, what they could have looked like and how they'd have lived.

I pictured the two of us, years in the future, adopting that same lifestyle. Living fully and freely as natives as well, knowing that island like the back of our hands. The cave was now a beautiful house, warm and filled with happy memories. I'd have let my hair grow out, and he'd braid flowers into it as we were taking the morning sun. He'd have grown so much stronger, from all that running and hunting and climbing, and so handsome too. I only had a vague idea of what his face looked like, but I would feel the changes under my hands as we became adults. Strong as he was, he would carry me on his back, and we would explore together, see many places and do all sorts of things. Just the two of us, lost in a world that we made our own.

With so much alone time on my hands, I started to fantasize a bit more. I wondered if we could really stay here forever, and live our adult lives on this island. Away from society, from pressure, from expectations; nothing but survival on our minds. We would not be castaways anymore; we would be home. I was happy with our current routine, I didn't mind it continuing for years to come. Living a life free of worry, growing old with the one I loved.

I imagined the two of us, hand in hand, embracing that desire to never return. Our tattered rags replaced with clothes of leaves and fur, our skin tanned from the sun and our feet roughened by all the climbing. I saw a beautiful proposal, his hand in mine, under the warmth of the setting sun and the melody of the waves. I saw a wedding dress the color of lynx fur, decorated with flowers and seashells. I saw a beautiful gemstone around my finger, matching the one around his own, forever naming us two halves of a pair. I saw him crying with joy as he cradled a little bundle in his arms, from which the tiniest of hands would come to hold his own. I saw my hair white, my hands wrinkled, my legs tired, as we both looked upon the beautiful scenery of the island, our island, upon everything we had built over many years, that we would leave to our children. I saw his face worn with time and work, that was still smiling at me, with me, and I was smiling too, for we had lived a beautiful life. I saw it all, and it looked absolutely fantastic.

Could it happen? Could we truly build a life here? It all seemed so crazy, straight out of a romance novel. I didn't know whether I should believe in these fantasies. But just in case...should things turn sour, and if there was truly no way out of this island, then I would be emotionally ready.

I thought about my family. Did they miss me? Were they still looking for me? I doubt I would have been a great loss, anyway. I knew my mother would be better off with me gone and disappeared. She'd weep to everyone's faces and pretend to be a poor, distraught, perfect mother, but I'd know the truth. I'd know she'd be relieved to not have to care for me anymore, and that she could keep living through my little brother without a care in the world. And what about father? Would he even notice I never made it home? Would he even care that I was gone? Or would he just toss some money into the sea and claim he's done his part? That's the only language he could speak: money. Anything I ever wanted would be bought right away, but that was as far as it ever got. No amount of money could buy a father's attention or a daughter's love. Everyone envied my position, yet if they knew what it truly was like, they'd understand how miserable of an existence it was.

They wouldn't be happy to know that their daughter had ended up living like a savage on some deserted island in the middle of nowhere. They wouldn't be happy to know she was dating some unknown boy, who treated her like a person and not like a piece of furniture to walk around. They wouldn't be happy to know that I was happy, that I felt free for the first time in my life, that I had found love and fulfillment on this very island. And I felt a sweet taste of revenge as I thought of it, for I was doing whatever I chose to do, and they could never say anything about it. It was the perfect life, it was a great opportunity to stick it to them, it was…

It was a little cold, wasn't it?

Breaking from my thoughts, I stood up and went to check on the fire. It felt pretty weak, didn't it? I went to get a twig or two, knowing I could still save it. But just as I was getting back, a gust of wind blew into the cave, and everything suddenly seemed much darker. I knelt by the fire, feeling for it, but the warmth had gone away. The fire had died.

Oh no. No, don't be off, no!

I fumbled around in the ash and soot, trying to find last embers. But it wasn't as easy as I'd have thought, and the residual heat burned my fingers. I gathered a pile of burnt twigs and fed it more firewood, hoping it would be enough to revive it, but nothing happened. And the cold breeze was blowing into the cave even more, chasing the last remnants of warmth.

“Come on, burn! You can't go out now!”

A fire starter. I needed a fire starter. I searched around the shelves, feeling for anything that could be it, but it dawned on me that I didn't even know what that tool was made of. What would it sound like when Keith used it, again? There was no clicking, it couldn't be flint stones. There was...rubbing, yes. The rubbing of wood. I grabbed a large stick from the shelf and crouched by the fire, taking a small twig and rubbing it over in an attempt to produce any form of warmth. But nothing happened, and the twig slipped out of my hand. I picked it again, trying another angle, but the sound just felt off. How could he make it sound so easy? I rubbed with all my might, hoping, praying for a sound or a spark, but all I did was scratch my hand on a splinter.

“Come on, come on! Please!!”

I rubbed and rubbed and rubbed, but nothing happened. It was getting colder now, and the winter wind was knocking at the door, trying to break in. I tightened my coat around my shoulders and kept trying, chafing pieces of wood together without knowing how or what I was doing, but nothing happened. No fire to blow away the cold, chase the darkness or reassure me that this would be fine.

“This can't be happening…!”

I felt my throat start to hurt. Why couldn't I just do it?! Why couldn't I do something as simple as starting a fire!? I kept trying, rubbing and rubbing and gripping the wood until the stick broke in half, until I was left with nothing but splinters and sawdust, until I had started to cry at what had just happened.

It was dark outside, and I was tired. My stomach was protesting, so I managed to stand up and search the shelves for something to eat. I found fish, meat and shells, that could make for several very filling meals; yet alas, they all were raw. I checked the meat laid on the smoker, and while it had hardened, I knew it wasn't done yet. I could try eating it, but I didn't want to risk getting sick, since there would be no one to help me.

I had limited options. I could go search for coconuts on the beach, in the cold and darkness of the night, which I had never fought before. I could walk along the cliff wall outside and pick mushrooms from the patch, but if I happened to pick the wrong color, I could be in for serious trouble. I knew there were vegetables on the other side of the river, but just the thought of crossing the stepping stones by myself sent me in a panic. No, there was nothing I could do. Not on my own.

I slipped under the blanket and tried to rest, figuring I could sleep my hunger away until morning. But I couldn't manage to fall asleep, no matter how much I tightened the pelt around me. It was way too cold, and I couldn't fight it nor sleep it away.

I've never wanted Keith to be here as much as I did that night. As I laid there, frozen and afraid, hungry and tired yet incapable of filling either of those needs, I thought of how I'd be ready to give anything just to feel his embrace again. I started crying, unable to hold it in any longer, and unleashed my griefs at the world in muted, strangled whispers of pain. I waited for him to come back, to bring light and warmth back into my world, to chase all that fear away and hold me tighter than he'd ever have. I wanted him, I missed him so much, and it felt horrible.

I couldn't sleep at all, that night. When dawn came, I was still up, still cold and afraid. I wanted to come out and let the sun warm me up, but my body refused to move. My cheeks were soaked with dried tears, and my stomach was angry at me. And I was still alone, for that was what hurt the most.

But I tried. I tried to keep going. I couldn't just stay here and wait for death to come, without I even tried to fight it. I managed to rise, to take a sip of water and munch on some half-cooked fish, feeling I could deal with sickness better than with hunger. It was cold outside, the sun had not yet warmed the earth, and I never yearned for a warm bath in the hot spring as much as I did in that moment.

Life on the island was not all sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes, it was hunger, it was cold, it was not knowing whether I'd make it till morning or not. It was waiting, it was toiling, it was painful. There was so much I was missing from my old life, and it was hard to ignore. This life would never be easy, even when everything seemed to go well.

But that did not mean I'd wait for things to magically get better. That's what we've agreed on, right? There would be no one to save us, no one but ourselves. If I wanted things to get better, I had to do the first step.

So I stepped outside. Pelt wrapped around my shoulders, a stick in my hand to help feel my surroundings, I set out to forage for raw food. Since I already knew the way to the beach, I knew where to find coconuts. They were the first thing I had eaten when I shipwrecked here; Keith had offered some to me. Now the taste of raw coconut was for me one of fear and cold, and I wasn't sure I could handle it, but I could either force myself or starve. And I would not let myself die, not when Keith had done so much work to let me live. The least I could do to repay him was to show my independence.

The air was cold, and the sand wasn't any better, but the sun would come and warm me up. For now I sat under a tree, cutting chunks of coconut flesh with my knife, listening to the sound of the tide. I knew Keith wouldn't be back for a while, but I was sure he eventually would. I had the feeling he was alright, and that even though he was tired and hungry, he could manage just fine. He was strong, and so was I.

I just had to convince myself of it.

~~~~~

How I had missed hearing the sound of his footsteps.

He looked weary and tired, and his body was wrung with exhaustion. Just a moment more, and he would likely have collapsed right on the doorstep. But it was alright, now: I was there for him. It would be alright.

“It's cold...did the fire go out?”

“It did. But it's alright, I'll get it back up. For now, you rest.”

“I should do it...help me get up-”

“If you take one more step, you'll pass out! I can't risk it. Here, eat something.”

I tucked the pelt tighter around him, and felt about for his bag.

“I need to borrow your fire starter. What does it look like?”

“Please, angel, I can do it...”

“No, you can't! You need to rest. I'll get the fire going, don't worry. What tool do you use?”

I could feel the hesitation in his voice. But I wanted him to feel the conviction in mine. I could do this, there was no other choice! If I didn't, he'd die right there and then! We both knew it, and we knew this couldn't keep on forever.

“...it's a wooden bow, wrapped around a stick. And a piece of bark with holes in it.”

“I think I got it. Is that it?”

“Yes...put it by the fire, and start spinning.”

“Alright...ah, I'm sorry to ask this, but I'll need you to guide me. Be my eyes, I already have hands.”

It was quite awkward to try working an unknown tool with a complicated mechanism, basing myself on Keith's instructions. I had no idea of what I was doing, but I kept going anyway, because he needed fire and only I could make it happen. I kept spinning and spinning, rubbing a hole into the bark until Keith saw the first sparks appear. Then, still following his words, I very gently blew on them until I could smell the smoke burning. Then it was only a matter of feeding the embers, and quickly the fire took hold.

I couldn't help but be relieved. At last, warmth and light! I was so proud of myself.

“Alright. I'll get to cooking something, so you don't go to sleep hungry.”

“I'm fine...I'll be good, I promise.”

“Maybe, but I'm hungry too. And I know you'll want some. So I might as well cook for the both of us, right?”

“...you know me too well, angel.”

Of course I did. That was the least I could do.

Soon, the smell of fish stew started to fill the cave with wonderful flavors. My stomach grumbled with impatience as it was getting ready, already picturing the wonderful feast I've been waiting for. Sometimes, happiness was as simple as warm food, and I was well aware of it.

Keith tried to sit up as it was getting ready, but I shushed him back to bed. He was still very weak, and really needed to lay down and recover. He was burning with fever, and I could believe he'd eaten some mushrooms he wasn't supposed to.

“You must have walked such distances...you have to take it easy.”

“It's not my legs...it's my arms, really. I feel so sore from pushing all those crates...”

He shuffled about in bed.

“But that was worth it. You won't believe what I've seen out there! There's–”

“Please, love. I know you're eager to tell me, and you've made me curious too. But if you start telling your story now, you won't be getting any sleep. Can it wait just a little?”

I could tell he wasn't too happy about this. But there was no changing my mind. I would wait, and so would he.

For now, I'd make sure he was alright. I sat by him, bowl in my hands, and carefully fed him bits of fish like a caring mother bird. His skin was burning with fever, and he'd need to drink some fluids to make up for all that sweating out. But it would be fine, now. I was there for him. I'd make sure he wakes up better and stronger.

“...did you stay in the cold all this time?”

I couldn't bear to face my own inability to do things. But I couldn't lie either, not when I was still shivering like a leaf.

“I...I thought the fire was bigger than it actually was. Well, turns out it wasn't.”

“I'm so sorry it happened. You must have been so sick!”

“I handled it like a champ. You should have seen me!”

I chuckled, trying to stay positive. But he wasn't too convinced.

“...I'll make you your own fire starter. I'll show you how to use it. That way you won't have to rely on me.”

“I'm fine. I can handle it, I tell you.”

“Skye, don't lie to me. You're pale and shivering. You couldn't eat any of the food I left you. It's all my fault!”

It wasn't. But I couldn't tell him that I neglected the fire because I was too busy daydreaming about our perfect island life. I just felt so ashamed at the mere thought of it. How could I let fantasy prime over living in the present, and taking care of things? Is that how I would be a responsible girlfriend? I felt so sick of my own behavior.

“...it's alright. It's in the past, now. We're both home, and we're warm and safe...right?”

“Right...”

I tried to smile, putting the food down. Then, I wrapped my arms around him, and gave him the biggest hug I could ever give him in that state. He smiled, and rubbed my back in return, whispering softly.

“I love you, angel. I'd hate for anything to happen to you.”

I blinked, his words taking me by surprise. He almost never used that word, so whenever he did, I knew he was serious. All I could answer was a tighter embrace, my face burying somewhere between his shoulder and chest. And that familiar scent of sweat and dirt hit me again, reassuring and familiar like nothing else.

“I love you too, my treasure.”, I whispered. “You mean the world to me.”

His arms held me in return, and I climbed in bed with him. I slipped under the furs and held onto the warmth of his body, like a solid constant that would never change. His lips got lost in my hair, and I sighed happily at the thought of sleeping with him tonight. Absence made my heart grow fonder, and I wouldn't shy out on showing him just how much.

It felt so natural, now.

~~~~~

We were not alone.

There were people. Here, on the island. A whole group of them, just beyond the temple. But if I were to believe Keith's tone, they did not seem like they would help us at all.

“I've seen them. I've heard them talk to one another. If we get caught, it's game over for us.”

“What could they be possibly doing here?”

“I don't know. They looked like soldiers...nasty ones. They're well bent on protecting their base, and that never means good news.”

“A military base on an island lost in the middle of nowhere...that doesn't sound good. What if they're part of a drug trade, or human trafficking?”

“Let's not panic like that...maybe they're just a secret military base for some foreign army. But what they're doing doesn't matter: I snuck in closer, and found out they have a boat!”

“A boat?”

“Yeah! It's not very well-kept either. We could sneak aboard and use it to sail out of here!”

I couldn't believe it. In all the time we've spent here, this was the first time a real, tangible escape route had appeared. To steal a boat from a dangerous military base wasn't exactly the most sensible thing ever, but it was there. After all these months, we had a way out.

And I didn't know how to feel about it.

“I have to think of a way to get the key. We'd need a map, too...and make sure it has fuel. I might have to sneak into the base to get supplies...”

“I don't get it. You...you want to leave the island?”

“Of course. That's our goal, right?”

It was. In all this time, I forgot that it was. Our escape had always seen so far and unreachable that I just completely discarded the idea in the back of my mind, in favor of living to the fullest on this island. I helped build our life here, build everything we had left, and abandoned the idea of the mainland which now was but a memory. And now, it was coming back at full speed.

“It is, but...we're good here, right? We...we can live just fine.”

“We can, but...now, we can go home! We can return to all that we had! That's a good thing, right?”

I blinked, taken aback by his words. Something unpleasant started stirring in my gut, something that I didn't like at all.

“You...do want to go home, right?”, he asked.

I didn't know how to answer. I didn't know what to say. Memories of the mainland started coming back, memories of all those moments I have felt lost, miserable, shunned by those that should have cared for me. My fists clenched, gripping at my skirt nervously, as the voice of my mother sounded out to my ears, her mean comments lashing at me like a whip.

“...I have nothing to return to. My home is here.”

“You're not talking seriously, are you? Don't tell me...don't tell me you'd rather stay here!”

“And what about it?!”

My voice came out louder than I meant to.

“What if I do want to stay? What if...what if I did grow attached to this island?”

“But what about everything you left behind? Your friends, your family? Your dreams?”

“What about them? They're good where they are. They won't miss me, anyway.”

“Of course they do! Anyone would miss you. Maybe they're looking for us in that very moment!”

He held my hand, wanting to be optimistic. But I couldn't help drawing it away.

“That may be true for you. But not for me. I know that...that my own family is better off without me.”

I heard him gasp at my words, but I said them. Of course it would sound strange, if he's never heard of my own family history. But I couldn't lie about something like that. I just...couldn't!

I stood up and walked outside, leaving him there. I didn't feel like explaining myself. Before he could stop me, I made a run for it, heading for the beach. When my feet hit the sand and my back hit the rocks, I let myself collapse on my knees, trying to fight that horrible feeling within me. But the weight of that discovery was simply crushing me to bits.

Escape. Leave the island, and go home. But what home? What could there be for me, beyond this ever-reaching sea? What could there be that'd justify leaving this haven of peace that I had fallen into, and return to a world of pressure, expectations, social norms and disappointment?

My hands on the sand were rough, my fingers hardened with working bamboos and ropes for so long. My nails were broken in places from digging in the ground to forage for food. I touched to my hair: it reached my shoulders now, and felt like a mess. I looked nothing like what I used to. Could I return to the mainland in that state? Would anyone recognize me? Would anyone even want of me, who reeked of seaweed and fish, who wore the pelts of dead animals, who ate and slept and lived like a hunter-gatherer for so long? What would a girl like me ever do in a world she couldn't even fit in?

There was nothing of the sort here. No hands touching up my face in the morning, no one to criticize my hair or my clothes, no one to correct my posture and my manners when there were people present, no one telling me what I should say or think or believe. On this island, there was almost nothing to do, but I could choose to do whatever I wanted. I could go wherever I pleased without being told I'd be unable to, I could eat as much as I wanted and needed, I could say what I felt like and sit however I pleased without that ever-present voice telling me that it wasn't proper or ladylike. For the first time in my life, I was free, and I cherished this freedom more than anything else.

There was no way I could give it up and return to my old life. Not now that I had stepped outside of my golden cage, and had taken my first wingbeats into the blue.

Lost in my thoughts as I was, I barely heard the rustle of a seashell bracelet touching to my shoulder.

“...there's nothing for me out there.”, I simply said, defeated.

Keith sat down next to me, holding my hand. I accepted it, knowing it would be useless to run. The sea was singing as beautifully as ever, and this melody had become so familiar to me over the past few months. Like a companion that would reassure me of my surroundings, standing still and never changing.

“I'm sorry, Skye. I never meant to upset you.”

“It's not your fault.”

I could carry all the blame, if that's what he wanted. Sighing, I just laid my head on his shoulder, and let his hand rub my back to comfort me.

“It's true that we've built quite a life for ourselves here...I'd be sad to leave it behind.”

“I just don't know why we have to leave it. Why couldn't we stay here? We're not in need for anything.”

“I know...but it just doesn't sit right with me. I can't possibly live the sweet island life while I know my family is mourning me. I can't do this to them...”

There was genuine sadness in his voice. It hurt to hear it, almost like it hurt to disagree with him on something so important to the both of us.

“I just don't know.”, he said. “I know where you're coming from, and I understand, but...I want my folks to know I'm doing okay. That I'm safe, that I'm alright, that I'm...”

He paused for a moment, and I didn't know why. His finger started twirling in my hair, and I heard the smile in his voice.

“That I found love, in the least likely of places.”

He sat up a little.

“Going back to the mainland doesn't mean going back to bad people. You can come with me!”

This time, it was my turn to be startled.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I know my family. And they'd love to take you in, if you have nowhere else to go. I've got a sister, she's in college now, but you'd be good friends. And my parents would make sure you've got all you need.”

His words warmed my heart in ways I hadn't envisioned. Could it really be possible? Could it be that his family would really accept me, a blind stranger their son met on a deserted island? Could they really take me in, in ways that my own parents never have?

I felt my eyes watering. It was way too much for me. Keith held me close as I started crying, unable to believe what was going on. To say that he would be ready to do something like this for me! Could I ever be grateful enough for ending with someone like him?

“We don't have to leave right now, anyway. That boat doesn't look like it's going anywhere. We can take some time to think about it. Plan things in long-term, isn't that right?”

“It is.”

I embraced him tight, burying my head in his shoulder. His lips got lost in the tangle of my hair, his breath caressing me like the softest gust of wind.

“Come, now. Let's go home, and keep doing what we have. We shouldn't rush things.”

“Right...”

He held my hand as I got up, and led the way to our cave, just like he did when I first met him. Just like he's always done when I needed him. Out of all the people in my life, Keith was maybe the most reliable one I've ever known, and that alone was special.

I didn't want to part from him. Wherever I'd spend my life, that much was true. That much would always be true.

~~~~~

I did not know before that families were supposed to be kind and understanding. But listening to Keith speak about his life made me realize that I've missed on so much.

He had two sisters, one in her second year of college and one just entering middle school. Their parents worked in retail, and even though life wasn't easy by any means, they could still live comfortably and allow their son to go on an overseas school trip. They were not a close-knit bunch, but they were supportive of one another, and their house would always be a nice place. He always could bring friends over if he wanted to, and they'd be welcome at any time. Such was the generosity of people that had little, but shared it all the same.

“They'd be so happy to learn that I have a girlfriend. And they'd be delighted to meet you. We'd tell our story, and they would barely believe us! But it'll still be great.”

“I didn't know you came from such a background...are you sure they would be fine with one more mouth to feed?”

“Why would you worry about that? You're not just a mouth to feed, angel. You're a great addition to the family. You're a person anyone would love to meet.”

He embraced me a little tighter, his head on my shoulder.

“I'm sorry you grew up thinking such negative things. But now, it's going to get better. I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise!”

“I know you won't.”

I knew it. But that wasn't what hurt most.

“But even the best will in the world wouldn't do anything in the face of the law. My own family may dislike me, but they wouldn't just sign away their rights to anyone. That'd be bad image...”

“What about it? We can fight them in court. You deserve a place that loves you!”

“They'd just buy their way into putting me back in a cage. You'd never stand a chance.”

I sighed, knowing I was bringing his plans down one by one. But I was right, and he knew it. Things wouldn't be as smooth as we'd like them to be, in this complicated world I wanted to run from.

“I'm sorry I killed the mood. Your family sounds like great people, and I would love to meet them...but things rarely go as planned.”

Our only way out was a hopeless dream: trek across the island and sneak on a heavily-guarded military base, steal a boat under everyone's eyes and steer it in a random direction hoping to find land. That was all we've had for now. Needless to say, I had a bad feeling about this.

“I'm not sure we can do it.”, I admitted. “It's all so risky...and there's too many things that can go wrong. We're not desperate enough to try that, are we?”

“Well...we're not.”

He sighed, defeated.

“Even I don't know how we could possibly pull this off. I don't even know how to drive a boat! Or how to navigate, really!”

“I'm sorry. I never meant to crush you like that.”

“...no, it's not your fault. I should be reasonable, too...it's not a heist we can pull off in one swoop afternoon. I used to have that kind of motivation, but now...”

His hand idly caressed mine.

“Now...I don't know. I've already thought about staying on the island with you, and it doesn't sound so bad...it's definitely easier. We've got a good life going on.”

He brought it to his mouth, letting his lips touch to my fingers. I gently cupped his cheek, caressing the curve of his chin as he turned to face me.

“Would it be fair to give up?”, he asked. “To just renounce getting away?”

I didn't know what to say to that. The shrill voice in my head told me that giving up was unforgivable, that only losers and good-for-nothings ever gave up. But I ignored it and told myself that we were being sensible, that we thought about the long-term side of things. That we chose to do this.

“We're not giving up. If we were, we'd have died in our first week here. But we fought on, we've survived all this time. And we'll keep fighting, as long as it takes.”

I looked at him, at the blurry semblance of his face that felt to me like the softest of shapes. My hand reached for his cheek, and I caressed it for a good moment, just feeling him under my palm.

“We're not giving up. That's why we're still alive.”

I felt him smile under my fingers.

“We won't give up.”

He returned the gesture, and our faces drew closer. The caress of his lips on mine filled me with warmth and butterflies, better than any hot spring ever could.

Just the two of us, against the world, against everything. I couldn't have asked for any better outcome to my existence.

~~~~~

“Where do you see yourself in the next five years?”

At that point, such questions needed to be asked. To have goals in mind was always good, especially in a place and situation where they were vital to our sanity. There were no jobs, no studies, no other people on this island, so what could we mere humans possibly strive for?

“On this island, obviously. It's kind of what we've agreed on.”

Have we agreed to stay here? Or have we simply renounced to fight fate and upturn the tides of the ocean that brought us here? I think those were one and the same, in the end.

“Would we shape it to our will like colonizers? Or bend to its own, like animals?”

“What kind of question is that? We're not animals.”

“Of course not. I mean, we've already got furniture and all those other things...but I wonder if we can take it further. Build all sorts of things.”

Keith stared ahead pensively.

“You mean...an actual house? With walls and a roof?”

“For instance. Would we do that?”

“I'm not sure. I like this cave, it's already a pretty good house. Although a door wouldn't be too bad...it's getting pretty cold.”

He leaned down one moment, to pick up a piece of wood.

“Maybe torches. They would keep burning even if the fire's off. That way you'd never have to worry about darkness.”

“That would be nice...”

My toes hit a twig, and I bent down to pick it up.

“Maybe...I could craft a fishing net out of rope. A big one. We'd never be hungry.”

“And I could set up a farm. Not exotic fruits, but carrots and potatoes can grow in this soil, right? They can't be too hard to plant...”

It's obvious there have been farms before, right on the other side of the river. People have been living here for ages, and remains of their world still existed. The biodiversity of this island was amazing, perhaps too amazing to be natural; if those people could have built part of their civilization here, then so could we.

“It will be a lot of trial and error, of course. I don't know anything about farming. But we'll figure it out...I mean, what if we get more mouths to feed? Foraging can't keep us all satisfied forever...”

I didn't catch up on what he's said right away, busy as I was with thoughts. But when I did, I froze on the spot.

“What do you mean, more mouths to feed?”

It couldn't be what I was thinking, right?

“Ah...well, I mean, you and I were on the same ship, right? What were the odds that we'd both make it here, out of all the islands in the area? If we are to stay here for the years to come, well...maybe there'll be more people shipwrecking here?”

“...oh.”

I hadn't considered that possibility. To make it out alive was already such a stroke of luck, but if the two of us made it, there could always be more that make it too.

“I mean...it's kind of an ill omen to wish such things, right? Not everyone will take that experience kindly.”

“No, obviously not. But...it might happen, you know. And if it ever does, those people could need our help.”

“Of course.”

I wasn't sure how to feel about it. Other people, intruding themselves into our life? Well, perhaps it would be a relief more than anything. Even with a boyfriend I loved and cherished, human interactions could only go so far. What if we eventually run out of things to tell each other? Oh, that'd be dreadful.

Unless, of course, we were to gain new people in a completely different other way. I dared not think of it, in case he noticed what reactions it gave me, but the thought stirred within my head all the same. The pitter-patter of small feet on the sand, the rustle of tiny hands in the grass, the hesitant words of a mouth speaking its first words, from a face neither mine nor his but something in-between… What if it were to happen? What if, at some point in our lives, we wanted to make it happen? There was so much we would need to do first...oh, how it made my stomach stir with those happy little butterflies!

“...from wood, right?”

I blinked, unaware that I had zoned out.

“Um...I'm sorry? I didn't quite hear you.”

“I was saying, paper is made from wood, right?”

From the sound of it, he was holding a piece of tree bark.

“I think so. Why do you ask?”

“Well, it's just a silly thought, but...”

His fingers nervously rasped over it.

“I mean...if I'll never see my family again, I want them to know that I'm okay. So I thought...maybe I could try writing a letter?”

I blinked.

“A letter?”

“Yeah. Like...a message in a bottle, you know? With luck, it might make its way somewhere.”

That sounded like a crazy idea. But...it was rooted in some sense. I could feel that this would greatly put his mind at ease. It was because of me that he'd never get to see his family again, so it was the least I could do for him.

My arm wrapped around his own.

“That's a great idea.”, I smiled. “Although making paper from scratch sounds a little complicated...how about working something with bamboo, or coconut husks?”

“You mean...oh, like Chinese bamboo slates? That could work! And that way it won't get damaged by water!”

He embraced me, happy that I was supporting his idea. And I hugged him in return, for I could understand his feelings.

We could build something, of course. But to look into the future, we needed to lay the past to rest once and for all.

~~~~~

Making ink from berries and leaves was not the hard part. Cutting and soaking bamboo slices, tying them together wasn't the hard part either. But knowing what to write was definitely the hardest, and I couldn't even begin to think how Keith was feeling.

How to say with words what we've always told each other with as much as a glance or a touch? How to make our feelings known to people that couldn't understand them? How to tell our loved ones that we've renounced everything we've always known, and willingly decided to abandon them? Perhaps it was a good thing that we'd never know whether or not this letter would make its way into the right hands, for its contents just felt like cruelty.

But we needed to send it. For it would be our only chance to say goodbye to a past we've renounced.

Keith's letter to his family was long and heartfelt. In it, he poured all of the love he had for them, all that he could fit on thin bamboo slates that needed to fit through the neck of a bottle. I was there for him as he wrote, for he kept sniffling and sobbing under all the heartache, and I had great pain for him. I could tell he genuinely missed them, and I would hate to be in his stead. But it had to be done.

After some consideration, I asked him to write one for me too. I figured I should send the world some word that I was still alive, if only so they would know. But no matter how much I turned it in my head, I couldn't find the words to say to my own family.

“We could start with 'dear mom and dad'? Or is that too familiar?”

“...you're right. 'Dear Mr and Ms Bright' will do.”

“Really? But, they're your parents. Won't that seem a bit cold?”

I shrugged, and motioned for him to write on.

“...'I'm fine. I'm healthy, in good shape, and I'm happy. This adventure is nothing but a permanent tropical vacation for me.'”

“Wow, talk of hyping it up. Are you sure you want to say that?”

“I am.”

He commented nothing, and kept ghost-writing.

“'I am happier than I have ever been with you. For once, I will not burden you with my care and my future. I will do it myself, and I will do it better than you ever have.'”

I could tell Keith wanted to say something, but I'm glad he didn't. If he wanted to speak words of love, I wanted to speak words of resent; for this too was my only chance.

“'I found love. I found a purpose. I found a place where I could live without you nagging over me. Don't come looking for me, and just keep on pretending you cared about me.'”

It was cold and sharp, but it felt good. Even if this letter never made it out to the mainland, at least those cruel words would be out of my system. I let Keith guide my hand to the slates, so I could sign the letter and confirm those were indeed my thoughts and words. Then he carefully folded them up, writing our parents' names and addresses on each, and attempted to squeeze them into a bottle.

“Think we should at least tell them where we are?”

“On an island in the middle of the Pacific. No coordinates, no names, nothing; even if we wanted to, we couldn't.”

“...right.”

He capped it shut with a whittled cork, and weighed it in his hand. It would float, alright. Yet we'd never know whether our parents would ever read it, or even if the currents would carry it to the right country within our lifetime. But that wasn't my concern, now.

I felt his hand slither into mine.

“I know it's not that important to you. But...do you want to come send it with me?”

“It's important to you. Of course I will.”

And together, we walked to the beach. It was already dark, and the tide was low; but the current was strong, and would carry our message to its destination. I've heard stories of messages in bottles that were only recovered a century after they'd been cast off, in which case our letter would be useless and forgotten. I think we both knew that this would never succeed; and yet, we still did it. For at least, we could say that we tried, and that maybe the world would know about our whereabouts. A last call of triumph, a claim over life itself: “We're here. We survived.”

He wrapped my hands around the bottle. Without knowing why, I kissed the glass for good luck.

“Please receive our message, Mr and Mr Woodrow. Please know that your son is safe, and that I will take great care of him.”

He chuckled.

“I thought you wouldn't get sentimental?”

“I never said that. You made me sentimental about your family, so now deal with it.”

I handed the bottle back to him, and after a moment, he kissed the glass as well, whispering a prayer of good luck. He held my hand tight, stepped forward, and with his other arm chucked the bottle as far as he could. I heard it splash in the water, quite a distance away, where the sea would pick it off and do the rest.

“Now it's up to the tide. And the gods of the sea.”

“I might build a shrine to Poseidon just for that one.”

We stayed there for a moment, enjoying the softness of the night, as he watched the bottle drift away into the horizon until it disappeared. Carrying our hopes and our dreams in a tiny glass bubble, forever rocked by the waves until the end of times.

“...so when were you going to tell me your parents were both men?”

“Jamie's actually my stepfather. Also I wasn't sure it was relevant.”

“Next time you offer me to be adopted into your family, at least tell me more about them.”

“Oh, we have all the time in the world to talk about our families now.”

His hand tightened around mine.

“I mean...you're already family to me, angel.”

I couldn't help smiling at his corniness.

“Put a ring on it before making such claims.”

“Aw, rats. To say I wanted to claim it some more!”

“Island or not, there's always rules. Sorry, I don't make the rules.”

“You literally made this one up!”

“Have I?”

“Yes you have!”

And we both laughed about it. It was silly, but it was true all the same. We were family, whether we chose it or not, and we just hadn't realized it yet.

Blood might be thicker than water, but any sane person would always pick water over blood. It was basic survival.

~~~~~

The first signs of warmth soon came to chase away the cold of winter, and the island regained in sounds and beauty that had been gone for months. Spring was here, which meant food would be plentiful once more. Nature was waking up from its sleep, and the next months would be filled with sunlight and shine, until they'd eventually loop back to outrageously high summer temperatures.

Keith's fingers worked their way across my hair, nimble as always, helping a braid take shape. I'd have done it myself, as usual, but he knew how to make it look even prettier, braiding flowers into it with a learned skill. And I just loved being pampered, what could I say?

“If this keeps going, you hair will reach your waist.”

“You like touching it up, don't you? The more work you have, the merrier.”

He chuckled. On our island, there was no reason for me to try to keep up an appearance I couldn't even see: there were no means either, but I came to learn it was a good thing. It just took so much pressure off my shoulders to not have to put on a facade as soon as I woke up, and that was one of the good things about this life.

Of course I tried to stay clean and proper. But Keith had seen me in many situations that I would never have shown to anyone. My face had been streaked with gross tears, dirt, ash and even blood, but he kept reassuring me that he would never look at it with anything other than admiration. He's seen me trudging in the mud, being soaked with rain, my clothes get torn and tattered on the brush, my hands get all kinds of dirty, but he didn't care at all. No matter how much grime covered my being, he would always be willing to look past it; it did not seem like much, but to me who's grown used to every detail of my appearance being criticized and scrutinized, it was a huge relief.

His work done, he tied my braid in a little bun, letting it hang from the side of my head. He took a good look at me, and I heard him gasp in awe.

“What? What does it look like?”

“Angel, you look like how papayas taste. Sweet and fruity.”

I snorted.

“Well, that's thanks to your good work. Thank you for being my mirror, treasure.”

“Yeah...man, I can't even imagine what I must look like, heh. Good thing you can't see me right now.”

“I'll be the judge of that.”

I touched to his face, feeling his ever-familiar traits. He was still the same as he's always been, nothing was off. Had his hair grown? It felt longer than the last time I took a closer feel at him. I ran my fingers through, letting that soft feeling invade my mind. It was so thick, I could burrow both of my hands in there...I definitely liked this.

“It suits you!”, I smiled. “You look handsome.”

“I guess that's your judgment.”

He sat next to me, to eagerly kiss my cheek and then rest his head on my shoulder. I carried on caressing his hair, feeling its knots and tangles in my fingers, planting light little kisses into it just because I felt like it. It was so silly, but we both were a little silly sometimes, and it greatly helped the mood. I started braiding his hair, simply because I wanted to, and that made him chuckle.

“I don't have hair long enough for that.”

“Grow it out some more, then. You'll look absolutely handsome.”

“I beg to differ...”

“I'm serious! I love boys with long hair. It's just so charming.”

“Oh, well, that's different, I guess.”

He messed with his hair a little.

“Man, I can't wait for the river to get warmer. I seriously need a bath...”

“We could go to the hot spring.”

“I don't want to have to trek across a jungle and a lake everytime I want to wash. Know what, as soon as I get the materials, I'll build something to get hot water at home.”

“We'd need metal. Or we could repurpose our water barrel into a boiler, but that's our water storage...”

He sighed, knowing this wouldn't be as easy as he'd plan. His head slowly dropped until it was resting on my lap, at which point I gave up braiding and simply caressed his hair. He seemed to like it, seeing how he nuzzled in closer, making himself comfortable.

I didn't like seeing him so worried. He was always so preoccupied with our survival, so much that I couldn't even fathom the amount of stress he was in. He'd come home late and on the brink of collapsing, for he'd stay out so long to forage for food or firewood. His efforts were what kept us afloat, but I couldn't help worrying. If we wanted to make it a long-term effort, we needed to manage our forces, especially since he was the only one who could explore the island.

“...you know, just because the hot spring is far doesn't mean we can't enjoy a little pampering.”

“What do you mean?”

I smiled, and simply patted the bed next to me, inviting him to sit. He did so with some confusion, leaving his comfy spot with regret. But before he could ask himself, I carefully pushed him down onto the bed, on his stomach.

“Wh- what are you doing?!”

“Taking care of you. Now stay still...”

“I don't think that's– oh...oh, okay. That works.”

My hands were quick to hold onto him. As I have suspected, his back was full of knots; since I was the ropemaker here, it would be my job to untie them. I worked my way down from his shoulders, letting my fingers rub into his tired muscles in small circles. And if at first he was doubtful, he very soon started to unwind under my touch.

I wanted him to know it was fine. That he could relax, that he didn't have to carry all of it on his shoulders alone. That I would be there for him, no matter what happened. But words wouldn't be enough to convey my thoughts; that's why my hands would do most of the talking.

I got a bit lower, working my palms into his sides, and he just melted like butter in my hands. I felt him exhale in a long, withheld sigh as his body burrowed deeper into the bed, the tension easing more and more as I progressed. I moved a bit to straddle his legs, as to have a better angle to work from, and focused some more on his shoulder blades. His back was rather toned, with all this climbing and lifting, and without a doubt he'd only feel even more handsome should my hands directly meet his skin.

The thought struck me as odd, but it also brought up that weird tingle in my gut again. I couldn't help but picture Keith laying half-naked among the furs of the bed, completely surrendering to my touch and entrusting himself to me. Oh goodness, was that even allowed? What was I thinking, gawking at him with my mind eye? I tried to chase that image away as I kept massaging, making sure he'd get the best care from me. And if I were to believe his peaceful breathing, it seemed to have made quite an impression.

I worked his back muscles for a good while, until I could feel most of the tension had gone away. At that point, he sat up and stretched, exhaling a pleased breath that quite pleased me.

“...thank you, angel. I didn't know I needed this!”

“It's natural. You deserve to take it easy.”

“You have such good hands...goodness, it's like my back's all marshmallows now.”

He freed himself from my straddling him, stretching some more.

“Now you've got to let me return the favor.”

“...what?”

“That's the least I can do. I don't have delicate hands like you, but...hey, I can try!”

I froze for a moment, not sure how to react. Would it be acceptable? A lot of bells in my head rang to shout that he shouldn't be doing such things, but those were bells I had to ignore. They came from a place of prejudice and antiquated values, not from what I was living now.

Hesitantly, I laid down in turn, letting him sit over me. Our position immediately awoke all sorts of improper thoughts, which prompted him to sit next to me instead. His hands touched to my back, and started rubbing around in circles, trying to copy what I had done.

It wasn't bad at all, in all honesty. He had large hands with lovely fingers, and a lot of strength packed in those arms. It felt more like chiropractic treatment than a spa massage, but it did the job just fine. I allowed myself to relax, breathing slowly and unwinding some, and this encouraged him to keep going.

But that did get me to think. We were partners, we have been for months. We had shared a lot of moments that have brought us closer together, through pain and joy alike. And we've sealed our fates together the moment we decided to stay on that island for good. But were we close enough to bridge a certain gap between us, and step further than we've ever had?

We were the only ones on this island. We were each other's only company. We were young, and young people make all sorts of mistakes. I could tell he had some similar thoughts, I could tell from the way he caressed me and touched me, I could tell from his body that wanted to get ever closer to mine but didn't dare to. I was very grateful that he didn't, for if he decided to get closer anyway, I didn't know how I would react. I still had too many doubts within me, that I knew would only make it harder for the both of us.

Keith was a good man. He'd never do anything to hurt me. Yet I knew that he desired me; I knew it from his touch, from all his touches, from his kisses and his embraces and all those little nothings that spoke so much louder than his words. And even if I wasn't yet ready to face it, I desired him too: I knew it from my way to caress him, to picture him, from how I would snuggle ever closer to him at night, from how I had just wished there would be no clothes between his skin and mine. I desired him, but I couldn't tell him; for those were not things to tell anyone, especially not the object of said desire. I was too afraid of where it would lead us, of whether it would escalate too quickly for me, and of so many things that have been ingrained in me about relationships in general. I desired him, and yet I could not come to terms with it, for I was a coward who couldn't make up her mind about what she wanted.

His hands were rubbing deep into my back. He was molding me like clay, and I wanted nothing more than to let him do as he pleased. I did not feel especially relaxed, but his touch was more solid than I've ever felt, and I could feel the weight of his upper body pressing into me. It felt oddly relaxing, and I felt so small in his grasp, but that wasn't a bad thing.

“Am I hurting you? I feel like your...um...your bra straps are in the way.”

Of course they were. But I hadn't said anything about it, because again, there were things that couldn't be said.

“It's fine, just ignore that.”

“If I keep going, it's gonna leave a mark.”

Why did he even care? Did he even have to mention it? I felt myself getting awkward where I shouldn't have.

“If you want to take it off, I promise I won't look.”

Ugh, why did he have to say that?! Now it only felt even more awkward. Just the thought of exposing myself even more, leaving me vulnerable in ways I never have, made me greatly uncomfortable. I squirmed a little, not knowing what else to do, and that seemed to get the message across.

“...I'll work around it, then.”

And his hands changed positions, to avoid pressing the straps into my skin.

The casualness of his answer surprised me a little. Have we gotten so good at unsaid communication, that he immediately knew how I felt? I wondered why he hadn't tried to weasel his way into unclothing me, when he had a prime opportunity to lay his hands on me. He couldn't be that good, could he? I mean, I was grateful he didn't attempt any of that. I was really grateful. But still, now that made me wonder if he even had such desires. Could it be he just wasn't interested in me that way? It could be...but then that would make other kinds of things more awkward.

There was no way around it, was it? Despite all my attempts at keeping a clear mind and a pure soul, I knew there was no other way forward but to talk about it. I wasn't clueless, I knew it was hypocritical to have fantasies about marriage and children without going onto that territory, but that's the kind of hypocrisy I was raised in.

His hands were on my lower back, working my spine in small motions. I doubt it was any sort of valid massage technique, but it didn't feel bad either. I propped my head up on my arms, thinking about what I was going to say, as his thumbs drew small circles up my sides. With a lesson or two about human anatomy, he soon would be working miracles.

I dreaded to think what else those hands were capable of.

“Say, Keith...”

“What is it?”

I didn't know how to say it without sounding stupid or malevolent. I didn't want him to think I was a pervert. But I'd rather have it come up now and then later again, than leave things unsaid for too long until they broke out somehow.

“I was wondering...you know we've been a pair for a while, you and I...”

We hadn't always kept track of time, so it was hard to say, but I knew we'd shipwrecked about eight or nine months ago, in mid-June, right after our final exams. This island seemed to be in the northern hemisphere, and we've recently left a short winter, so now we would be somewhere around February. Keith's birthday was in August, and we've officially become a couple during his late birthday celebration, which I would have pinned in fall. This meant that we've been together for about half a year; quite a milestone, I'd say.

“And...and you know I want us to be a pair for many more times to come. I don't know how long that will last, but...that's what I really want.”

“I want it too, angel. And I'll do my best to make it last.”

Always so optimistic. It did warm my heart a little.

“So...if we are to be a serious couple, I need to know something. It's been...bothering me for a while now, and...and I need to put my mind at rest about it.”

“What is it?”

I took a deep breath, so deep he could feel it through his hands, and exhaled slowly. He stopped rubbing, feeling that it was something important, and I searched for my words another moment.

“Do you...desire me?”

I could tell he didn't get it. Please, don't make me have to explain myself…

“Desire you? You mean...if I find you attractive?”

“Well...yes, but...more than just that.”

“What do you...ah, you mean…?”

I nodded, for he was probably on the right track.

“We've been sleeping together for many nights now, but...never that kind of sleeping together.”

“And...would you like us to?”

Again, so casual! Couldn't he see I was nearly killing myself in shame only talking about it?! My entire body ought to be red with embarrassment!

“I-I mean!”, I stammered. “I...I just wanted to know what you...what you'd think of it, you know? It's not an invitation or anything...I mean, it doesn't have to not be, but...”

Ugh. I was being such an idiot! I buried my face in my arms, trying to hide from the world and never reappear. I couldn't possible bear him looking at me right now! Yet his gaze was fixed on my back, and I felt it burning through my skin, the same he's been massaging so carefully just a moment ago.

Slowly, he stood up, and I thought he was leaving; but he sat down by the bed, closer to me yet much more distant at the same time.

“You want the truth?”

I knew I wouldn't bear to hear his words; but I needed to. I needed to put my mind at rest. So I let out a nodding noise, just a tiny one.

“...I'll be honest with you.”, he said. “I never had a girlfriend before, or a partner at all. I...don't know how those things are supposed to go. So for a while, I just did what you allowed me to do.”

It's so strange. He seemed so experienced with romance, and yet he actually had none? Has he been as lost as I was?

“I've always been careful. I never wanted to hurt you, or upset you or anything. I had the feeling you're the kind of girl that saves herself for marriage, and I'm totally fine with that.”

I didn't even know I was that kind of girl. Waiting until marriage was just something that had always made sense to me.

“We've made a few jokes about...putting a ring on it first, and whatnot, and honestly why not. But I've thought about it some more, and...it just doesn't seem safe.”

This time, I wasn't surprised by his words, but completely flabbergasted.

“What do you mean, it doesn't seem safe?”

“Think about it. We're on a deserted island, with no access to doctors or medicine. Our only solution when we get sick is to sleep it off and hope it gets better. So what if...what if we somehow get sick from each other? I don't know what I would do if that ever happened.”

His voice was laced with worry, in depths I hadn't even envisioned.

“There's no birth control either. Maybe there's alternatives, I know, but I'm no doctor, I can't magically whip up a pill from random plants. What would we ever do if you get pregnant? There's just so many wrong things with that possibility, and too many dangers.”

It only now dawned on me that he was absolutely right. I knew I've thought of having children with him, on this very island, but all my experiences with childcare have always happened in a world with doctors and hospitals. I suddenly felt very stupid, and only wanted to hide even more from my own thoughts, but that's when I felt his hand on mine.

“I love you, Skye. And I do wish we could take it further. But we have to keep ourselves safe first; so until I can show you the extent of my love in safe conditions, I will hold back my own desires. I...I'm sorry that it looks like I don't want of you, but I can't take any chances. I don't want to hurt you.”

Was he...crying? I sat up, and touched to his face, and it was moist. Alright, that's it; I cast my shame and self-pity aside, and dropped to his level as to tightly embrace him. He stayed frozen for a moment, but then returned it just as tight, and the warmth of his body enveloped me like the greatest reassurance of his love.

“I think you've already shown me quite the extent.”, I smiled through my own tearing eyes.

While I was there with my fantasies and muted desires, he was actually thinking things through and sacrificing his own feelings for my sake. This was not how I would ever have envisioned our island romance to go, but that was because it actually went way beyond that. It was our island love, which had none of the glimmer and rose tint. It was grimed with dirt, ash and sand, cold like a damp cave and dark like a lightless night. It was nothing perfect.

But it was the best it could ever be. Grime can be swept away with effort and patience, caves can be made into beautiful homes through hard work and commitment, and nights on an island away from everything were filled with stars. And that's why I wanted none other than this one.

“It must feel horrible.”, I said after a time. “Doesn't it...hurt? To be so close to me, yet unable to do anything?”

“I'm not an animal, angel. I'm perfectly able to control myself. All the physical contact we already have is more than enough.”

He gently brushed some hair out of my face.

“Why? Would you...would you like we…?”

I hid my face in his shoulder, muting a squeal of unease. Nope, no way, he wouldn't lead me there!

“...not before marriage.”, I eventually said, so silently that I'm not sure he even heard me. “I know it's dumb, but please give me that.”

“Why would that be dumb? It's obviously something you care about, just like I care about safety. If you want we wait, then we'll wait.”

He gently rubbed my back, still not done massaging me. I eased a little, shifting to sit more comfortably in his arms.

“Well...of course we have to wait. You're eighteen and I'm not, so not until November at least.”

“Does that mean we can't share a bed anymore?”

“If we don't do anything, that should still be fine. A few months won't make that big a difference, but I want to do things right.”

“Well, your wish is my command.”

And he kissed my forehead. I sighed, just leaning in his embrace, letting him do as he pleased with me. And it pleased him to treat me with kindness and respect, which is exactly why I could feel at ease with him.

He had my back. That's why he had all my heart as well. And he would have so much more, I knew that...but not now. That's all I asked.

~~~~~

The way Keith thought of our life plans in a responsible and realistic manner did strike a chord in me. He was right: we couldn't live in a fantasy, we had to face things as they were. We had to do not what we wanted, but what would be right and feasible.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I encouraged him in his idea to set up a small farm. Nothing fancy or large, merely some crops that could help us get through rougher times. We spent days preparing the terrain, shoveling the earth with flat stones and burying food leftovers and leaves to prepare a plot. Neither of us knew about farming beyond how not to kill a potted plant, but if we wanted to learn, we shouldn't wait until it was too late. The sooner we got started, the sooner we'd be ready to handle that task.

We started easy, with carrots and potatoes which could handle this kind of soil. There were many other vegetables on the island, but since they grew in different areas, there was no guarantee they could thrive in river grounds. By the end of the week, the plot had taken a nice shape, and he described it looking like the feeling of work well-done. My hands were dirty and my feet were sore, but I knew it would be worth it. All our efforts would be rewarded.

Yet obviously, it wouldn't be so easy. If the carrot heads and potato pieces felt fine at first, they withered out in a few days to our great dismay. What could possibly have happened? Have we not watered them enough? Was the soil somehow bad? There was no telling what we've done wrong, and it was what frightened me the most.

“Well...we can try again.”, Keith said. “Weed out the bad ones, try something else.”

That was the spirit of trial and error. Of course we wouldn't succeed the first time. But we had to keep going, not let it discourage us. Success was a road paved with failures, after all; we'd eventually learn from it all. In a few months, when we'd harvest our first grown carrots, we'd laugh about it and happily reminisce our beginnings.

We had to.

The island was before all an untamed place. It was a piece of a wild world, one that couldn't be conquered by human hand. We couldn't force nature to bend to our will, only coax it in the right direction. Nothing we did would be entirely up to us, and that was the sad part about even our best efforts. But that didn't mean we wouldn't try, and try again until it eventually succeeded. That's what we've always done. That's how we were meant to do, and how to grow as people.

Yet I could feel that it wouldn't go smoothly. We were coming out of winter, and our food sources were slowly recovering, but crops took a long time to grow. If we didn't master the way before those plants become unavailable in the wild, we could run into more trouble.

Meanwhile, I kept thinking about another conundrum: how to get hot water whenever we needed. Even if I could make a bucket out of wood or bamboo, it would never hold long enough over a fire for water to boil. And even if we decided to sacrifice our water barrel, I had no idea of how we could process it into a more manageable size. This felt like a riddle, and one I wasn't quite happy with: easily-available hot water would help us a lot with staying clean. In a world without doctors, we needed to take care of our own health. Plus, even though river water was seemingly clear, I would feel safer if we could purify it beforehand, just to be sure. But there was no practical way we could do that.

One afternoon, as I was cleaning my cooking gear of our food scraps, a thought struck me while I was scrubbing the clay pot we used as a soup dish. I knew it was engraved with some pattern, that I traced with my fingers pensively; Keith told me it was a map of lake Caldera. I never paid it much attention, being always focused on not breaking it, but today an idea struck me. When Keith came back from his hunting trip that evening, I told him about it.

“I found it by the lake. Just past the jungle.”

“It's engraved with a map of the lake. The people of the island obviously made it.”

“Well, yeah. That's the point.”

“But if they made that pot here, on the island, it means they had the materials to do so. They knew where to find pottery clay. So if we were to find some as well...”

I didn't even need to finish that thought. He immediately made the connection, gasping slightly.

“We could make our own! Skye, that's brilliant!”

I chuckled, allowing myself some pride.

“But, what could we make clay pots for?”

“For instance, we could have a vessel meant for boiling water. This one works fine, but it can only carry so little. It's not practical.”

“And...would you know how to make one?”

“...I briefly remember sixth grade pottery class? Just like you, I guess I'll have to try things out until it works.”

“I have to admit, if that works, it'd be great. My hands feel like they're permanently covered in dirt, now...I could really use a soapy bath.”

“Don't expect a bathtub anytime soon. It'll be a dry shower at best.”

“That's still better than nothing.”

“As for soap, I know it can be made from ashes and fat, but honestly I don't guarantee it will work.”

“Trial and error, angel. Trial and error.”

He chuckled.

“Seems we've got it pretty good. Farm crops, hot water, dishes, soap...is that what we can call island life?”

“That's how we live our life, which is on an island. So it technically is island life.”

I nudged his arm.

“What, you thought we would spend our lives eating shellfish and drinking raw river water like animals? We have hands, we have knowledge, and we have standards: we might as well use them!”

“I doubt you have any standards. If you had, you wouldn't have settled for me.”

“What? Of course I would!”

“You say that, but we all know a well-shaped bamboo stick could be a better boyfriend than I am.”

It took me a few seconds to get it, at which I playfully pushed him back onto the bed. He laughed like an idiot at my reaction, and tugged on my arm to bring me down as well. We started play-fighting with our dirty hands and laughing faces, slapping around at random and rolling around like angry cats, until I found myself pinned under him and my hands firmly locked in his grasp.

“Well, just because I'm the only possible boyfriend you can have on this island doesn't mean I won't strive to be the best.”, he panted. “I won't lose to a mere bamboo stick!”

He released my hands, and instead embraced me, resting his weight on me. It was a little suffocating, but oh so overwhelmingly good as well. I lost my hands in his hair, bringing him closer in, letting him move to kiss the side of my face and neck all over. He knew how to make me feel good, and I absolutely loved it.

“You meet all my standards, treasure.”, I reassured. “All of them.”

“Only meet them? That's not enough. I want to exceed them!”

And he resumed kissing, and I resumed enjoying his presence and his being wrapped all around mine. It was harder to top off his current efforts, and I was fully content with my luck. Life was worth it, love was worth it too, and this guy was worth all of my own best efforts.

I would try. I would give it my all. And I would succeed.

~~~~~

The next few months were obviously busy with lots of important attempts. We had a lot of projects to work on, many of which would require time or resources, and we couldn't afford to waste any of our days; adding to that the usual search for food, twigs and materials needed for our daily lives, we'd always go to bed late and tired.

Upon investigating various areas of the island, Keith had found out a small patch of clay mud by the lake. After testing it and finding out it could indeed be shaped and hardened in fire, I immediately set to work to make something of it. Making pottery was harder than I'd have thought, and more than once it ended up in a watery mess, but with time and effort I managed to get the texture just right. To work it into something useful would take a bit longer, since it might require a second, dedicated firepit, but my first attempts at baking it showed that even though all of my pots cracked into a mess of shards, the clay itself was the right kind. That was at least a step in the right direction.

Keith kept trying out various techniques for our farm plot. He couldn't just plant anything into the dirt and have it take root instantly; learning patience was perhaps his greatest flaw. I kept reassuring him that plants have been surviving just fine without people to check on them every hour, and that he shouldn't worry himself to death, but he was harder to soothe down than an angry stallion. Eventually, a few plants showed signs of growing just fine, and that finally convinced him to step down a little and let nature do its job.

One day that we were crossing the river together, one of my sandals slipped off and got carried away. By the time we got to the river's mouth, it was already well gone. I told him it was fine, that they were already well-worn from all our trekking, but that didn't sit right with him. That only made him more thoughtful and worried, and I hated to cause him more trouble. I then had the idea to weave together new sandals out of bamboo, since I already had experience with it; my first attempt looked the part, but felt uncomfortable and not very practical. However, that did give him a few ideas, and he tried in turn to build something that could last me. Inspiration however didn't fully strike until a couple days later, and he spent the day at his worktable cutting and shaving wood, in one of those furniture-building frenzies he knew well.

An entire day and four swearwords later, he was done: and just like Cinderella's prince, he got to slip a beautiful shoe at my foot. Wooden shoes, modeled after Japanese getas, held together with rope. They were a little big, but that was only a first pass, just to get the shape and size right. That did made me wonder just how far he would be willing to go to make sure I was comfortable, but it was so endearing. Anyone could buy their girlfriend shoes, but making them from scratch so that they fit perfectly was a whole new level of romantic. Even if it drastically improved my chance of hearing some choice curse words whenever he hurt his fingers, but I was long used to it.

Just as long as he didn't use that kind of language anywhere near our children.

I knew it wouldn't happen, even years after we eventually get married. Even though of quality of life was slowly increasing with each breakthrough, there was no way we could safely raise a baby in those conditions. I didn't even know if I could carry a child to term and deliver it without putting either of us in danger. Complications happened all the time, even with top-notch medical equipment and doctors, so on a deserted island? I felt stupid for ever thinking I could risk it.

But even if it all were to go smoothly, and nothing bad happened during all of their childhood, what would happen next? Would it be fair to raise a child in this situation, where all they'd ever know would be the island and the endless sea around it? Surely there have been babies and children native to the island, but those were part of a society, with many people and families. Keith and I with our best efforts would never replace the rest of the world; our child would have no friends, no partner, no children of their own. They'd have parents, but we would die someday, and leave them entirely alone. And if we told them about the outside world, how would they feel? Would they try to reach for it, return to a place they've never known? Would they resent us for abandoning a perfectly fine life and stranding ourselves here, cut off from everything? We couldn't tell them there was nothing out there either: it was cruel, almost cult-like in its fashion, and there were obvious signs of the opposite. Planes still trailed the sky, man-made bottles still washed up on the sand, and even if we preferred not to talk about it, soldiers were still setting up bases in the shadows of our island. I would never be able to keep up such a twisted lie.

It would all stay a fantasy, one I buried in the confines of my heart. I didn't even know why I had it; perhaps it was the weight of my mother's expectations and her views on what I should and shouldn't do. She treated marriage as the highest goal I could ever achieve, and claimed the importance of family while hypocritically giving no care about me. Perhaps I knew within myself that if I ever became a mother, I would be better than her, for I would actually try. I have indeed envisioned such a future, in my past years, so perhaps it still remained. This time, though, there was no way I could be a stay-at-home mother whose rich husband took care of everything. If I tried, I would starve to death and that's the end of it. Talk of a blunt way to get me to work.

I didn't mind. I loved it, in fact. I loved making myself useful, and contributing to our survival. It made me feel alive like nothing else. I had an active role in my own life, my decisions had weight and importance, and I was listened to and respected for what I said. I doubt any other life would have provided me with this chance. But I knew my hypothetical child would maybe not feel the same, for they wouldn't have lived what I've lived. I'd understand. The grass is always greener on the other side, after all.

I was happy to have grass at all. It would be my job to help it flourish, until the entire world knew there was nothing greener than what we'd have built on our island.

~~~~~

Work kept us thoroughly busy through all of spring. We had hit a steady rhythm, and could manage to juggle between our daily tasks and our experiments without too much trouble. With time it became second nature, and I could feel it growing ever steadier in the future.

The vegetable crops showed mixed results. Carrot tops showed lush greens, but no roots at all, to Keith's great dismay. Turns out they couldn't grow in both directions at once. However, some of the potatoes had germinated, and even started to yield small tubers. This wouldn't be enough to feed us just yet, but at least we were on the right start. Just in case, he started to plant some more, trying to recreate whatever successful trick he's pulled off. He also replaced carrots with onions and raspberries from the plains, feeling they would give us an easier time. It wasn't an entire success, but growing from one's failures was always needed. I mean, that's thanks to him that I found out carrot greens can make for a lovely salad.

Any food was lovely, when eaten from a real plate after months of using leaves. Well, whatever we had were more of lumpy discs in the vague shape of plates, but it still made meals quite easier, and much more convivial too, almost like normalcy was slowly coming back into our lives. He's helped me build a pottery oven, which was just a half-buried firepit a safe distance outside, and most of my pieces didn't turn out so bad. They were of a lovely ash-patterned color, “like the juicy yet slightly grainy flesh of breadfruit”, and after a good wash they were of a pleasant texture as well. This was very encouraging: if we could make pots, we'd have much more storage space for food. We could store vegetables in a dry, cool corner of the cave, which would come in handy for winter. Perhaps with enough skill, I could even make a teapot? There was no tea on this island, but hot water with honey or raspberries would be very delightful.

And speaking of hot water, a great breakthrough happened when I first managed to make a good enough vessel for boiling water. At last, we could get clean from the comfort of our home, and wash away all that grime and sweat without struggling in the cold river.

Although that time, there would be no sharing of space whatsoever. As the first pot of water was finishing boiling to a clean standard, Keith started to act a little strange. Eventually, he told me that he would be over on the beach to try out a new fishing rod, which should give me plenty of time. I didn't understand at first, but eventually agreed with him when I realizde what he meant.

It was so strange. We've shared a room, a bed, a life for months now, and we still were not at a point where we could comfortably undress around one another. Well, I wouldn't complain: the more I thought about it, the redder I felt my face growing. He was considerate enough to think about it for me, and I couldn't thank him enough for that.

I sat on the unused bed, undressed entirely, and soaked an old piece of fur in hot water to go right at it. It wasn't the most convenient way ever to take a bath, but it would do just fine. All I wanted was to get all that sweat and dirt off, now that I had the chance.

There was so much grime on my body that I felt it had grown on me like a second skin. I felt scars and scabs in places I didn't remember getting any, hair growing where it shouldn't have been, and muscles that definitely weren't there before. It was hard to tell just from touch if I had changed that much, but I knew I had. Not just from neglecting my appearance, but from all that I've lived since I came here. Running across beaches, eating nothing but fish and plants, abandoning all sorts of comforts from my old life...oh, just thinking of it made we want chocolate and ice cream again. I don't think I could even remember what those tasted like. Perhaps it was a good thing, but I wouldn't dwell on it too much. For now, I kept scrubbing, scrubbing and scrubbing until my skin felt red and sore, until I was sure the water was brown with mud and sweat.

It wasn't easy, but goodness did it feel good!

I tried getting as much of the job done as I could, even though I knew I had missed many parts. But in the end, I felt pretty satisfied. Drying myself with the pelt blanket, I allowed myself a comfortable moment before putting my clothes back on. Those would need a wash too, but unfortunately I had left my laundry day suit on the mainland. There might only be the two of us here, but there was no way I'd ever let Keith see me like that.

Well. Again, not before marriage. And maybe even then, not a chance.

Knowing the water was now dirty and half-spilled, I figured it was only fair I went to grab more. I hoisted up the pot and headed to the river to clean it and fill it again; that's when the rustle of seashells walked closer.

“Why, you look absolutely dashing.”, he chuckled. “How was it?”

“Pretty good. I might need soap if I want to get a more thorough scrubbing done, though.”

“Yeah, well...maybe it's best we do without for now. I'm not trying that again for a while.”

Maybe it was best indeed. Waking up around midnight to Keith sobbing to himself over a messy pot, hands covered in fat and soot, gave me very little hope as to how we could ever get soap one day.

“You'll make it one day. But for now, it's your turn.”

I stood up, holding a clean pot of water. He picked it from me, and gave me his arm to hold onto as we walked back to the cave. The fire was still up, the water would be warm enough in about ten minutes.

“I'll leave you now.”, I said. “It's a lovely day outside, I might get some ropework done on the beach.”

“Are you sure? It's not like you can peep at me.”

I feigned a random fit of coughing, to not have to answer that. He was joking, of course, but I wasn't sure it was even funny.

“I'm kidding, angel. Take your time.”

“Right.”

I grabbed what ropes I've been working on, mumbled a few confused words of goodbye, and made my way to the beach to sit in the sun. It was warm and welcome, and would finish drying me up quickly.

In all honesty, the fact I couldn't go on exploration with him had its advantages. We were already spending our nights together, so being always hand in hand would quickly annoy us more than anything. If we wanted to last, we also needed to spend some time apart, as to better enjoy our moments together. We each had our own things, and it always brought some fascinating conversations in the evening. That, and we both needed our intimacy as well. He could claim all he wanted that he was resisting his desires through sheer willpower, but even I knew how young men liked to spend their alone time.

I wonder what my brother was doing, in that very moment. I'd forgotten about him in my letter to the world, for we never had the most amicable of relationships. In fact, I doubt we ever had a relationship at all: we barely interacted, even in our own home, especially after my sight started deteriorating. I've always thought he was a bit of a jerk; but perhaps he simply didn't know how to act around me anymore. He wasn't a bad person, and I knew that deep down, he cared about me.

Without noticing it, I started humming a small tune, that I've heard coming from his room more than once when he was having one of those rebellious teenage moods. We didn't have the same tastes in music, but at that point I'd be ready to listen to anything, to break from the constant song of the tide on the sand.

As I kept braiding, my humming turned into a full-fledged song. I followed a melody at random, simply singing words I thought would go well with it. No intent or meaning, only a voice that wanted to be let out, if only to give me something nice to hear. No thoughts, only syllables.

“When I close my eyes...I see that sky.”

A sky so blue and beautiful, the same I remembered. It would never change, not even in complete darkness.

“When I listen closely, I hear that ocean...”

The tide lapped at the sand, as if to sing in rounds with me; that everlasting companion, the background noise to all my thoughts and words.

“It embraces me gently, while it colors...”

I thought of another kind of embrace, that would wrap around me when I needed it the most. I would love to feel it right in this instant, to remind me that I wasn't alone.

“While it colors, colors the world blue...”

That didn't mean anything. But I couldn't care less; I was happy in the moment, lost in my work and in my thoughts, and I felt nice. I felt content with myself, knowing everything would be fine. Our first days of struggling to survive were far behind us; now we could afford to enjoy our time a little more. We could enjoy that life we had, that we would have for perhaps many more years to come. One little breakthrough at a time, we would make it a life worth living.

No one would ever force us out of it.

~~~~~

A special day eventually came at the onset of summer. One I thought I would never get to see, that has always felt so distant to me, and that we've reached without I ever noticed it. I hadn't been keeping exact track of time either, and there was no way to check whether or not it was the correct date, but we both knew in our hearts that it was today.

Today marked exactly one year since we've shipwrecked here.

Looking back, I couldn't help but think of all the events that had played out. Our adventure had been a crazy one, that I never thought I would ever get to live, and yet it happened. Against all odds, we've survived, we've faced fate and fought it head on. We've built on this island something strong and resilient, to claim we were alive and thriving. And we've decided that it would not be survival anymore: it would be life. It would be something we would do together, away from judgments and people's thoughts, the greatest “buzz off” to everything that had wanted to bring us down. I for one could not be more proud to have made it one first year, and still be ready for many more to come.

We weren't sure of how to celebrate this first anniversary. It was grounds for celebration, of course, but any traditional ideas we might have had were simply unfeasible. No place to go hang out at, no music to dance to, not even grain to possibly bake a cake with. I thought it would go just like any other day, and it was a little sad too; but in the evening, Keith came back home to excitedly show me something.

He's brought back from the plains what I thought was a wooden stick; but it turned out to be a tree. A small tree with leaves and roots, that he's decided to carefully unearth. And if I was a little confused, I thought it made for a pretty symbolic imagery indeed.

We planted it together, near the entrance of the cave. It would get lots of sunlight, nice weather and the river right by. It was so small and scrawny, poor little thing competing with its bigger siblings in the plains, but now we would take good care of it. And it would grow along with us, like a mark of our passage on that island.

“We could make it our celebration.”, I proposed. “Every year, we plant another tree. And with time, we'll have our own little forest.”

“That sounds great! They might even offer extra insulation against the wind.”

Those were the kind of projects I loved best. Those turned towards the future, ready to offer a long-term change to our life, even a small one. Little butterfly wingbeats that would reap great rewards in the years to come.

Maybe one day, this tree will grow big enough to let a swing hang from its branch.

~~~~~

Summer came. The raspberry bush seemed to do rather well, and was already bearing its first fruits. Of course, there weren't enough to make proper preserves, but more than enough to replant for autumn. The idea of fresh raspberry jam on breadfruit toast gave me many domestic fantasies, most of which were just out of reach. Breadfruit didn't taste anything like bread, sadly, but we could still do with. As for onions and potatoes, they were growing steadily, and already making their first appearances in our food. It was a promising development, and would be even more so in the following months.

Fishing was going well, too. Since we now had an easy way to obtain salt from seawater, we had the idea of using it to preserve some of our catch for later. With both salting and smoking, we would have a good supply of meat and fish for winter, or just for days where we'd get tired of the usual stuff. In my opinion, the moment we can afford to put food away and still be sated on the daily is when we're doing well in terms of survival. It was reassuring to know we weren't starving by any means, and could plan for the next few months instead of the next few days. We were past living in the present and being in constant need, and this only made my mood greater.

The heat of summer kept rising, becoming unbearable at times. Those were the few days where I wouldn't mind the cold splash of water all over my body, even though it would not be proper. So I restricted myself to only splashing my face, and then again making sure my hair was done just right. Just because I was a castaway farmer and crafter didn't mean I had to neglect myself.

It did start as nothing but a small plot for vegetables, but that farm idea really knew how to stick. One day while checking the basket traps, I saw one had caught something fluffy, round and bawking. It looked like it's hurt its leg, and felt so small in my hands that it just wasn't worth killing to me. Whenever I got my hands on a squirrel or a mouse, I'd always hesitate about whether or not to deal the final blow, but this time I hesitated more than ever. I thought about releasing this bird, but it obviously wouldn't go far. That's when I caved in, and decided to keep it.

It was fairly docile, all things considered. A little feisty, but with a few worms and berries, I got it to not bite me anymore. I didn't know there were chickens on this island, it just seemed so strange to me. Then again, maybe the natives have imported them from elsewhere. I wouldn't be surprised, seeing as there were goats as well. It kept trying to go away, but I kept it busy with food so it wouldn't slip out of my touch, at least until Keith came back.

Needless to say, he was very surprised. A live chicken? I could just feel his confusion. But perhaps, if we took good care of it, we could eventually get eggs? Just thinking of all the ways we could prepare eggs made me immediately want to try.

“It will be my birthday gift to you.”, I smiled. “An authentic English breakfast, with bacon and fried eggs.”

He snorted, and I knew it was going well. Plus, having a bit of company around the house would do us great good, even if it was as simple as a chicken hanging out by the cave.

Maybe I would try my hand at caring for another creature, and see if I was actually good at it. Best not to jump into anything unprepared, after all.

~~~~~

Just when I got used to warm weather, it started getting colder again. Crazy how fast time could fly, right? I was so busy in my work that I barely noticed it. It felt like every day was the same, but it wasn't a bad thing. I liked regularity, I liked my routine, and I wouldn't have minded keeping it for a while longer too.

When autumn rolled around, Keith got out his needle and thread, and started working on getting us something more comfortable before all animals were gone for the winter. My old clothing was holding on its last threads, and I had to admit I couldn't be more grateful to get something new. Deer hide was surprisingly soft, and I felt like a princess when I tried on the dress he made for me over the course of three days and five swearwords. I looked “like the crunchy taste of hazelnuts by a warm day of fall”, and snuggled the life out of him that night out of sheer happiness. How wonderful to have someone who looked out for me, and still loved me after an entire year spent together.

“I'll never be thankful enough for you. For all you've done for me, and for us.”

“It's natural, angel. I'll always be there.”

I believed him. I would be ready to believe him forever, for he had all my trust.

Some weeks later, however, he started acting a little strange. He spent a lot of time outside, even more so than usual, and would often be out for days. He always made sure to warn me, and I already had plenty of food and work to be on my own, but that still felt a little odd. What could he be doing that was so secret? Usually he'd always tell me where he was going, or what he had the intent to do. But now, all he would tell me was that he'd be back very late, and that I shouldn't wait for him.

I knew it was stupid to get wary, but I couldn't help it. It just made no sense. I knew he wasn't cheating on me, there was absolutely no one on this island but the two of us. But then, I had to remind myself that there were other people, and that's where my doubts started to turn into worry.

The smell of volcanic gas was all over his clothes, slight but present. He'd ventured beyond the lake, perhaps even beyond the temple. Had he stepped foot on the military base? The one filled with soldiers ready to capture him? That'd explain why he hadn't spoken a word of it to me: he knew it would make me worried or angry. I didn't even know which of these I had to feel. I tried speaking about it with him over dinner, but he dismissed it, and said that he was merely exploring around the jungle. I knew he was lying, for there were no sulfuric pits in the jungle. Only beyond.

To go into the military base only meant danger. What could he possibly want there, that would be worth risking capture or worse? Could it be that he was still after that boat he told me about? That wouldn't explain why he'd spend maybe days out there. Was he playing some kind of long con? That was just insane! I couldn't believe what was going on, and it hurt to know.

I started to think the worst things. I thought about him getting onto that boat and sailing away without telling me, abandoning me to worry about whether he'd ever come back. He couldn't be so cruel! I know this was just my panicked brain thinking in anxiety and self-doubt, but it still left a strong image in my mind. My dreams got tainted with it too, and more than once I woke up in fear that indeed, he was gone for good. But he's always come back, even though it was merely for a moment in otherwise lonely days.

He'd always come back sad and tired, as if he's failed to achieve something. As cruel as it was, it gave me a bit of hope: whatever his endeavors were, I wouldn't know about them if he were to fail. It was selfish, I knew so, but if he refused to tell me what could be so important that it'd warrant all of his time, I'd indulge in that selfishness until things returned to normal. In those moments where we failed to connect, I'd feel the first wedges start to gap between us.

We've never fought before. We've been annoyed at each other, or tense or clashing, but our need for teamwork always triumphed of those moments. We couldn't afford to be cleaved apart by mere squabbles, and we've always worked a solution to everything. Sometimes it was as simple as a talk or a compromise, and most of the time he let my needs go first. I wasn't a confrontational person either, but I obviously needed time getting used to new elements or situations, which would always come up at some point with him. It made life never get boring, but all those unprompted surprises had their downsides too.

I didn't know what to think about his attempts at escape. Why would he want to leave the island, now that we've had a good life going? Was he that afraid to tell me about it? It made no sense. I knew he missed his family, and perhaps just modern life too, but that didn't explain why he'd never tell me about it. Did he think I would always shut him down? I made attempts to talk to him, but he didn't return them, saying it was fine. That's when I started to doubt myself and my paranoid thoughts, and it didn't make things any easier.

The more time passed, and the more he started to get stressed. The smell of volcanic gas was omnipresent, and I could tell it caused him all that coughing. I did my best to take care of him and confine him to bed, but he'd always manage to get exploring again. It hurt to know that whatever he was doing was eating away at his health, and that I couldn't do anything to stop him. I remember crying, crying like an idiot from all I was feeling and that I couldn't even vent out. I wouldn't know what I'd do if I ever lost him, if one day he left and never came back.

And then, one day, he stopped going out. Besides his usual rounds for firewood and vegetables, he was spending all his time at home. Again, there were no words, no explanations, only his chipper behavior coming back. He'd be at his workbench all day, not offering any description of his work besides very vague ones, and it frustrated me to no end. I couldn't get anything out of him, and that thoroughly confused me. Well...glad he got what he wanted? I didn't feel anything different about him or the house, so much that this entire ordeal could have easily passed as a dream. It felt like one, honestly; but this time, he was back to sleeping with me, embracing my nightmares away. It felt good, of course, but I wasn't sure I could ever forgive him for doing this to me in the first place. He felt it, of course, and his best attentions were always at the ready, but I wasn't sure this feeling of doubt would ever go away.

Until I learned what he's been doing all this time.

~~~~~

It was a cold evening of late fall. Night was falling sooner and sooner, and it was hard to get anything done by sunlight. It has been another tiring day, cleaning and preparing some pottery I had set to bake the night before, salvaging those that were not cracked so we could start preserving autumn vegetables. Keith had been out for a while, but told me he would be back soon, and I trusted him. I was ready to go to bed early, but we needed to feed so we'd wake up in good enough shape. Tonight was a simple dinner of steamed vegetables, but it did feel good in those cold days.

However, as I was getting ready to go to sleep, he told me he wanted to show me something.

I was a bit doubtful at first, but now I was curious as well. Show me something, at that hour? Not like it would matter to me, but that still felt weird. Sure, if he wanted to, but at this point I didn't know what to expect.

He led me outside, towards the other side of the river. My coat kept me dry and my sandals handled the wet surface well, but I wasn't sure of where we were headed. There was nothing peculiar on that side, except for vegetables, bamboo branches and firewood.

But then, there was still the lifeboat.

I remembered it; this was the boat I came on when I first arrived at the island. I've been drifting for a while, carried by the currents until I reached land, and Keith had found me on that very beach. I couldn't help but look at those moments with a certain fondness, for that was our very first meeting. Since then, the boat hadn't moved, even when the tide was high and the rains pouring. I suspected he'd secured it in hopes of using it to escape, back when this was still our goal. Obviously, we've thought about doing so in our early weeks, but then we would be lost at sea with no map, little food and no way to steer back to land. It would only have ended in disaster.

I started to connect some dots in my head. Was this...what he's been planning to do? Secure our way to escape? That'd explain why he's been sneaking out to the base...and it made me feel horrible.

As expected, he led me to the boat. We sat on the bouncy edge, not moving or anything, and I was a little surprised. Is that what he wanted to show me? I wasn't sure I liked it, to be honest. But then again, I didn't know what was it he wanted. He wasn't making himself exactly clear either; I could feel he wanted to speak, but didn't. I figured that I would let him find his words, for maybe it would clear it all up.

“Do you...remember, the first day we were on the island?”

I nodded.

“It was dreadful. I wasn't sure I'd ever make it.”

“Neither did I. And yet, here we are now...a pretty good survival record on our track. It's been more than a year, now, I mean!”

“A year and a half, I would say.”

The nights were definitely longer than days, which meant we were well into autumn. I'd have said around November, if the cold temperature was of any indication.

“I remember the day I met you.”, he continued. “I was so relieved to find there were other people! It brought me joy that I'd never forget...it brought me hope. You've brought me hope, angel.”

His hand rested on mine, and his thumb gave the tiniest of caresses. I could tell he was happy, like a dog wagging its tail. It made me smile, even if I didn't know why exactly.

“Since then, you've always been by my side. You've reassured me, you've cared for me, you...you did all sorts of things that I'll forever be grateful for. I would never have done this without you.”

“You give me too much credit...”

“But it's the truth! I've wanted to give up so many times, but every time, you were here. You helped me in ways I could never achieve by myself. And I’ll always be in your debt for all you've done.”

This was way too much. Why was he saying all of that, now? What did he have in mind? I didn't know, but his words were sincere, I could tell. And I felt happy that they were, for I shared his feelings.

“When you spoke of staying on this island forever...well, I was a little sad. But that meant we could make something of ourselves here. We could build a life we maybe never would have known, had we chosen to leave. I was so preoccupied with everything I've left behind, that I hadn't even realized what I had with me all along.”

“Wait. You...don't want to leave?”

“Leave?”

I could feel the surprise in his tone. But then, his voice eased into a giggle.

“Angel, why would I ever leave? I like this life we have. I like making plans, and working hard to achieve them. I'm doing things I'd never have thought possible, and I feel the best I've ever felt. I'd follow you wherever you go, and if you want to stay here, then I'll stay too.”

“But you've been acting so weird, recently...you've been sneaking out to the base, haven't you?”

“Wh...what gave you that idea?! As if I'd do something so crazy!”

I was truly taken aback. He wasn't lying, this time.

“I know I haven't been very talkative these days...but I had something in mind. Something I wanted to pour all my strength into. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you sooner, but I wanted it to be a surprise.”

His hand tightly held mine.

“Do you know what day it is, today?”

I shook my head. Keeping track of months was already hard enough, so I wouldn't be able to tell days apart even with a calendar…

...unless? No, it couldn't be. My calculations would be off by two weeks at least. But I saw no other possibility.

“Wait, you mean...you've been sneaking out and keeping such secrets, just for a birthday surprise?”

“Bullseye, darling.”

He chuckled, and stood up in front of me. I felt him fumble around a bit, and taking something from his pocket. He knelt in front of me, took my hand, and brought it to what he was holding in his palm.

“Can you take a guess as to what it is?”

I took it in my fingers. It was...small, and smooth. It had a complicated shape, something bulky with a loop attached to it. I felt the shape, and it had a pointy side and a rounded one. It felt smooth at first touch, but as I passed my fingers over it, I noticed it had little asperities. Little sides, like a sharpened stone.

A thought struck me. Slowly, I tried slipping my finger into the loop, and it fit right in. I froze for a moment, not knowing how to react, and that's when I felt Keith's hands on mine.

“I did not venture out to the base, angel. I was spending my days at the volcanic cave, beyond the lake. For only there could I find those beautiful obsidian stones.”

I felt the bulky shape again. It was hard, and made under my nail the same sound as glass or ceramic. Was it...was it really a gemstone? I tried picturing the shape again, and then realized I had it upside down: it was a heart. This was a ring, with a carved obsidian heart as its centerpiece.

“I bound my fate to yours the moment we decided to stay together. The moment we renounced going back into the world, and be just the two of us. That day, we made a promise that we would be there for one another...and today, I want to set that promise in stone.”

Gently, he held my left hand. His own were shaking, trembling with emotion as he spoke those words I thought I'd never hear from him.

“I love you. I love you so much, I want nothing more but to make you happy...I want you to be part of my life, just like I would be part of yours. That's why I...why I'm asking you today: Skye Bright, will you marry me?”

And that's when all the dams broke down, and me along with it.

I didn't know what I had intended to do, or how I envisioned the next second going. All I knew was that one moment, I was sitting on the lifeboat's edge holding a ring in my trembling fingers; and the next, we had both fallen into the grass, and I had my arms furiously wrapped around him. I was crying, but those were far from tears of pain: they were tears of joy, of relief, of sheer and unmistakeable happiness. In that moment, I felt as if wings had grown out of my back, and I would be ready to fly if I merely wished to, as long as I was holding onto him like he was my lifeline. And soon, his confusion vanished and his own feelings turned into mine, and his arms came to rest right where my wings would be. For it was him who gave me the power to fly, and to carry on flying despite everything.

“You big silly!”, I cry-laughed, burrowing my face in his shoulder. “I was so scared of what this was all about! Can you even imagine how I feel right now?!”

“Well, I sure can feel it.”, he replied in a slightly suffocated voice. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course it's a yes, you dummy! What did you expect?”

I didn't know why I started laughing. I must have looked so crazy right now! And yet he laughed with me, and his laughter sounded to me like the most beautiful thing in the world. I wanted nothing more but to fill my ears with it, to always feel that same bliss that held onto us in that moment, just like I was holding onto him, and he was holding onto me, and we would always hold onto each other...goodness, how could it be that I wanted to laugh and cry so much at the same time? I couldn't even understand what was happening to me! But I didn't care, for I was happy it happened at all. I couldn't care less about labeling my emotions right now. To be with him was an emotion of its own, and I wanted to feel nothing but this one for the rest of my life.

~~~~~

The next weeks were filled with bliss, one typical of a newly-engaged couple. As winter was approaching, we had a lot of work to do before we could start thinking of any possible wedding plans, and it was best we waited for spring. But that didn't make the wait any less filled with love.

I couldn't believe it was finally happening. My fantasies were catching up to me, and becoming real: my boyfriend would soon graduate to a husband. It was still rather early in my life, and I wondered if it was a good idea at all, but at least we got to talk things seriously and thoroughly once the initial squee-filled joy had passed. Just because we were only the two of us didn't mean we had to rush things.

Nothing stopped us from waiting as long as we wanted. We were both adults now, and could make our own decisions. A fiancé was as good as a husband, and it wouldn't really change anything to our daily life. But I knew I wanted to walk that step, if he was okay with it. I wanted to get married, to solidify our promise to one another. And only thinking of it hatched so many more butterflies in me.

Having to wait some time before making any further decisions proved to be a relief. It gave us time to share our dreams, our aspirations, our expectations of life. I shyly confided some of my domestic fantasies, and to my surprise I wasn't met with dismissal. We were already living a household dream, a ring wouldn't change anything. If anything, it could only confirm what we already knew. But it would make things feel a little more special, too.

To my great surprise, he's thought about those kind of things too. He's already pictured a married life on the island, complete with children and a tamed chicken or two. Seems that taking care of Polly had rubbed off on him, and it was just adorable. He had that caring fiber to him, and I knew he would make for a good father; at least in a few years. It was definitely too soon to concretize that one dream, on many planes. But at least, we now knew our expectations and dreams were overlapping enough to build a great life.

Of course, discussing our life plans also involved getting onto some topics I was less comfortable with, but that we needed to talk about. For marriage also meant stepping out of my comfort zone, and getting to try new things. Talking with my fiancé about our possible sexual life definitely wasn't something I was willing to do. But since we were already opening up to one another about potentially deep topics, I figured I might as well make my stance known.

I've been raised in a rather conservative family, where such things were never openly discussed, or even discussed at all. My idea of sex was that of something shameful to keep to oneself, and any deviation from the norm was to be rejected. But I knew it was a mentality I wanted to grow out of, and actually talking about it made me feel a little better. It opened the door to growth, at least. I was still embarrassed by the topic, but not ashamed. I felt like even after we got married, some things would always remain awkward, but I wanted to work on that too. I wanted to feel comfortable in my own skin, to not see my boyfriend's gaze as something to cower from, to accept that my body was not a source of shame like I had been made to believe. All those admissions were as many baby steps in the right direction, and I could tell he was encouraging me. He'd have my back, as always. That's how we could have a healthy, positive sex life, which would eventually make our marriage happier.

I was actually surprised at how comfortable Keith was with talking about it. Well, perhaps not that comfortable, but at least he was much more open than I was. He knew he was into men as much as women, and he never saw it in a bad light.

“Would you really have loved me just the same, had I been a boy instead?”

“Well, if I knew for sure you'd be into me as well...yeah, pretty much.”

“...you know, I think I'd be into you no matter my gender. You've got something to yourself that transcends those notions.”

“Aww, now you're flattering me, honey.”

Perhaps the casual tone with which we talked of all of this helped me relax a bit. There was nothing to be ashamed of: only people being people, sharing their desires and boundaries, so that the day we finally try getting intimate, there would be no awkward moments. Well, less awkward moments. I knew I wanted to try getting intimate with him, but he was quite concerned with the practical side of the question, mainly how to do things safely.

“You know, the Ancient Greeks used to make condoms out of animal intestines. Perhaps if I–”

“You're not putting anything's intestines inside of me.”

“Figured you'd say that.”

It was a little awkward at first, but with time and casual quips, the mood eased somewhat. Joking about it helped more than I'd have thought, and gradually, my fear of intimate relationships dimmed down. I still wasn't sure whether I'd enjoy intercourse or not, but I knew that at least I wanted to try. Perhaps it would be a great bonding experience, and a pleasant time too. I was ready to envision it; any time spent with him was bound to be good, anyway.

Those months of waiting and discussing were also an excellent time to actually prepare everything we needed. I knew that a white-dress wedding would be impossible, I had to be reasonable, but I was still a little bummed. This day would only happen once in my life, after all; the least I wanted was to have something proper to wear. And only weeks after I had expressed that thought, Keith surprised me again.

Not all animals on the island were sleeping the colder months away, and some were still roaming the plains. Hunting trips were still on the table, and in one such expedition, Keith had managed to catch a goat. To take care of such an animal, even if we could tame it, demanded resources we didn't yet have, so he couldn't try to bring it home; but all the same, it was just what he needed. That night, he brought me the goat's pelt: a beautiful hide of fluffy winter fur, “as white as milk is creamy”. And we both knew exactly what we would make of it.

We worked on it together, in the warmth and comfort of our home. Patiently snipping, trimming, sewing our project to life. There would be no element of surprise to it, but I didn't care: to do this with him was all I'd ever wanted. We put all our hearts into it, into making sure it would be perfect, and it all paid off in the end. For at the end of winter, we now had beautiful, matching capes of white fur.

I didn't need a white dress. I didn't need something I would only wear once, that would get dirty and ripped on the shrub and wild plants. What I needed was knowing I would always be warm, and that he would be warm too, for we would share it. We would share the gifts of life, and work hard so that the both of us could benefit from those beautiful treasures. Who cares if they lost their beautiful color over time? Color didn't matter to me, anyway. White would only keep white for so long, in an untamed world.

Only blue would remain unchanging. Nothing could dirty the blue scent of the sky that protected us, the blue melody of the sea that brought us to our island. The blue heart of the gem on my finger, that would never change even in the deepest, thickest of jungles, just like my feelings for him. I knew some might call blue the color of sadness, but I knew way otherwise.

To me, it would always be the color of home.

~~~~~

We got married by a beautiful summer day.

Two years after we had come to the island, we've finally decided to make that step and jump into the unknown. We've given this a lot of time and thought, and there was no going back on our feelings. This time, it was real, and I was watching it all take part.

My hands were nervously clenching the carved wooden staff, his wedding gift to me, as I walked down the improvised aisle to join him. There was no one watching us, no witnesses other than Polly and Becky pecking around, but I still felt so nervous. This was my big day, after all! What kind of bride doesn't get stressed on such an occasion? But eventually, I did it, for I knew I could do it. He taught me I could, and I would never forget that lesson.

His hands found mine, and I never forgot just how it felt when they touched. His leather gloves, my own wedding gift to him, were surprisingly soft, and his touch reassured me. Solid, lasting, reliable. One I would never forget, one that I had inscribed deeply into my soul. One that I wanted to feel embrace me forever, and never let go ever again. He smiled, and I smiled too, for it would be alright. Of course it would be alright.

We were not particularly religious, or even knew how weddings were supposed to be. But that meant we could choose, and that was the greatest part. Slowly, I lowered the hood of his cape like a bridal veil, and he did the same to me. I'm sure we looked like little idiots, but I couldn't care less. He was my little idiot, and I'd never have it any other way.

I told him all I had on my heart. I told him, in confused and almost teary words, just how I felt. How happy I was that this was finally happening, that we were here together, that...that I got to live long enough to finally stick it to everyone who thought I'd never make it or find love! That for the first time in my life, I truly felt in control! That I never wanted to give this up for anything in the world! That forever, I wanted to ride the wild tide with him, and be part of something greater than ourselves, until the day comes we both pass and our old bones give up, and...and...oh, goodness, I was such a mess…! I promised I wouldn't cry! But there I was, sobbing like a dumbass on my own wedding day! What could I say, I was emotional!!

And he laughed, but it wasn't a mocking laugh. Where stress made me tear up, it made him break down in nervous laughter like a fool. He apologized for being so insensitive, and I apologized for being so emotional, and...and we just started cry-laughing together, for we were both nervous wrecks, but we accepted it. Who could judge us, anyway? It was our big day! If we wanted to look like idiots, we would! And we did!! And we were happy about it!! And that's why instead of embarrassment, I only felt happiness at our shared anxiety. For he, more than anyone, understood me.

And that's the emotion in which we got married. Happiness, companionship, understanding. In lieu of wine, we shared the milk of a coconut, just like we did when we first met each other, and that only made our kiss sweeter. It felt to me like a breath of life, like the beginning of something amazing that had just opened its doors to us. And then we danced, danced our emotions away like the little idiots we were, on the music of the water and the sky and the land and the blue, the endless blue that wrapped around us like a red string, the blue of happiness that made its nest into my heart and would never leave again, for that was how much we were bound to one another now. Now there was nothing that could pry us apart, not even fate, not even the outside world.

He held me in his arms, and I felt the safest I've ever felt. I felt like I had achieved something great, that might seem humble to some but still remained an exploit to me, something to be proud of. And I would cherish that pride, I would wear it on my chest like my feelings, and I would never hide from him just how proud I was. Of him, of myself, of us, of everything we've done and had yet to do. Of everything we knew we could build together, that was now an absolute certitude. Of how much we've grown, and could continue to grow, over the next years of our life.

I was not afraid. I was done being afraid. That night, I was certainly nervous, but not afraid at all. There was nothing to fear, no matter how much the outside world wanted to convince me otherwise. I held onto him, let him guide my step, and together we leaped into the unknown. We grew closer than we ever had, and all the butterflies that had been growing within me all those years finally took flight. It felt great, and I felt great, and the more we kept going, the more my fears eased. I discovered parts of myself I never would have known about otherwise, and I felt glad I did. And that night, as we laid together and his warm skin rested softly against mine, as his lips still tiredly kissed my messy hair, as I contemplated the dancing light of the burning fire, I couldn't help but think of just how beautiful life truly was.

~~~~~

I felt for the embossed notches in the paper to find the next line, as I was still thinking my words. What I meant to say was delicate, and I had to choose carefully. I tried to put myself in her shoes, to think of how I would be feeling in her stead, and what I wished I could read in that very moment. It would be difficult to reassure her with nothing but written words, but I knew I had to try.

“It has never been a secret. We've never hidden the truth from you, we've always acknowledged there is an entire world outside of the island. We've answered your questions as truthfully as we could, but we never passed judgment; we wanted you to decide for yourself as to how to think of it.”

A noise caught my ear, and I instinctively turned to the cradle; but it was nothing. She was still asleep. Recovering my train of thought, I kept writing, attempting to be honest yet sensitive.

“I know you may wish to see it for yourself. Perhaps staying on our island is not the kind of life you want. Perhaps you do wish to stay, in which case you've already learned all there is about how to fend for yourself. Whatever is your decision, know that I fully support you.”

It was what I'd always stood for. I knew since the beginning that I would be a better mother than my own. And that meant allowing my daughter to make her own choices, even if I didn't necessarily agree. For that was how we could both grow as people, and as a family.

“If you want to leave the island and see the world for yourself, there are things you need to know. The world is very different from what you've been brought up in, and it might feel scary. People might ask you questions that you're not able to answer, or do things you don't understand. Please know that if you do choose to leave, you will need to be well-prepared.”

It hurt to think of just how they might treat her. What they might think of her, and try to turn her into. But I knew she would grow up to be strong enough to face it. With parents like her own, there was no other possibility.

“In this book, you will find many useful things that papa and I will leave for you. Things to know, things you will need, and the names and living places of people that might be able to help you. If you ever meet these good people, show them this book, and they will know who you are.”

I wondered how Keith's parents might feel, once an estranged granddaughter shows up at their doorstep. Although from what he's said, it would be a touching moment nonetheless.

“You will also find a map, that shows our island and where the closest city is. You have to understand that if you leave, there is a chance you might never be able to come back home, even if you try; so please, think things through and don't try anything unless you are sure you want to do this.”

It would be a shame to leave all of this behind, I thought. But it could be another occasion to grow. Nothing is set in stone, after all.

“At the time of me writing this letter, you are barely a year old. By the time you find it, so much could possibly have happened. Perhaps papa and I are no longer of this world, in which case I need you to know that we've always loved you. We've always wanted what is best for you, but in the end, only you can decide of that.”

It hurt to think that something might happen to River that would leave her orphaned. But such was the truth: just because Keith and I knew we would spend our lives here, didn't mean they'd be long lives. I never minded that before, but her birth had made the question much more complex now. I've already lived for a quarter of a century, so I had a good record. But that was no reason to give up just now.

“Whether you choose to stay with us or leave, we will always support you. For long before you were brought into the world, we both knew it would be cruel to force you into a life you may not have wanted. That's why we're giving you the choice; this is what we felt was best. Yet even if as I write this, it feels as if you were only born yesterday, you have filled our lives with happiness and joy. Please know that you've always been loved, that you've been wanted, that we've consciously decided to have you and to keep you, and to do everything so that you could live healthy and happy. You are my pride and my joy, and even if things ever are to get rough between us, as is normal with parents and children, I will always love you. Papa and I love you, and we have built this home for you, so you would never feel lost no matter where you go.”

I felt my eyes starting to prickle, but that was to be expected. This would perhaps be my only chance to be honest with my own daughter, about just how I felt about her. And cringy as it may sound, I wanted her to know the full extent of my love.

I barely heard Keith coming back, as I was writing. His clothes faintly smelled like gasoline; that's how I knew he had done his job. The boat would have enough fuel, and that was comforting to know.

I felt like I've written enough, and needed a moment to calm down, so I handed him the book to correct my few mistakes and add some words of his own. It was still blank for the most part, but we would fill it over the years. With instructions, with indications and guides, and maybe with memories too. She could keep it with her, as a reminder of everything we've lived on our island. A little scrapbook of our life.

I felt River start to stir awake before I even heard her. Standing up, I went to gently pick her up, cradling her against my breast. She babbled a few syllables, and I smiled at her way to call for me, kissing her tiny forehead. She reached for my face, patting around, and I couldn't help giggling.

“Yes, that's me. That's mama.”

I felt her own face, her chubby little cheeks and soft thin hair, and the cutest tiny nose I've ever booped in my life. She looked “like the soft mewling of a baby kitten”, “like the fluffy touch of a duckling”, “like the taste of the sweetest raspberries of summer”, and so many other descriptions I would never get tired of. And honestly, I couldn't be more proud. I kissed her nose, and she bapped my face with a giggle. Keith watched us with amusement, still writing down critical information, and I came to sit next to him as he worked. Little River then decided she wanted to sit on papa's lap, and he didn't have any other choice but to oblige. And I listened to their cheerful voices as they greeted, happy to see each other again after such a long, lonely nap. As always, he surpassed all that I'd have expected, but that only comforted me even more.

The greatest adventure of our lives had barely begun. And I for one was more than eager to live it.