This short story was based on "Into the Ocean" by Blue October.
This is only the first chapter, though, created so you could get to know "the boy who sunk" a little better.
Tyler Oceann was one of the kids you might see sitting all alone at the pier, legs dangling off over the icy water, the kind no one bothers to approach. He had his own world somewhere up in that mixed-up mind of his. He never did what he was told, but rather did what he wasn't told not to do. For Tyler, life was just another inconvenience.
He wasn't your average boy, though. He expressed his profound thoughts in poems. Tyler was quiet, a far-away boy with far-away dreams.
Every night, he lay in bed, the covers wrapped up around him tightly up to his chin. As a cool breeze found it's way in through the window, Tyler was overwhelmed with the scent of the ocean. He breathed it in like it was the last taste of air he'd ever receive, and shivered with longing. His brain then began to sort out his dreams, setting the unimportant ones aside, until there, in his mind, he could see it. All other hopes aside, Tyler pictured himself on a ship—the massive, wooden, pirate-ship kind—sailing through the ocean. The wind would blow his messy brown hair into his eyes as he steered the helm, the wood damp with the moistness of the salty sea air.
As he lay back to enjoy the last few hours of sleep he could, he pictured the murky, green waves lapping at the side of the boat, and pined with such a fierce desire for a chance to be the boy he saw in his dream.
Tyler awoke to morning sunlight seeping through his drab, swamp-green curtains. Beyond his window, he heard birds chirping dully to the dreary, cheerless awakening of the sun. A smoky smell wafted in from outside, indicating that it had rained that very night. Tyler looked up at the overcast sky and sighed heavily.
School.
No, more like prison, he thought.
Tyler checked the time, realizing he had but half an hour to get ready for school.
There's no point, he said silently, muttering to himself under his breath, but he climbed into the shower anyway, peeling his nightclothes off. Steam immediately fogged up the glass, filling his lungs. Quick, heavy droplets of water stung his back, but it was a welcoming feeling, he thought, as his skin gradually grew patches of red from the heat. Warmth crawled all over his body.
"Tyler," his mother called, rapping on the bathroom door. He closed his eyes tightly, resting his forehead on the tiled shower wall. He took in a mouthful of steam and pretended not to hear the sound coming from outside the bathroom walls.
"Tyler! You'll be late for school," she warned.
"School's not important, mum," he shouted from the shower, but slid the glass door open anyway. Coolness flooded him as the warm air escaped the shower stall.
Tyler wrapped a towel around his waist and hurriedly put on some deodorant—just in time, too, because the door burst open. His mother stood in the doorway, her face fixed in a mask of scorn.
"Then what is important to you, Tyler?"
He frowned.
"Mum, I'm naked. Out."
His mother sighed, clearly exasperated, and threw her hands into the air.
"What'll I ever do with you," she exclaimed.
"Ship me away," he suggested, pushing past her.
Tyler plopped down on the bed, pulling the towel tighter around his legs.
"Ship you away," she scoffed, turning on him. "If only it were that easy!"
"It is." He fumbled through his drawer, carelessly scattering socks and underwear all over his floor and bed until he found a clean towel.
"You could at least do me a favor and be more neat, Tyler! Every day I work like crazy at the office, handling people who drive me nuts—but I do it for you! Could you at least pretend to appreciate it," she emitted, gesturing with her hands furiously.
Tyler simply stared at her, not at all fazed by her words (even less by her hand movements), toweling his hair quietly.
"And don't look at me that way, Tyler," his mum scolded.
"Leave please," he told her directly.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"What's wrong with you, Tyler?" Her eyes softened. "What's troubling you?"
Tyler instinctively curled his lip back over his teeth, an expression that became a habit whenever he realized his mum was trying to find out more about him—but it was really her hinting that he had "issues" in her own strange way.
But today was slightly different. If there was a chance his mother could help him fulfill his dream, what with her "working like crazy at the office," he was willing to take it.
"Mum, I want to sail the seas," he told her flatly, anticipating her to immediately disagree.
But she did not.
Surprise, surprise, he thought to himself.
"I'll… think about it, Tyler," she said eventually, her voice indifferent, her face devoid of any emotion—which was an unnatural look for her. She was usually easy to decipher when it came to feelings. She was an open book, Tyler was not—one of their many differences.
She kissed the top of his head like she used to when he was little and thought the world was a happy planet; like when he used to think life was a merry-go-round of fun.
Well, little kids were always stupid, he thought as she wiped the faint lipstick mark she'd left on his forehead off quickly.
"I'll be off now, Ty," she told him. "Please hurry and get to school; I don't want to worry anymore about you today. I hope your day's a good one, dear." His mum smiled, kissed him once again, and opened the door.
She hesitated then, and looked back at Tyler.
"Oh, and Tyler, stay out of trouble today, will you?"
Tyler nodded, knowing that was the only way he could get his mother to finally leave.
She sighed with relief, though Tyler couldn't imagine why she would take his word for honest, and she left, closing the door gently behind her.
Tyler quickly stood up, letting the towel fall to his ankles, and rummaged again through even more drawers. Putting on a pair of fresh underwear, he finally settled on a striped navy-blue-and-grey V-neck sweater, a pair of washed out jeans, and hastily pulled on his laceless Converse.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror with stormy grey eyes, instantly dissatisfied. He sighed, rubbing another lipstick mark off his cheek, and slung his backpack over his shoulder.
"Another day of high school," he said to his reflection. "This'll be fun..."
He tousled his hair in the mirror, giving it the signarture unkempt look that screamed "rebel" all over, and grinned in contrary to his previous gloomy mood.
"I'll think about it, Tyler," almost always means a yes, he said to himself, skipping out the door.