The Island
Note: I've never really written a romance before… so it might be kind of strange… but oh well I'm going for it! Reviews are appreciated ouo.
Dirk's POV
You're stuck inside a small, dark space. Light seeps inside from a few cracks, making it obvious you are in some kind of crate or box. You're curled up in fetal position with your head against the top. Or it might be the bottom. You have no real sense of direction anymore, but frankly, you're very uncomfortable. You blink and inhale the salty air, noticing you are being moved- dragged across the ground, really, by someone you can't see. You know it's a person though, because he is singing. You can't make out the words, but the song sounds heavenly to you. Damn it. I'm probably dead. You think, assuming the voice is of an angel. Suddenly, the voice stops and so do you. Everything is still and silent.
The weight of the box is lifted off the top of your head, and light floods your vision. If it weren't for your beat-up shades, you think you'd have been blinded. Once your eyes adjust, you take in the scene before you. A boy about your age looks down on you from outside the box. He's holding a crowbar, and has a completely dumbstruck look on his face. He wears nothing fancy- just an old t-shirt and shorts. His hair is thick and black; it frames his face and contrasts his deep green eyes. His skin is the complete opposite of yours- tan, with no spots or blemishes of any kind. Still, you can't stop looking at his eyes. They seem to be the most beautiful thing in the room. Muscles aching, you stand and adjust your shades.
"Sup. Name's Dirk Strider," you say.
Jake's POV
"Uh…" It takes you a moment before you gather just what has happened. A crate washed up on the beach. You dragged it to your house. You opened it. A person was inside. Now, he says his name is Dirk.
"Jake English, jolly good to meet you!" you extend your hand, and he shakes it. The contact of human skin on yours sends an odd sensation up your arm. It's been years since you've seen another human being. You look at the boy as he climbs out of the crate. His blonde hair is long and sloppy. He's as pale as a ghost, with a thin line of freckles across his face. However, you can't see too much of his face, because it is covered by cracked, pointy sunglasses. Aside from that, his clothes are tattered and torn. He breaks your train of thought.
"Yo you got any food around here?" He asks, looking through the makeshift drawers you still haven't replaced after all your years of living here.
"Um, sorry, but I could go catch something…" You barley know what to say to this boy. He just… appeared. You're too confused and excided by the idea of not being alone, you can't even answer him normally.
"Catch something? What is this, Man VS Wild?" He questions you.
"Um, kind of, you see, we're on an island somewhere in the middle of the ocean, and, well, we're the only people here…" You try to tell him, but after you mention the word 'island,' he rushed to the door and swings it open, laughing. You just watch as he flips out. Once the laughter dies down, you walk over to him.
"You okay there, old chap?" You ask.
"If this isn't fucking irony I don't know what is," he says.
"Oh, um, would you still like me to get some food?" You ask him cautiously. The thought dawns on you that you don't actually know this guy, and he could very well be a psychopath.
"That'd be great," he says, looking off into the distance. You go inside to grab one of your guns and some ammo, then head out. He just stands by your door and zones out.