Whoo. Here's my first story for this fandom. It's short, the general idea has been used before, but I just felt like writing it. Hope you enjoy :)
For Daley, it was strange. The house she grew up in, that she was once so familiar with, now felt odd and out of place. She went up to her room and flicked on the light, but shielded her eyes right away because the light was too harsh and unnatural. She felt her way to her bed and laid down on top of it. It took a long time for her to try and get comfortable, but Daley just couldn't. So, she got out of her bed and laid down on her stiff carpet.
To her, it was so much more comfortable than her bed. She slowly drifted off into a restless sleep. The house was too quiet, and Daley kept waking up, half expecting to hear the crash of the ocean waves.
Lex pushed the food around on his plate at dinner, not feeling very hungry after taking just a few bites. You're probably just used to not eating as much. It will all be back to normal soon. Lex's mom told him. Lex shrugged, stood up and slowly trudged up the stairs without saying anything to his parents. No noise sounded from Daley's room, so he pushed open his bedroom door and quickly, his eyes adjusted to the dark. All of his belongings were exactly where they were the last time he was home. Silently, he pulled himself into his bed and drifted off to sleep.
It was late at night when Lex woke with a start, a cool sweat making his hair stick to his forehead as he yelled. Jackson? But there was no response. Lex pulled his knees up to his chest and felt his eyes sting, as he remembered all the times Jackson would sit up with him on the island after waking from a bad dream.
Thirst attacked Eric as he sat on the couch with his younger brother silently. He stood up, his water bottle in hand, and pushed open the door to go onto the patio. It was dark, but he quickly found the water spigot and turned it on, letting the cool water splash into his bottle. His brother stood in the doorway, his silhouette standing still and watching his brother intently. Eric, what are you doing? He questioned loudly, curious as to what was going on. The spigot turned off and Eric pushed past his brother to get back inside. The clatter of metal sounded throughout the kitchen. Eric, stop. You can just get water from the sink. But the blond boy kept moving, filtering the water into the metal pan so that he could boil it once it was completely filtered. Eric. His brother spoke sternly this time and put a hand on his older brother's shoulder. Eric jumped and stared at his brother with a disoriented look. You don't need to boil the water. We have water from the sink. He looked at the water bottle in his hand, to the pan half filled with filtered water, to his brother, to the sink and back to the water bottle in his hand. Oh. His voice sounded suddenly, but he couldn't let go of the bottle.
Nathan's parents decided that he needed to be taken out to dinner for his first night back. It didn't feel right to Nathan. His palms were itching and he felt extremely out of place. He hadn't showered for days, he was wearing one of the same pairs clothes he had been wearing for the past twenty-eight days, and his teeth needed brushing. You can get anything you want to eat, Nathan. His father said. Nathan tilted his head and looked at his dad with a questioning look. Suddenly, he stood up and walked out of the restaurant without looking back. He shoved his hand into his pocket and fingered the crisp ten dollar bill. The cars whizzed in front of the curly-haired boy and he started to run down the street. In thirty minutes, Nathan had entered three different groceries stores, but none of them had what he wanted. By now, his parents would probably be looking for him, but he didn't care at the moment. Finally, finally, he entered a small little store and instantly found what he was looking for. He grabbed the rough, round object and paid for it within forty seconds of entering the store. Minutes later, Nathan sat with his back on the cool brick wall outside and the sweet taste of coconut lingered in his mouth.
Taylor, you look different. Why aren't you wearing make-up? Taylor's younger sister questioned, staring at Taylor like she was from another planet. You look weird. Her sister left the room and Taylor ran to the bathroom. She looked under the sink, in the cupboards, and finally found the pink bag she was once attached to. Placing the many items on the bathroom counter, Taylor contemplated which to use first. She put on eyeliner, then mascara, and lip gloss, blush, eyeshadow, foundation. And then Taylor looked in the mirror. The salty smell of the ocean lingered in her hair and her face looked awkward against the wavy curls that framed it. She scoffed and poured water onto a towel and wiped the make-up off her face. Her face felt naked and bare. She jumped into the shower immediately afterwards and let the scorching hot water pour on her body. Shampoo and soap swirled at the bottom of the bathtub and when Taylor exited the shower, she could still smell the salty ocean air. It wouldn't leave her, and although she'd never admit it, part of her hoped it never would.
Melissa lay quietly in her bed. She could hear her parents whispering in the room over. Do you think she's okay? Did she seem the same to you? Everything will be alright in a few days. Her comforter was soft, clean and warm against her body. There was static cling, the scent of fabric softener sticking to her. It would keep her warm all night.
Melissa waited until she heard her dad's snores drifting through the hallway, and her mother's gentle breathing before creeping out of her spacious bedroom and down the carpeted stairs. The living room held what she was looking for. Flipping on a switch, flames filled the small fireplace, licking at the sides of the stone. The dark-haired girl rubbed her hands together, trying to keep warm. It didn't feel the same, and Melissa's body didn't seem to warm up against the bright heat.
It took only minutes until the fire danced in the small pit in her backyard. Hugging her knees to her chest, Melissa closed her eyes, letting the orange flames heat up her body. This felt right.
Jackson walked down the darks streets, the only light coming from the lampposts that lit the roads every ten feet. He had waited at the airport for three hours, before a security guard who had been watching him suspiciously asked him what he was waiting for. Now, he walked down the vaguely familiar streets that would lead to his house, his backpack feeling heavier with every footstep.
He knew his mom would have heard he went back to his neighborhood before the trip, knew she would have found out that the police were looking for him. He didn't think she'd stop caring enough to come and pick up her son after he'd been lost for nearly a month. Maybe she hadn't seen the news, or heard it on the radio. Maybe she was working late and hadn't found out. These were the thoughts that Jackson was thinking. One small thought crept into his mind slowly. Or maybe she didn't want me to see the look of shame and disappointment in her eyes when she came to get me.
That night, it started to rain. Jackson pulled out his windbreaker, trying to keep himself warm. Memories flooded his mind as he remembered the big storm on the island. He hadn't noticed he had drifted to sleep, until the blinding glare of headlights pulled him back to reality.
The window rolled down slowly as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Get in. His mom whispered, keeping her eyes straight ahead. More than anything in that moment, Jackson wished he was back on the island. There he had friends, people who cared and accepted him for who he was. There, back on the island, Jackson finally had a real home.
This was just a view on what it was like for the kids after they got back home. To me, I think that the island became a part of them and being back home wouldn't feel right. They were all so used to a routine that they depended their lives on, and it was hard to break once they were home. Hmm, I think Jackson's was the hardest to write. I didn't know what I wanted to have happen, but I like how it turned out.
Inspiration credit goes to the story native by Dear Aunt Elladora, because I loved it and favorited it and I couldn't get the idea out of my mind, so I decided to do my own. :) Thank you. Reviews are lovely and make my day, they really really do.