𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒; outer banks

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

"Hey, Xander," he smiled into his brother's messy hair, holding him close with a smile. Although he hadn't really thought about it, he had almost actually died. In those few moments where the boat flipped over, his body plunging into the darkness of the sea as he struggled to push himself back up to the surface, he thought it was the end of his thought-to-be-endless travelling. He thought of his mum, his brother, his friends, Renna, and in a swift rush, his legs had powered him up to the teasing air. It was the thought of them that had kept him alive.

"Alex? Alex!" The siblings heard their mother shout, her voice sounding throughout the house before she threw open the back door. At first, her eyes grew wide when she surveyed the empty spot on the porch that her youngest once occupied. She flicked the outdoor light on worriedly, which is when she caught sight of him - her dead son.

She went quiet, staring at his familiar, loving face as he placed his brother back onto the ground. "Mum," he spoke softly, scared she would break at the mere sight and sound of his voice. She frowned, blinked a few times, before finally realising that her son was walking towards her a week and a half after his supposed death. 

"You didn't give up on me, did you?" He teased, a grin forming on his lips. She scoffed, taking the last few steps between them before engulfing him in a tight, helpless hug. 

"Don't you ever do that again, okay? Not ever," she demanded, the crack in her voice noticeable to the boy over her shoulder. He smiled, a nostalgic yet sombre smile. 

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he whispered, hearing the sound of his brother's footsteps clambering up the steps behind him. 

"Group hug," he shouted with a grin as he threw his arms around his mum and brothers thighs, shoving his head into their stomachs. Atticus spared a look down, sighing at the sight of his naïve brother. 

"How are you even here right now?" She asked, trying to sniff her tears away, but it proved to be futile.

"It's a long story."

"Atticus, I'm your mother. I thought you were dead," she cried, running a hand through her youngest's hair as Atticus pulled away. "I deserve an explanation, we all do." He sighed before holding a hand against her shoulder. 

"Let's sit down." 

After a few hours of talking, the boy explaining how he got from the bottom of the sea to the capital of the Bahamas, then all the way back home to the island, he was let free. 

He argued that, although Sylvia was still worried sick, he needed to see everyone else. She told him that he would only let him go to one person's house, the person he was planning to go see in the first place. It was the person he'd missed the most.

When he stepped through his front yard, his eyes immediately locked onto the rows of flowers and candles and letters and notes pressed up against his front garden and mailbox. He'd already seen the bouquet of flowers from Renna inside, having shed a few tears and worried thoughts aloud surrounding the girl and her previous misery. It just made him want to visit her more. 

He took a small moment to look over the assortment of wishes towards his 'passing', paying his own respects to the people who'd thought so dearly of him before beginning to take off. 

He had a hood covering his head as he walked down the empty sidewalks of the night, crossing over from the cut to Figure Eight. He knew the journey like the back of his hand, head pushed to the ground as he turned down street after street, following his usual route. There were barely any cars on the road, but when the odd one passed, it paid no mind to the lone boy with a hood over his head. He was still thought to be dead.