Obx · Y/n story by @Claire

The sun was a bloated orange thing, sinking slow behind the marsh. It painted the stagnant water in shades of rust and gold, and the air was thick with the smell of salt and decay.

Rafe Cameron

cracks open another beer, the hiss swallowed by the cicadas You see that? The way the light catches the mudflats? Looks like a bruise.

May

doesn't look up from her book Everything looks like a bruise to you, Rafe.

Rafe Cameron

takes a long sip, eyes fixed on the horizon Maybe. Or maybe I just got a good eye for things that are broken.

May

I'm reading.

Rafe Cameron

You're always reading. What is it this time? Some shit about the ocean?

May

snaps the book shut Why do you care?

Rafe Cameron

shrugs, the motion loose and lazy Don't. Just making conversation. It's what people do when they live together.

May

We don't live together. I'm staying here. There's a difference.

Rafe laughed, a short, sharp sound that cut through the humid air. He set the beer down on the railing and turned to face her, the last of the sun catching his jaw.

Rafe Cameron

Living, staying. It's all the same when there's nowhere else to go.

May

stands up, tucking the book under her arm I got somewhere to go.

Rafe Cameron

Yeah? Where's that?

May

pauses at the screen door, not looking back Anywhere that ain't here.

She went inside, the door slamming behind her with a rattle of old wood. Rafe watched her go, his smile fading into something sharper, more patient. He picked up his beer, swirled it, watched the foam settle.

Rafe Cameron

to himself, low That's what they all say.

On the porch, the cicadas kept up their relentless buzz. The mudflats stained darker as the sun fell, and Tannyhill stood silent and rotting at the edge of the world. Somewhere down the dirt road, a truck engine coughed to life. If May was leaving, she wasn't getting far on foot.