“hello, i was wondering if i could request a really cool imagine where y/n and c/n are stranded on an island together and stuff lol thought that would be a fun thing to imagine!! love your blog ❤”
I HAD to do this one next, I used to always try to find these kinds of imagines and since I started a blog myself I’ve been dying to write one! I LOVE this plot because you can start with two complete strangers and literally force them to become super close and dependent on each other. So yeah, that’s what I did - hope you enjoy!
P.S. I gave (c/n) a bit of tragic backstory in this one so just humor me a lil and pretend your crush’s mother is dead and has (probably) the wrong name, thanks!
P.P.S. this was the most fun I’ve had writing an imagine. Request more exciting plots like this one and I might prioritize it ;) now I’m really done rambling…ENJOY!
Word count: 8.6k (CRAZY LONG but it’s worth it for the character & relationship development! grab some snacks & get comfortable!)
The sun glares at you and you shield your eyes with your hands, scrunching up your face. You walk slowly down the wooden docks lined with boats of various sizes, searching for one in particular. At last you spot a tiny motorboat with Mary scrawled across it in sky-blue paint. You hurry towards it. A very tan boy about your age is sprawled on his back on the bow of the boat, shades covering his eyes. You can’t tell if he’s asleep, so you clear your throat.
When there’s no response, you frown and lean forward awkwardly, rapping your knuckles on the side of the boat. “Excuse me…uh…hello?”
The boy stirs, lifting his head an inch or so. You give a half smile and wave. “Yes. Hello. Are you the man I spoke with on the phone?”
The boy lays his head back down, crossing his arms. “That was probably my dad.”
“Oh.” You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do. “Um, where is he?”
You wait for more. Apparently, he doesn’t have anything else to say. You furrow your eyebrows, getting more confused by the second. “Out where? When will he be back?”
The boy lifts his head up again, clearly growing annoyed at your persistent interruptions. “Not till tonight.”
“That’s not possible.” You frown. “He was supposed to give me a ride today, at noon. It’s noon. We arranged all this over the phone.” You hear your voice becoming more high-pitched and hysterical, and curse silently for choosing this clearly unreliable boat service. It was the cheapest option at such short notice.
The boy sits up and raises his sunglasses to squint at you, and you’re momentarily caught off guard by how beautiful his eyes are. You could tell he was attractive even with the shades on, but now that you can see his whole face it’s clear this boy could model for Abercrombie. Maybe he does.
At last he lowers the sunglasses over his eyes again, as though he’s gathered all the information he needs. He nods slightly to himself. “All right. I’ll take you.”
“You will?” You feel slightly uneasy at trusting your travel to this kid, as opposed to his presumably more experienced father. But on the other hand, you can hardly complain - even if he gets you both killed, at least you’ll have eye candy while you’re dying. You grin at him. “Thanks so much.”
With a heavy sigh, the boy slides off the bow to a standing position, where you’re able to really appreciate his height. Unfortunately, he is wearing a t-shirt, but you still have a great view of his flawless arms. Tan, toned legs stretch out under his swim trunks. He must spend a lot of time out in the sun. “Do you do this a lot?” you ask conversationally, trying to be friendly but also trying to find out just how much experience he actually has.
The boy just shrugs. Not one for small talk, huh. Well, let’s just try to get his name, and then you can leave him alone. “I’m (y/n) by the way. You?”
“(C/n).” He sits down in the driver’s seat and asks, “Where to?”
You rummage through your small bag and pull out a piece of paper with an address on it, or coordinates, or whatever they use for directions on the ocean. You don’t really know what any of it means. In any case, the name of the island where you’re meeting your friends is written in big letters, so hopefully he’ll know where that is. You hand it to him, and he glances at it for a second before nodding and starting up the engine. You give a small sigh of relief. Maybe you’ll arrive in time for a fun day with your friends after all.
The small boat starts moving with a jolt, and you stumble, grabbing the edge of the boat to steady yourself. You look around for a place to sit. There’s a small bench lining the sides, so you try to make yourself comfortable there. After a few minutes of silence, you lean forward and ask, shouting to make yourself heard, “How long until we get there?”
“A couple of hours. It’s pretty much in the middle of nowhere.”
You sigh and slump back down in your seat. If only you were rich and had a private jet to take you everywhere. You really hope this “adventurous outing” with the girls will be worth it. To pass the time, you pull out your sunscreen and start applying it, stripping down to your bikini to make sure you get every inch of skin.
After a little while, your driver turns his head, maybe to check that you didn’t fall overboard, considering you’ve been completely silent. He does a double take, probably surprised to see you with half the clothes you previously had on. You hide a smirk and continue applying sunscreen all over, determined not to get an ugly burn like you always do.
As time drags on, the monotonous but strangely relaxing roar of the boat in your ears and the sun beating down on your face, you feel a drowsiness weighing you down. You stretch out on the bench and put on shades, slinging an arm over your face to hide it from the sun. In no time you’re lulled to sleep, the comfortable smell of salt carrying over into your dreams, in which you befriend a pleasant sea turtle and swim with chattering seals, leaving all of your worries at the shore.
“(Y/n).” A voice shakes you out of your dreams, low but with urgent undertones. Someone is shaking your arm. “(Y/n), wake up.”
You lift your sunglasses and blink furiously in the sudden brightness. “Wha-” You see (c/n)’s face hovering over yours. The roar of the engine is absent and the boat seems to have stopped moving. “Are we here?” You look around. All you can see is blue water. No island in sight.
“No.” (C/n) looks unsettled, and immediately you begin to feel nervous. “We ran out of gas.”
You blink slowly, trying to process this information with grogginess still clouding your thoughts. “Oh. Um…is there, like…extra? Spare jugs, or whatever?”
His answering expression increases your worry exponentially. He sighs. “No. I’ve looked everywhere. I wouldn’t have gotten you involved if I hadn’t tried everything already.”
You sit up quickly. “What? You mean we’re actually stuck?” You look around again, this time with mounting panic. The sight of surrounding blue brings you anything but calm. “Can’t you call someone to pick us up?”
“Call?” He laughs without humor. “We’re in the middle of the ocean, there’s no cell service here.”
“Well…isn’t there a GPS, or a map or something? Whatever you were using before…” You trail off, wondering why the hell he’s asking you for advice. As if you know the first thing about how to travel by boat. You’re just making a fool of yourself at this point.
This becomes evident on (c/n)’s face. “Yes. We have maps. But the boat needs to actually work. We have emergency paddles, but that would take hours, days even.”
“Jesus.” You make a face, trying to battle the stress, which is clearly starting to affect (c/n) as well. He’s pacing back and forth in the tiny floor space, running his fingers through his hair over and over. You rack your brains for solutions. “Um…can you, like, hot-wire it? Like a car?”
(C/n) just looks at you, and you wait for a scathing response, but he says nothing. He appears to be thinking. “That could work,” he says at last. “If I hot-wire one of the fuel pumps…” he mumbles to himself, losing you completely. You tune back in when he says, “I watched my dad do it once…how hard could it be?”
You almost laugh at the sheer folly of your situation. You have never hotwired anything, and neither, apparently, has (c/n). This has to be a joke. “There’s seriously no better option?” you ask incredulously. Inwardly, you make a promise never to accept a boat ride from an idiot ever again. That is, if you get out of this alive.
(C/n) doesn’t answer your question, but instead kneels in front of the controls, looking for something in particular. You squat next to him, trying to help but completely clueless. Finally he pulls out a jumble of wires and starts untangling them. Meanwhile, you pinch yourself to make sure you aren’t still dreaming. Shit dream, if it is one.
“Okay, (y/n),” he says, turning to you and looking you directly in the eyes for perhaps the first time. “I need you to turn the key when I tell you to. Can you do that?”
You nod wordlessly. Your fingers, trembling slightly, find the key on the console and grasp it. When (c/n) yells “Go!” you turn the key - in the wrong direction. Quickly you reverse it. You hear a kind of pop. “What was that? Did it work?” you question anxiously.
(C/n) just shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Suddenly his eyes widen. “Oh, shit.” He looks up, panic evident in his face. “Shit.”
“Huh-” Before you can finish expressing your confusion, he shouts, “Jump!”
“Jump where? What?!”
Without further hesitation, (c/n) scoops you up in his arms and throws you overboard, as effortlessly as if you were a baby. Plunging underwater, you quickly resurface, utterly flabbergasted. You open your eyes in time to see (c/n) diving off the boat just as the whole thing implodes in a cloud of smoke and fire.
You’re hugging a stray piece of wood to your chest, clutching onto it for dear life as you try to catch your breath. Dimly, you recognize the wood from the bench you were sitting on. You look across the water to where (c/n) is hanging onto a burnt white slab of wood, with the remains of the word Mary written on it in blue. He traces the letters morosely with his finger, a shellshocked glaze in his eyes. Meanwhile, a strange calm has settled over you, as though your life-threatening situation is just a distant movie and you’re simply a spectator.
You look around at what remains of the boat. There goes our GPS, you remark in your head, almost with a sense of amusement. Looking back at (c/n), you conclude that he probably won’t be any help right at this moment. Clearing your throat, you start to yell for help at the top of your lungs.
After a few seconds of this, (c/n) turns his gaze in your direction. “What are you doing?”
“Calling for help, idiot,” you answer. What else would you be doing?
(C/n) lies back in the water. “It’s no use. We’re miles away from civilization. We’re as good as dead.”
You stare incredulously. “So, you’re just gonna give up and accept death?”
(C/n) gives an almost imperceptible shrug in response. Sighing, you turn in a slow circle, trying to see as far as you can. You shield your eyes as you turn towards the sun, squinting through the glare. As you’re about to continue your revolution, wooden plank still held tightly in one arm, you notice something on the horizon. You stare as hard as your eyes will allow, and make out some sort of shape. “(C/n),” you say distractedly. “(C/n), look over there.”
He follows your eyes to the lump on the horizon, and when he sees it, he snaps to attention. Suddenly alert again, he starts paddling towards it, as though he’ll get a better look with a few seconds of swimming. “(C/n),” you call after him, “Wait up!” You start swimming after him, using the bench as a kickboard.
Perhaps an hour or two later - you have absolutely no sense of time - you slump over your piece of wood, exhausted. You and (c/n) have been paddling wordlessly towards that one shining chance of survival, and now, it has grown into what you could conceivably call an island. You can make out a miniature mountain dotted with palm trees. No sign of buildings or any sort of man-made construction, but you’re not close enough to know for sure.
As you gasp for breath, (c/n) turns and paddles back over to you. “Come on,” he says, in a tone almost comparable to that of encouragement. “Not much farther now.” When you only cough in response, he grabs your arm and starts pulling you along with him, kicking his feet to propel himself. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thank God that (c/n) is a good swimmer, or works out a lot, or both. You certainly can’t say the same about yourself.
After another hour or more of this, during which exhaustion pulls you in and out of lucidity, (c/n) shakes you into the waking world again. “(Y/n). Hey. Wake up.”
You bring yourself upright and suddenly feel the ocean floor beneath your feet. Looking up, you’re confronted with the sight of what was once a miniature island, now up close and enormous. The shore is only a hundred feet away. Staring in shock for a minute, you take it all in. The sandy beach, the towering palm trees, the rocky hills in the background. In any other situation, this would be a charming location, a tropical paradise. Nevertheless, at this moment it’s your only chance of survival. You start wading through the water, splashing towards shore, (c/n) close behind you.
After a minute of standing in the soft white sand in silence, you ask the burning question. “Where are we?” you breathe out, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper.
(C/n) shakes his head slowly, as if in disbelief. “I have no idea. I didn’t know this place existed.”
You glance sideways at him. His t-shirt is soaked and clinging to his skin, perfectly outlining his muscles. You quickly pull your eyes back to the island before you get too caught up in staring at him. But you notice he still has the burnt piece of boat in one hand, letting it trail in the sand.
You walk forward a few steps before collapsing, too tired to stand. You lie on your back in the hot sand, trying to stay warm as the cold water evaporates off your skin, leaving you shivering. (C/n) pulls his wet t-shirt off, obviously cold as well, and despite your current state you can’t help but stare. He mimics you and lies down in the warm sand, breathing heavily. The two of you just lie there, exhausted and shellshocked. On the horizon, the sun is beginning to set, and though you have a perfect view, you are unable to appreciate it. Before the real show has even begun, your eyes are already closed.
Cold water lapping at your feet jolts you awake. You sit up, utterly disoriented. It takes a solid minute of looking around in confusion for everything to come back to you. You groan and let your head fall back down. Apparently this wasn’t just a really vivid nightmare.
The sun is high in the sky, suggesting that you slept in pretty late. At least you got a good night’s sleep. Small comfort in a world like this one, where sleep is the least of your worries. After a few minutes of feeling sorry for yourself, you steel yourself and sit up again. Eventually you make it all the way to a standing position, and congratulate yourself. Positivity and self-encouragement…that’s what your therapist always tells you. You brush the sand off your back, realizing you’re still wearing only a string bikini. It’s a good thing the nights in this region are fairly warm or you could have frozen to death.
A human-shaped indentation in the sand reminds you of your fellow castaway. Scanning your surroundings, you find no sign of (c/n). You call his name a few times, but the only response is the chattering of some unidentifiable bird. At least you’ll have something to eat, if you survive long enough to even attempt hunting.
Well, with no other pressing matters besides your inevitable decomposition on this deserted island in the middle of nowhere, you decide to wander around a little and get the lay of the land, and hopefully find (c/n) along the way.
You pick a direction and start walking. Somehow, in the midst of your fear of being found dead in a hundred years, you’re able to enjoy the myriad of pleasant views this island has to offer. The sun sparkling on the clear blue waters and the white sand beaches make you momentarily forget about your quandary, or at least, put it on the back burner, as they say. You do love palm trees, and this island is full of them. You weave in and out of the line of trees forming the edge of a much thicker forest in the middle of the island. It’s probably not as pleasant in there, and you hope (c/n) hasn’t already gotten lost inside, or possibly mauled by a local bear. Once again, you marvel at your own nonchalance.
After a while of this, you stop to take a break. Exercise was never your thing. It’s as you’re standing there catching your breath that you notice a figure sitting against a palm tree not far away. Surprised but elated at the thought of a fellow human, you run towards the person, shouting and waving your arms. You stop when you get closer and realize it’s (c/n). He watches you, expressionless.
“Oh. It’s just you.” You flop onto the ground near him, disappointment obvious in your expression.
(C/n) snorts. “Hello to you too.”
You give him an exasperated look. “You know what I mean.”
“I’ve been up for hours searching the whole island and shouting. Trust me…we’re alone.” He starts drawing circles in the sand absentmindedly.
“Oh.” You frown. “I didn’t hear any shouting.”
He rolls his eyes. “No one could have heard anything over your snoring. You sure like to sleep.”
You contemplate this, trying to figure out whether to take offense or not. “Well, sue me.” You stand up. “Why don’t we try to find a source of fresh water?”
(C/n) doesn’t look up from his sand drawings. “I’ll pass.”
You squint at him. “Umm…that’s not really an option,” you start.
“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re stranded on an island?” You throw your arms out in a gesture of frustration. “We’re gonna have to work together if we want any chance of survival.”
(C/n) stops drawing and looks up at you through slitted eyes. “What makes you think we’re going to survive?”
You take a deep breath, trying to control your exasperation. Patience is a virtue, you remind yourself. Maybe this boy is confused. “There are trees and stuff. There’s probably food. There are animals. If we’re desperate enough we can probably strangle them to death. We’re one, two hours away from civilization, max. It’s not that unlikely that a ship will pass by within a few days. And, I’m sorry, but do you WANT to die?” Your voice rises in pitch with every sentence.
You hoped you could help (c/n) see reason, but instead you seem to have angered him somehow. He opens his mouth and unleashes his own tirade. “There are a thousand different ways we could get killed here. You’re not going to find a magical stream of fresh water and wild animals won’t just waltz into your arms. Only in the movies do people get stranded on a deserted island and actually come out alive. You can do all the animal-strangling and tree-shaking you want. But if you don’t mind, I’d rather enjoy my last days relaxing on the beach than getting attacked by wild rats or wandering around until I pass out.” He leans back against the tree, apparently considering the matter decided.
Unbelievable. You set your jaw and grab his arm. Surprised, (c/n) tries to shove you off but you latch on and pull him off the ground, with some difficulty. “Listen up, buddy. I’m only here in the first place because you fucked up. I’m not going to die here because you were too lazy and selfish and apparently suicidal to help!”
At that, (c/n) stops resisting. His expression changes, and you wonder if that’s shame flitting across his face. At any rate, he seems to give in. “Alright, fine. Just…tell me what to do.”
Satisfied, you let him go. “We have to find some kind of river or something. We can only survive three days without fresh water.”
“Nice fact, teacher. Watch a lot of Bear Grylls?” Shame or no shame, his sarcasm is certainly still intact.
“Nice joke Seinfeld, watch a lot of Comedy Central?” you snap back.
“As if, I have better things to do with my time than loaf around in front of the TV.”
“Like what, loafing around on your boat?”
“At least I have a boat, bet you can’t say the same.”
“Had a boat,” you correct him. He winces, and you instantly feel bad. It’s not like he wasn’t fully aware of the situation already, but it’s true that for a moment it was as if nothing was wrong. “Sorry,” you mumble quickly.
After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, you start whistling the theme to Gilligan’s Island. It seems fitting, and lightens the mood, in your opinion. (C/n), however, does not seem to agree.
“Stop that,” he grumbles. “You’re pitchy and it’s hurting my ears.”
Hurt, you fix him with a withering stare. “Excuse me, do you plan to tone down your attitude anytime soon?”
“Nope.” (C/n)’s mouth twitches, almost as if he’s smirking, but of course that’s impossible.
You settle back into a comparatively more comfortable silence as you make your way towards the thicket of trees in the center of the island. It looks a little foreboding, but considering your options, you try to see it as more of a fun hiking trip through a tropical forest. In reality, though, who knows what you might run into in there?
As the underbrush gets thicker, you can’t help grimacing at all the leaves and branches scratching your bare legs and torso. If only you decided to keep your clothes on and apply sunscreen later on. You could really use the extra coverage right now.
Maybe (c/n) notices your struggle, because he pushes in front of you and leads the way, whacking branches out of the way with a stick he’s just picked up. You smile a little. Did he just do you a favor? Cold, heartless (c/n) could still be a gentleman deep down inside.
Nothing can be done about your bare feet, however. You may have pretty soft skin, but you suspect (c/n) must be struggling as well with the sharp rocks and protruding roots all over the forest floor. You tread in fear of impaling your foot on a thorn. The two of you walk slowly with your eyes glued to the ground. With your vision busy, you have to rely on your hearing, ears perked to catch the sound of running water, which is seeming more and more like a fantasy as time passes.
Just as you’re about to give up, you hear that blessed sound: the quiet gurgle of water trickling over rocks. You and (c/n) run towards the sound and heave simultaneous sighs of relief as you stumble onto the banks of a tiny river tumbling downhill. “How’s that for a magical stream?” you tease triumphantly.
Rather than responding, (c/n) kneels by the stream, plunges his hands in the water and drinks from his cupped hands, then splashes the water all over his face. You laugh but join him, relishing from the sweet, cold, and probably unsanitary water. Oh well, it’s worth the risk.
You follow the stream back downhill to see where it ends, finding a small pool at the edge of the forest. “This is perfect. We can come here for water.”
“Let’s hope it’s not full of diseases,” (c/n) interjects unhelpfully. You ignore him. “Great. Now we have to build a shelter and figure out how to start a fire before it gets dark again.”
“Easy peasy.” (C/n) cracks perhaps his first smile. Too bad it’s clearly a sarcastic one. However, you’ll ignore that, too.
“That’s the spirit. Positivity is key, or so my therapist always says.” You flash a bright smile. Maybe you can blind him into submission with your bright white teeth.
(C/n) glances at you in vague amusement. “You have a therapist?”
“Yes, I do. I’m not ashamed. It’s healthy to express your feelings once in awhile.” You give him a pointed look. “Or once in a century, for some people.”
“I don’t like talking about my feelings. Why would I want to spill my guts to a stranger?” (C/n) starts walking back out onto the beach, and you follow close behind.
“It doesn’t have to be a stranger. I can be your therapist,” you offer with another cheery smile.
He glances back. “You’re a stranger too.”
“That’s no way to treat the only other human on this island,” you respond lightly, trying to hide how insulted you really are.
(C/n) stops walking and faces you. “So, because we’re trapped here together, we have to become best friends?”
“I…didn’t say that,” you say hesitantly, taken aback by his seriousness.
“Look, when - if - we get rescued, I plan to forget this all happened and go back to living my life. We will not be best friends, got it?”
Suddenly you feel defensive. “Hey, I didn’t ask for this. But now that we’re here, the least we can do is work together to try to stay alive. That may require occasionally interacting, and if that upsets you then toughen up!”
(C/n) snorts and starts walking away. Seething with hurt and resentment, you turn on your heel and storm off in the other direction.
You spend the rest of the afternoon retrieving sticks and logs from the forest, doing your best to build a makeshift shelter. You try to recall everything you know from elementary school Girl Scouts, and random tidbits from the internet. At last, you step back and admire your work. A clumsy but not unfriendly little tent of sticks leans against the widest palm tree you could find. You crawl inside and discover that it’s actually quite roomy. Feeling proud of your handiwork, you grab some extra sticks and sit down with the ambitious new goal of starting a fire before it gets dark.
After what feels like an eternity of rubbing sticks together, feeling ridiculous, and cursing, you throw the sticks away angrily. You’ll obviously have to go without a fire tonight. Maybe tomorrow it’ll suddenly make sense. Right now, as the sky starts to darken, nothing makes sense.
You crawl back under your haphazard assembly of sticks and lie down. Alone and still for the first time in hours, the gnawing hunger that remained dormant for most of the day now eats a hole in your insides. You wonder if it’s possible for your body to consume itself, because that’s what it feels like. The urge to find food, any food, is overwhelming, and yet the sudden feeling of hopelessness is even more so. How could you have acted so positive all day, when in reality you don’t stand a chance? (C/n), that jerk, was right. You’re going to die here, in the middle of nowhere.
You curl up and try to erase all the thoughts in your mind, but you can feel the shock of recent events fading away as the grim reality truly sinks in for the first time. Fear suffocates you, and you find yourself struggling to breathe. A tear escapes your eye and you brush it away. Crying won’t do you any good, that’s for sure. But even so, more tears well up. Your sides shake silently as the depression settles over you like a dark, heavy blanket, eventually dragging you into sleep once more.
(C/n) finds you in the morning. You’re awoken by his shouts, calling your name. They grow closer and closer until you feel his hand on your shoulder, shaking you gently. You don’t move, partly because you don’t want to and partly because you can’t. You’re completely depleted of energy, and the only thing you feel now is that gnawing hunger, tearing you apart from the inside.
“(Y/n)?” He shakes you again. “Wake up.” He waits for a response. “(Y/n), please wake up.”
After a moment his hand leaves your shoulder, and you hear the sticks of your shelter clattering together, falling away from you onto the sand. You’re lying in the open, a cool morning breeze caressing your cheeks. (C/n) turns you onto your back and shakes you again. “Come on, (y/n), wake up, please…” You hear the worry in his voice, but can’t seem to make yourself move.
It’s when (c/n) puts a finger on your neck to feel a pulse that something stirs inside you. He thinks you’re dead? Well, that’s just silly. You try to open your mouth, or even your eyes. Now his ear is on your chest, probably listening for a heartbeat. His hair tickles your chin. You manage to open your mouth.
“I’m…not…dead,” you croak out.
(C/n) lifts his head off your chest and you can feel his stare, as well as his relief. “Well, good,” he says. Then, “You did that on purpose.”
You would make a snappy comeback, but that would require too much energy. It’s easier just to lie there. Accept death, as (c/n) kept saying.
“(Y/n), seriously, get up.” (C/n) nudges you. “Hello?” He sounds concerned again. After a moment, he says, “Open your mouth.” You decline to obey.
Another moment passes. “I have food.” At the sound of that magic word, your mouth opens all on its own. Something enters. You recognize the taste of banana, and slowly chew and swallow.
(C/n) lets out a slight chuckle. “Good. Have the rest.” He puts the banana in your hand. At this, you finally open your eyes.
(C/n) is kneeling over you. The first thing you notice is his lack of a shirt. The next thing you notice is the strip of cloth tied around his head. He’s doing that makeshift headband thing from every survival movie, and dammit, he’s pulling it off. You hate to admit it, but he looks sexy. By comparison, you must be a mess. You can feel the layer of grime on your face, except where tears from last night left tracks. You’re still in only your bikini, which is pretty dirty by now, too.
You decide to sit up, with some difficulty, and take another bite of banana. It’s a bit unripe but you’ll take what you can get. “Where did you find this?”
“I can show you later. I’ve been up for a while, and I’ve found a lot of stuff.” (C/n) smiles at you, an unusual and disorienting sight.
You point to his new headpiece. “Is this your shirt?”
“Yeah, I hemmed it a little,” he jokes. “Oh, and I brought the rest for you.” He hands you a lump of cloth. “This should be short enough to fit you now.”
You hold up the shirt. It looks mostly intact, with just a couple inches missing from the bottom. You pull it on over your head, enjoying the feeling of real clothing again. It’s almost like you’re back home, away from this nightmare. A fresh tear wells up, and you take this chance to wipe your face with it, using the edge of (c/n)’s shirt. He watches you, concern etched across his features.
When you’re finished, you sit staring at nothing. (C/n) lets you sit in silence for a minute before speaking in a low voice.
Your voice comes out a whisper.
“I lost hope.”
For a while neither of you says anything. Then (c/n) says, “I’m sorry.” He gazes apologetically at you. “You were right, we need each other. I don’t know why I acted like I did. I…I don’t like to open up. I don’t want to make myself vulnerable. I can’t be like you. But I promise I’ll be helpful from now on. I’m not going to be negative anymore. I just need you to stay positive, too.” His eyes implore you to respond.
You let the words sink in, still in disbelief that (c/n) could put together so many sentences at once - and that he sounds so sincere. Your sudden moral disintegration must have rattled him. You start getting to your feet, and (c/n) immediately wraps an arm around your waist, supporting you.
“Thanks.” You take a few more bites of the banana and then toss the peel away. (C/n) starts to lead you down the beach. “This way.”
You arrive at a spot on the island where (c/n) obviously tried to set up camp. There is a small shelter of sticks, shaped like a very short, wide box but admittedly sturdier than yours. You notice the piece of wood with Mary still legible on it, resting on the roof. “How do you sleep in this?” you ask, pointing towards the shelter, which is less than two feet tall.
“Simple.” (C/n) slides under the stick roof and lies down with his head sticking out, grinning at you. “It’s quite comfortable. We can share if you want.”
A light blush colors your cheeks. “Um, okay. Thanks.” You look around. More sticks are piled up a few feet away. “Did you get a fire started?”
(C/n) crawls back out of the shelter. “No, I didn’t know how,” he says, looking a bit embarrassed.
“That’s okay. We can try again tonight.”
You give him a peculiar look. “What’s with Mr. Positivity all of a sudden?”
He smiles. “One of us has to do it. I’m just subbing in until you’re all better.”
“I’ll be better with more food,” you tell him.
“Right, food!” (C/n) looks excited. “I found so much fruit in the forest. You were right about that too, of course. There are even coconuts. If we can break one open we can store water, and stuff like that.” He holds his hand out to you. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
You take his hand and start walking back into the forest together.
Hours later you emerge from the trees, stuffed with bananas, berries, and even mangoes. You can hardly believe your luck - well, not the luck that got you stranded on an island in the first place, but it could be worse. However, you’ve discovered that coconuts do not taste that great with no sugar.
As you arrive back at your new home, (c/n) announces, “I have to pee.”
“Where are you gonna go?” you ask curiously.
“In the ocean, dummy. Where have you been going?”
“I didn’t eat for like two days. I’m pretty sure there was nothing to…yeah.”
(C/n) shrugs and goes off, splashing out into the water a few feet. You turn away, smiling slightly. After a few seconds (c/n) calls out, “The water is really nice, you should come in!”
You laugh. “No way, I’m not swimming with your pee.”
“You were fine with all the fish pee, what’s wrong with mine?”
You roll your eyes but start walking out towards the ocean, stepping cautiously into the water at least twenty feet away from (c/n). It is quite warm, and the gentle lapping around your ankles relaxes you. You take another step forward. Looking around for (c/n), you realize you can’t see him in the water anymore.
Before you can turn and check the beach, something crashes into you from behind. You shriek and fall forward into the water, (c/n)’s heavy body pushing you down. Struggling to shove him off, your hands slide against his slippery arms and chest, and you don’t fail to notice when your fingers brush up against his abs. Feeling a little flustered at the proximity of his tan, wet body, you finally roll out from under him and run away as fast as the water will allow.
(C/n) gets up and chases after you, so you turn around to fight him, splashing water into his fast-approaching face. You scream a little too, as if this will ward him off. But despite your efforts, his hands land on your waist and you crash down into the shallow water together.
You give up and lie back, laughing and trying to catch your breath. The two of you lie there for a moment, breathing heavily. (C/n) grins down at you. “Nice try, but you can never escape me.” He stands up and grabs your hands, pulling you to your feet.
You glance out onto the horizon. Though it’s light out, night isn’t that far away. “The sun is gonna set soon. Let’s try and build that fire now.”
(C/n) mumbles in agreement, and you walk back to the piles of wood on the beach. You pick up a couple sticks. “Okay, this can’t be that hard. I’ve seen them do it on TV. Who cares if I tried for an hour and it didn’t work?”
“Well, I beg to differ,” (c/n) interjects, “but I’ve learned to appreciate that attitude.” He winks.
Strangely touched, you smile and squat down with your sticks. Realizing you need tinder, you ask (c/n) to get you a stringy piece of bark. You shred it as well as you can and arrange it in a pile, throwing in a couple pieces of dried palm leaf. Well, this isn’t ideal. Then you remember the coconuts. The stringy brown fibers could make perfect tinder. (C/n) has a few coconuts in a pile for future use, so you pull off as much fiber as you can and make a bundle out of it, adding it to your pile.
Next you get the flattest piece of wood you can find and lay it down in front of you. You pick up a short stick with a relatively pointed end, make a notch in the flat piece of wood, and then start twirling the stick between your palms. (C/n) sits next to you, watching with great interest.
“I’ve never successfully done this, but…I think this is how it’s supposed to look…” you explain anxiously. There must be something you’re doing wrong, besides the less-than-ideal materials you’ve chosen. After a few minutes of twirling the stick with no results, you sigh and stop for a moment. “Maybe this was a dumb idea.”
(C/n) grabs the stick from you. “No, no, we can do it. Let me try.” He tries to imitate your actions, but it looks clumsy and the stick keeps sliding off the board.
“Couldn’t you have done Boy Scouts when you were little? It would be really helpful right now.” Impatiently, you take the stick back and start twirling it again. “See, this is what you’re supposed to do.”
As you show him, a tiny wisp of smoke appears. A high pitched squeal of excitement comes out of your mouth, and (c/n) laughs. “Smoke! We have smoke! Keep going.”
But your hands are starting to blister from all the rubbing. “I can’t. It hurts.”
“Okay. I got it, don’t worry.” (C/n) puts his hands on the stick and you quickly remove yours, not wanting to lose a second of the friction. He rubs his hands together like you did, more successfully this time. The wisp of smoke grows, and soon, a small ember appears. You gasp. “Oh my God, keep going! You got it!”
The ember grows, and once it’s big enough you stop him, picking up the piece of wood and carefully tipping the ember onto the pile of coconut and bark fibers. A tiny flame appears and largens, quickly engulfing the pile of tinder.
You and (c/n) gasp and shriek and jump up and down, grabbing each other and dancing gleefully around your tiny fire. “We did it! We did it!” You can barely breathe from excitement. (C/n) grabs your face. “You’re a genius.”
Your cheeks heat up a bit. “You’re the one who started the fire.” Then you look back at your creation. “Wait, we should add more wood before it goes out.”
The two of you grab sticks of various sizes and try to catch them on fire, but progress is slow. Most of the branches seem to be too green. “We need something more dead.” You glance around, spotting the piece of boat on top of the shelter. You pick it up. “Hey, this could work.”
Suddenly (c/n)’s joyful expression shifts. His face hardens. “No!” he shouts, snatching it away from you.
Shocked, you stand frozen. “I…uh, I’m sorry…”
(C/n) turns away and pokes through the pile of sticks, finding one that seems less green than the others and shoving it into the fire. It catches and he sits back down on the sand, avoiding your eyes.
You sit down hesitantly across from him, on the other side of the fire, and watch it in silence for a minute. (C/n) traces the burnt blue letters on the piece of boat. Out on the horizon, the sun is just beginning to set.
Finally (c/n) speaks up, slowly, as if it causes him great pain. “Mary was my mother’s name. We named the boat after her.”
You’re not sure what to say. After a moment, he continues. “She died when I was young.”
“I’m so sorry.” You watch his face. His eyes are fixed on the piece of wood.
“When the boat exploded…it was like I killed the last piece of her we had left.” He stares now into the fire. “Maybe if I die here, I’ll get to see her again.”
“Don’t say that.” You crawl around the fire to sit next to him, putting a cautious hand on his bare shoulder. “People love you, and they need you.”
“Who?” (C/n) looks up at you. “My father? He doesn’t need me. I don’t even think he cares.”
“Yes, he does.”
“You don’t even know him.” (C/n) glares accusingly at you.
“He cares, I know he does.” You know how bad that sounds, but can’t think of what else to say. You feel for him, and wish you could say something that would help in some way. You take a deep breath. “And…I know it won’t mean anything, but…I care. And I need you.”
He searches your face, perhaps seeing the sincerity there. Then he looks back down at his feet and wipes his eyes. “It means something. Thanks.”
You put an arm around him and lean against him, hoping to be of some comfort. For a while longer, neither of you says anything, watching as the sun goes down, setting the ocean on fire.
When the last bit of light is getting sucked out of the sky, you finally stand up and slide into the shelter with (c/n). You lie close together to conserve heat as the air gets cooler, you in only your bikini bottoms and (c/n)’s t-shirt, and him wearing only swim trunks. “Good night, (c/n),” you whisper.
He pulls you closer in response. “Good night, (y/n).”
You fall asleep to the sound of waves lapping at the shore.
The next morning, for once, you wake up first. The sunlight hits (c/n)’s face from the entrance to the stick shelter, and you admire the way it lights up his face. He looks so peaceful. Not to mention gorgeous. You shake your head slightly and crawl outside.
Your stomach grumbles, so you make a quick trip to the forest to find some more fruit. When you get back to the beach, (c/n) is already awake, sitting on the sand. He gets up when he sees you. “Where did you go?” he asks anxiously.
“I went to get some food,” you say, pointing to the forest.
“I got so worried. Don’t leave without telling me,” he says, a small whine in his voice. You chuckle. “Okay, I’m sorry.” You hold out a banana. “I brought this for you.”
“One measly banana?” (C/n) scoffs. “You underestimate my hunger. We’re going back in there.” He grabs your hand and marches you back into the trees.
After gorging on fruit, (c/n) points up to a tall tree with protruding branches. “That looks like the perfect tree to climb.”
You follow his finger. “Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll die.”
“Never climbed a tree before?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Let me show you how it’s done.” He drops a mango rind and throws himself onto the trunk of the tree, grasping onto its branches. He looks like a monkey, shimmying up the tree, and you giggle at the sight. He settles onto a forked branch high above your head and waves down. You wave back. Then he jumps down, almost crashing into you before you leap backwards.
“Your turn.” (C/n) grins and pushes you forward. “Up you go. It’s easy.”
“Unlike you, I’m not part monkey,” you remind him. Nevertheless, you approach the tree and grab a low-hanging branch, hoisting yourself up. You glance back apprehensively at (c/n), who gives you a thumbs up. “I’ll catch you if you fall!” He holds out his arms and grins again.
Swallowing, you continue up the tree, managing to get a few feet up. When you look back down, you realize how much scarier it looks from up here. Suddenly you feel dizzy. “I’m done!” you announce, hoping he can’t hear the tremor in your voice.
“Pssh, very well, jump back down.”
“I prefer to climb down safely, thank you very much.” But as you finish your sentence, the branch in your right hand bends and then breaks with a snapping sound. “Shit.” You try to find another handhold but can’t, and end up hanging on with just one hand.
(C/n)’s voice floats up. “You can fall, I got you!” You roll your eyes despite your fear. No way are you trusting him. Unfortunately, you are left without a choice as your remaining hand slips, and suddenly you’re falling.
You land in (c/n)’s arms, but his knees buckle under the sudden weight and he falls to the ground. You land on your back on the forest floor and he lands on top of you.
“Ow,” you complain, rubbing your butt.
“Sorry.” (C/n) smiles apologetically. You laugh softly and he joins in.
Without getting off of you, (c/n) reaches out and plucks a nearby flower. He tucks it behind your ear and smiles. “That’s cute.”
“Get another one,” you say, and he obliges, handing you another flower. You put it behind his ear. “Now you look cute too.”
“Thank you.” (C/n) grins down at you. His eyes wander across your face and down to your mouth. Then they meet yours for a second before he lowers his head and touches his lips to yours.
After a second he pulls back, searching your eyes. You smile and put your hand on the back of his head, pulling him back down. (C/n) brings his hands to your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. For a minute everything else just goes away, leaving the two of you, flowers in your hair, him lying on top of you. His lips are soft and he tastes like fruit.
Finally (c/n) smiles and rolls off of you, lying down next to you. “I should probably let you breathe. It would be sad if you suffocated right before we got rescued.”
“Mhmm,” you agree. You move your hand over and touch his. He twines your fingers together. You lie there in blissful serenity for who knows how long, letting all your worries drift away, simply enjoying each other’s company.
That evening, after you build another fire successfully, you sit together looking out at the water. (C/n) plays with your hair.
“Remember when I got all angry and said we couldn’t be friends.” He makes a face. “I’m sorry. I was being stupid.”
“I know, who wouldn’t want to be friends with me?” you respond jokingly.
“I’m serious. If we get rescued…” he pauses. “When, I mean. When we get rescued…I don’t want to just go our separate ways and never see each other again.”
You look up at him. He hooks an arm under your legs and pulls you into him like a baby. “I don’t care what happens, but I’m not letting you go.”
You smile to yourself. “Good. Cause I don’t plan to go.” You lean against him. “After all we’ve been through, all the trouble I went through to keep you alive, I am not going to let you just walk away. I mean, you owe me, like, a ton,” you add teasingly.
(C/n) chuckles. “Well, good thing we agree.”
You lapse back into comfortable silence. As you look out onto the water, you see a movement, and squint your eyes to see more clearly. You must be hallucinating, because it almost looks like a ship is on the horizon, coming in your direction.
“(C/n),” you say slowly. “Do you see something - over there -” You point, and you hear a sharp intake of breath. “Holy shit, (y/n). That’s a ship.”
You spring into action. “Get a tall branch!” you holler as you search the remaining pile of wood and check to ensure the fire is still going. When (c/n) returns with a long stick, you poke the end of it into the fire, desperately willing it to catch. At last, it does, and you immediately hold it high over your head.
“Get on my shoulders.” (C/n) squats on the ground. You withhold your concerns about weighing too much and climb on, almost dropping the stick in the process. (C/n) stands up slowly, and you manage to cling on, wobbling precariously. You hold up the burning torch and wave it above your head. Smoke rises into the sky. You pray feverishly for someone to notice, and you know (c/n) is doing the same. “Please, please, please,” he mutters. “Come on!” you add under your breath.
The ship continues coming towards you. It gets closer and closer until there is no longer any uncertainty that they’ve seen you. (C/n) kneels back down and lets you slide off, and you cling to each other, watching as an anchor is dropped and a smaller boat is lowered into the water. Tears prick your eyes as you think of home and, for the first time, really consider that you will make it back okay. And no matter what, you will have (c/n) to support you. You hug him tighter and wait for your rescuers to arrive and bring you back to civilization.