Taking a b r e a k from reality

[[x] Chase Stevens]

The night was muggy and the air was thick. Lightening cut through the sky; sending a wave of bright light over the beach's tan earth. Not really a night to be wandering around, but one brave soul managed to venture out. The time was inching into the early morning hours and not one other person could be found along the beach side. Just how he liked it. Him and only him. This young man didn't care for company much and was much of a loner. He wasn't anti-social and he wasn't afraid of people either. He just preferred to be alone. Is that such a crime?

Whatever. Chase probably wouldn't even listen to you anyway. Well, that is if you were able to speak to him in the first place. You see, this boy isn't much of a talker either. Speaking only when it can't be avoided. He doesn't really laugh or smile much now because, honestly, he doesn't have a reason to. Call him what you would like. Either you will get a complete ignorance or a quick middle finger thrown your way. He also doesn't care what people say about him. They have a right to their opinions just like he has the right to think they're stupid. All is right in the world then because when Chase starts caring about what people think about him is the day this world ends.

His raven fringe swooped low in his face, hiding his rather stunning blue eyes. The rest of the dark locks were covered by the hood of his dark grey zip up which was underneath the black blazer he wore now. His hands that were clad in the usual black fingerless gloves were also jammed in his tight blue jeans pockets and his feet carried him lazily down the beach.

The lightening didn't scare him in any way and he didn't mind the ever so bothersome warmth feeling that engulfed him. Chase's mind was else where and whatever was surrounding him now was just a fading memory. His gaze was trained on the ground in front of him and the noises of the night had no affect on him; didn't make him tense or even flinch. Suddenly, one of his gloved hands was taken from his jeans pocket and was shoved into the blazer's.

The hand of his only dug around for a short moment. He found the tiny box as one of the corners pricked his finger; only causing a light sting. Chase pulled the box of smokes from the pocket quickly and replaced his blue gaze onto it. He wouldn't say smoking had become an addiction but he always seemed to carry a pack with him where ever he went. The normal amount he smoked though was just one, sometimes stretching it to two. Other than that he just brought them with him for... hmm... decoration. Stupid in some people's minds, but Chase could careless, remember?

He didn't feel like taking a drag tonight so he placed the box back into his pocket and then switched his eyes onto his fingernails for a second. At the moment they were painted black and the polish was chipping off. Chase shrugged and re-jammed the hand into his jeans pocket, continuing on his way and staring with a blank expression at the sand.