Creed drives us through town, rain beating against the windows as we wind our way down the hills and streets in search of Fish and the answers to our pressing questions.

When the tourists weren't swarming in for the summer, eager to catch a glimpse of the scenic view of the ocean from the many houses that lined the hill, Astoria was an amazing place. In October, multicolored lights and pumpkin decorations came out, straight out of a Tim Burton film. Then, in the winter, the snow came, covering everything in a blanket of white.

"So where do you want to start looking for this guy?" Creed asks me, and he brings the van to a stop next to an old guy walking a fluffy black poodle past a bakery, his bright yellow umbrella fluttering against the wind. "Are you sure he didn't just go home like a normal person?"

"Maybe. But I just want to make sure he's okay, you know? " I cast a glance in both directions, unsure of Fish's exact location. Had he really gone back home? Had he decided to spend the night under a bridge? The problem was that I didn't really know the guy that well or what he was thinking. He could have been anywhere at this point.

"How about we try stopping by his house first?" I offer up, "I think I know the lady who's letting him stay with her. Mr. Smith mentioned her when he begged me to take care of Fish. She fostered that weird kid in third grade that liked to stuff peanut butter crackers into his pants, remember?"

"I don't know. I never went to third grade, genius," Creed replies, his eyes rolling as he presses the gas.

"You flunked out of third grade?" I say, kind of surprised at that.

"Nah," Creed says, turning down a worn street and passing my step-dad's favorite fish market. "I skipped ahead a few classes," the older boy explains, "The teachers thought I was acting out because I was too smart for the other kids."

"And were you? Acting out, I mean?" I reply, kind of curious to know more about him, even if we weren't together or planning on hooking up again or anything. 

Before Creed can respond, we pass by the seawall, and I catch a glimpse of someone blonde in the distance walking down the nearby pier. "Stop the car!" I yell, and my heart skips a beat when Creed slams on the break.

"What the hell, Tennyson?" He demands, "You don't just yell like that when someone's driving!"

"I think I see him! I think I see Fish, Creed! He's standing on the pier! " I shout back, and I quickly unbuckle and clamber out of the van, slamming the door shut behind me. 

"Carter! You're fucking crazy, you know that?!" Creed yells at me from the curb when I start running for the seawall, and I scramble over as fast as I can. "You barely know this little freak!"

I sprint for the pier, the small figure becoming clearer the closer I get to him. It was definitely Fish, in the same clothes he had been wearing when he ran off earlier after Anderson Crick doused him.  His hair was soaked, plastered to his ears and neck, and his shirt and jeans sagged on him, drenched and heavy with water.

 "Fish!" I yell, scared that he might be having some kind of breakdown and that this was his way of dealing with the pain. If he dove into the water during the storm, there was a chance that he wouldn't come back out again.

Fish turns around when he hears me yelling, and his eyes do this squinty thing, searching the shore before he spots me running towards him. His expression brightens in an instant, and I feel relief when I reach the pier and start down the concrete path toward him.

I had only come out here maybe five times in my entire life, mostly when my dad was still alive and once on a date that had ended with the guy throwing my Chiptole in the ocean before he stormed off. It was peaceful, though, I had to give it that. Especially so late in the day when everyone was already home having dinner with their families.

"Fish?" I approach him when I finally reach the end of the pier, panting a little. "What are you doing all the way out here? W-why didn't you go home after you ran away? " Rain pours down on me, slides down my lips and makes me sputter. 

Fish shrugs a little, then he turns back to the roaring ocean just below us, the water thrashing wildly against the side of the concrete wall. 

The water was an unpredictable thing, capable of taking anyone who stepped inside of it forever. Even now, I feel a sense of dread and awe at the sight of the lightning crackling over the deep blue waves. 

"Is that where you're from? The sea? " I ask Fish after a moment of silence passes between us.

Fish exhales slowly, like it frustrated him or something that he couldn't say. 

I knew it had to be hard for him to not be able to answer me or explain what had happened to him. Truthfully, he was probably just as confused as I was. 

I reach over after a moment and touch his shoulder, both of us soaked at this point. "It's okay," I say, "Fish. You don't have to say anything. "

Fish looks at me with those deep blue eyes, a touch of sadness in their depths, before he leans into me, his head resting on my shoulder, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me close. 

And then it's just us, staring out at the sea.

Well, for a little while, at least.

"Hey!" Creed shouts from his van, "You fuckers are taking too long! I'm going home! " 

Fish and I turn to watch Creed's ugly van roar off into the storm, a cloud of black smoke trailing behind him. A second later, I get a text on my wet phone and pull it out to look at the screen.

"Stay away from Luke Asher or you'll pay big time."