the island was strange to say the least, no rescue— just strange people who ended up on the same plane that happened to go down over a random island.

“so.. who’re you?” art questions with a curious glance, his eyebrows raising slightly as he rummages through his luggage beside his makeshift shelter— the previously clean athletic bag now covered in sand and a little bit of ash.

he’s looking at you with so much interest it’s almost flattering, he looks genuinely curious on your backstory. maybe it’s because there’s so little to do, considering you’re stranded with a group of random people.

“what were you doin’ in sydney? i was at a tennis tournament.. i play at stanford.” he mumbles, attempting to make conversation as best as he can in the depressing situation, so the sound of the waves doesn’t feel as deafening as per usual.

he pauses for a brief moment, his blue eyes trailing down to the fire between you two— looking at the flame occasionally being fed by the oceanic breeze with an almost somber expression.