He was swimming for dear life. The starlight on the water did well to disguise his silvery hair, darkened and weighted down by the warm sea, though the white of his vest would probably stand out like a beacon, even under the waves. The tides helped to carry his exhausted form toward the sanctuary of the distant islet, pushing and pulling him closer and closer.
After a while his strokes faded and all he could do was float. A passing piece of driftwood offered salvation and he gripped it for a few minutes before his body gave out completely.
He slipped beneath the waves, unable to fight as his head slipped beneath the crystalline surface of the vast ocean. The moonlight filtered down from the distant heavens, drifting in liquid ripples toward his sinking form. As he fell into the darkness, --not such an unusual thing for him; he could have laughed at the irony-- the boy’s aqua eyes drifted shut. As he fell he lifted a hand, snug inside a white glove that didn’t reach his fingers, toward the light as if to catch the grip of a friend above him.
But there was no such savior and he was alone.

Alone with the darkness and the silence.

Forever.