The lights are usually on at night. On the edges of the yacht's exterior and inside the captain's quarters are multicolored LEDs. With one turn of a dial remote, meadow green can change to sunshine yellow. Blood red to ocean blue. Even in Boulevard's man cave, the lamps had this option. Through this amalgamation of flashing bulbs, he was able to find the color he thought the fondest of – white.
Him learning that this shade was his favorite wasn't figured out from inside the boat. Like when you leave a bustling city and go to the calming country, the night sky shows its face. Light pollution is no more, and nature's luminescence takes up the whole view. Every night when Boulevard first stayed in the yacht, he tried a new color to twinkle off of the boat. Most of the exterior lights flicker on and off at a moment's notice, attracting the occasional Glutton to fall into the water and sink. The lights hurt Boulevard's eyes whenever he looks at them for prolonged periods. So, on days when he wanted to go to bed after a long day of no catches, he forgoes the lightshow and sees the moon. Dead center, he sees it shine down on him.
Boulevard has trouble sleeping. When one can't sleep because they're forced to hide underneath a Glutton corpse as a herd passes by or when they have to sleep for a long day of involuntary labor at a camp they don't know the name of, letting happy dreams flood one's mind becomes unrealistic. The biggest reason rest doesn't come easy is that Boulevard always needs to sleep with one eye open. If there's a monster -- no matter if its heart doesn't or does beat -- and it finds you defenseless, it's over. Even the strongest barbarians are mere mice to a dagger, an exposed neck, and the vastness of sleep.
But it's been four years since any human came Boulevard's way. He liked seeing his way to the bathroom with the aid of his bulbs. Tonight, however, the only color present was the green from a night vision scope. No gun attached, but it worked as intended to protect Boulevard from that girl in the park station.
The pure juxtaposition between her and the girl he met four years ago was mind boggling. What now seemed like yesterday, a deranged woman pounced on Boulevard for no reason but to kill and "free him to the new rulers of this world." Now, one teased him on why he didn't shave. "It's a natural warmth mechanism. Read Darwin." He grumbled.
The reason this raised such concern is that, during these last couple years, Boulevard had spoken to no one. The humans he'd encounter on the road before he settled down in Unmei National Park would either fight, run, or beg for mercy. Was he that scary? Yes, he had big muscles from his general surviving and a more than broad nose with a square shaped jaw, but he's not threatening, is he?
When Boulevard was fourteen, he met a group of people who strived for community and humanity. It was with this group of six that he felt the happiest. He was separated from them because of a pincer by the "Gnawers". He followed the group's trail, but it led to zero successes. Then the wars started happening and Boulevard really wanted nothing to do with it. But wants are flimsy.
Is Boulevard the unreasonable one? This avoidance of the recent world may have left him blissfully ignorant to current events that brand themselves on the psyche like searing a logo onto cattle, but is groveling at the sight of anyone reasonable?
Boulevard remembered all those who had helped him get to this point. Why they lived and fought. Were these remaining survivors just so devoid of hope? It saddened and scared him, seeing those people. Boulevard had seen those types – humans who had given up before – in chains. If someone as reclusive as he could break through the worst of the world, then others can as well. Of that, he was certain. But those people will either fizzle out or fester. Which one is worse?
Boulevard wanted to have blood coursing through his veins, no matter what. If he were to die from a stray bullet or a nick of a tooth, it would be a waste of his life and all the sacrifices that were made so he could be here. "No matter what." He repeated to himself in a shallow tone.
Boulevard's thoughts have been wandering so much that his eyes went to the stars rather than to his 8x zoom scope. He lightly slapped his cheeks so he could be focused on his mission. There needed to be one hundred percent safety. Is this woman deceiving him? Her nonchalant manner was the first thing to plan around.
She was playing video games. A vast stereotype, yes, but he never saw anyone engage themselves in any hobby when they were trying to survive. Does she care for nothing? She also didn't hide, which was the main action that caught Boulevard off guard. The girl could've shot at him and he would've reacted faster. Boulevard had always wanted to try gaming, but aren't there more crucial things afoot?
Her caramel thighs had no meat on their bones. She had tan lines that stopped at the edges of her jorts like her skin turned from evening to night. She's been around – always on the move – but who hasn't? When Boulevard searches, he will look for a hollowed face.
The inner machinations of what made the girl rise to try and look Boulevard in the eyes as he left the station is one that needed research. Though, if a problem can be avoided, he supposed he'd rather not solve it at all. The camouflaged ocean was perfect for a good night's rest.
The captain's quarters are the most innovative part of the ship. The whole room is a 360-degrees glass cone with a rounded tip and two white cushioned sofas that fit into the curves of the circular walls, topped off with one high seating leather chair that allowed the captain to sit up and see the whole scope of the sea. Boulevard sat himself down in the cavity that fit his bottom perfectly, flipped three switches to rev up the engine, and slammed a red button to hear her purr.
If the mysterious girl decides to search for Boulevard, she won't find him on land. Lights off and a full moon all lead up to an uneventful slumber in the beanbag pile of blood ridden clothes he called his mattress. A relaxing sleep for a more than eventful day, considering what each day for the past years have been. Boulevard nestled into the smelly clump of outerwear -- gripping the sleeve of a white, button down shirt -- and gazed upwards to let the wind of sleep pull him along.
His eyes closed, but his brain didn't turn off for minutes on end. Boulevard understood this tiredness and decided to look for constellations. Contrary to what is shown in his day-to-day life, Boulevard loved astronomy above all else. Seeing pictures of whole galaxies and nebulas in books; everything contained within such phenomenons of the universe down to the atomic level had endless opportunities for thought and expansion.
Boulevard raised his hand to the night sky and placed stars in the gaps between each finger. "I wish to explore the universe." He spoke. No thoughts were behind his words. No matter how impossible, Boulevard always thought of how each experience and each modicum of knowledge learned would help him get one step closer to the border of the milky way.
"Really? You can come with me!" The aforementioned girl said, her hand extended next to Boulevard's. He yelled in a deep tone, sounding like a walrus, and jerked back from the woman, sliding under the guard rails atop the boat and falling into the water. Shaking off his sudden freezing and shocked nerves, Boulevard knew one thing. He knew he could hold his breath for three minutes.