Chapter Text
The lighthouse was old. It had been built out of necessity, the sharp rocks and deceptively shallow waters causing many shipwrecks to scatter the ocean floor around the island, their masts still sometimes sticking out above the water at low tide as grim reminders of the past. As a result, the interior of the lighthouse was plain and simple, made for functionality rather than comfort. It had been fitted with electricity sometime in the 1940s and hot water had finally been added by Jure himself just 2 years ago when he got sick of having to boil water on the stove for his baths.
He slowly made it feel like home, bringing furniture, rugs, pictures and books over from the mainland in his little boat or on the big ferry that brought the tourists that kept the money coming in. The small living space was connected to the lighthouse by a wooden door that had various names carved into it, previous keepers and their families.
After leaving his coat on its hook by the front door, Jure knelt in front of the fireplace in the living room, going through the motions of stacking some logs and preparing the kindling. He struck a match and blew gently on the embers, sparking them into a flame he quickly added more tinder to until the logs above had caught. His mind was quiet as his hands worked, the only sounds the crashing of the waves onto the rocks, a constant wash of white noise that lulled him to sleep each night. Tonight was quiet at least.
It would take a while for the home to warm up even with the small space and the soft rug on the floor, so Jure kept his jumper on as he ascended the stairs (125 of them) to reach the very top of the lighthouse. It had once burnt oil and blubber, the ceiling still covered in a layer of stubborn ash that never went away no matter how much it was scrubbed. That was back when lighthouse keepers were really needed. When someone needed to be there to watch the light and keep it burning through the night to steer the ships away from shore. When the light was fragile and temperamental and dangerous.
He debated turning the light off and plunging the island into darkness, allowing the stars above to shine in all their glory. There were no boats due to pass by tonight and even those that did always had some kind of navigation system that told them to steer clear of the island. The tourists weren't here yet so the only people that would miss the lighthouse were Jure and his friends in the hotel. His hand reached for the switch that would shut off the gigantic bulb and stop the spinning.
But he didn’t. Something told him he shouldn’t. The inky black sea stretched out below him, as far as the eye could see. He was at the end of the world out here. No one knew where he was aside from the three men he’d just shared a drink with. They were most likely asleep in bed already anyway, Bojan and Kris curled up together while Nace enjoyed his double bed fully. He was the only one that would notice the light had turned off. The only one that would care.
He sighed and turned back down to the staircase, leaving the light spinning, shining out as a beacon into the night that screamed “I am here! These waters are dangerous but I am here.” Maybe the fish would enjoy the blinking light.