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Ever since he was a child, Lance had been told the stories.
Stories of a different species, a different city, a different world.
Stories of sleek, powerful tails encased in scales and decorated with pearls and shells. Stories of long, flowing hair that moved with the current and was woven with seaweed. Stories of smooth, pale skin that shimmered under the sunlight and practically glowed under the moonlight. Stories of graceful, effortless dancing that turned the fish into an awestruck audience and the crashing waves into thunderous applause.
Stories of entrancing, melodic songs that filled a man’s head with an intoxicating happiness and made his heart leap with joy within his chest.
Stories of beautiful, haunting songs that filled a man’s head with the daze of a spell and made his heart scream for him to run into the water, to leap off his ship, to go, to find the source of the singing. To pay no mind to the salt water smarting his eyes and filling his lungs as he wades further and further into the ocean’s cold, killer embrace. To ignore the feeling of scales scraping against his skin and teeth sinking into his neck. To do whatever it takes to find the voice that was calling out to him. To die doing so.
Yes, ever since he was a child, he had been told the stories. He heard the stories whispered over a campfire late at night, as his older siblings darted their eyes to the ocean and passed him ear plugs as they hear a crooning note begin to make it’s way to shore. He heard the stories as he was told to place a white lily on an empty casket. He heard the stories when his friend Marcus went missing when they were seven, and no one ever heard from him again. Rumor has it that they found his bloodied handprint smeared against a rock.
His sister, Elena, always claimed that she had seen one of the man eating creatures. She said that the siren looked her in the eyes. She said that her eyes were cold, and they pierced her to her soul. Elena swore that she felt stripped raw by her gaze, and that it’s nearly translucent expressionless face seemed more dead than alive.
Lance had always suspected that she was lying. And now, he knew she was.
Because the siren he is staring at has anything but cold, dead eyes.
In fact, they’re the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen.
They’re grey and shining. They’re brimming with what looks to be confusion, and fear. It’s odd to say, that a creature that could rip him to shreds seems to be afraid of him, but all Lance knows is what’s in front of him. And what’s in front of him is a man- no, not a man- a siren. What’s in front of him is a siren with eyes so deep that all of his breath has escaped him. The crashing waves, the distant sounds of fishermen by the pier, all of it fades away until all he can see is the siren right in front of him.
In all of his years of hearing the stories, Lance never imagined in his wildest dreams that something so destructive could be so captivating.
As he swims closer, the stars reflect off of his tail, and Lance realizes that he should be afraid. He should be terrified, screaming, paddling his board away as hard as he can. He doesn’t, though. Everything in him tells him to stay, to let the creature that can kill him come ever closer, dangerously close, until he can feel the siren’s breath on his skin and let their eyes be separated by only a few inches.
For a moment, Lance wonders if this is what it feels like to be under a siren’s spell. If his gravitation towards his certain doom is because of an otherworldly power holding him tight. But that can’t be. There’s no cotton in his head, only perfect clarity. There’s no yearning of his heart to plunge into the sea, only to look into the eyes of the most beautiful creature on the planet. Besides, he realizes, the siren hasn’t sung a single note.
“Hi,” Lance hears himself say it before he fully processes that he even wants to say anything. “I’m Lance.”
“Hi,” the siren says back, his brow crinkling in confusion. “I’m a siren, and I am supposed to kill you.” He tilts his head slightly. “Why didn’t you run away?”
“Ah, you know,” Lance shrugs, “darn Charlie Horse.”
“I see.”
They sit there for a while, in silence underneath the moon. It should be tense, given the fact that Lance’s life may end at any moment, but instead, he feels relaxed, content. Like this is where he’s meant to be.
The siren clears his throat a bit, then, without looking into Lance’s eyes, says one word. “Keith.”
“What?”
“Earlier, you told me your name. I didn’t tell you mine. It’s Keith.”
Lance nods, then leans back on his palms. “Funny, I always thought that sirens were supposed to have beautiful names.”
The splash hits him like a slap with a power that knocks him off his board. His head breaks the surface and he sputters out a cough as he grabs for his board.
“Keith is a plenty beautiful name,” the siren snaps, crossing his arms.
“Sure it is,” Lance snorts.
“Well what name would you suggest, wise guy?”
“I dunno,” Lance grunts as he tries and fails to wriggle back onto the board, “like, uh, Mermando?”
“Mermando?” He deadpans. “How original.”
“You got a better one?”
“Yeah, I do actually. How about….Keith.”
With that, a laugh bubbles out of Lance’s chest, loud and pure and raw and joyful. It crescendos and decrescendos with the rise and fall of the waves. In that moment, Keith finds himself grateful that sirens can’t blush.
“I didn’t know humans could sing like that.”
Lance’s laughter trails off as he cocks his head. “That wasn’t singing.”
Keith’s brows knit together once again. “But it sounded like music.”
Unfortunately for Lance, humans are very capable of blushing.
“It was a laugh, dude. You know, like, when you hear something funny.”
“Oh.” Keith nods slowly. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard one before.”
“I mean, I could try to make you laugh.” Lance offers with a shrug.
Keith presses his lips together. “That would be nice, but I’m supposed to kill you, remember.”
“Oh.” He hadn’t remembered, actually. “Well,” he sighs, leaning back to float on the water, closing his eyes. “Make it quick.”
“What?”
“Kill me quickly, please. I’d like for there to be no pain.”
Keith moves away from Lance with a quick, angry splash. “You’re just going to let me?”
“Well, yeah.” Lance opens his eyes again and looks towards Keith. “Don’t you need to like, eat human flesh to survive, or whatever?”
“Yeah, but-”
“So,” he interrupted the panicky siren, “I’m not going to blame you for trying to survive. So if you want to kill me, go for it. I’ve accepted my fate.” And it would be an honor to have my blood on your beautiful hands, he thought.
After a moment that seems like an eternity, Keith swims closer to him, grabs him, pulls him into his chest. He closes his eyes, but Lance’s are wide open. Slowly, tremulously, he opens his jaw, and lowers, approaching ever nearer to Lance’s arm. Lance watches as Keith begins shaking his head slowly, seeming to murmur to himself.
Suddenly, in a gruff movement, he pushes Lance away.
“No.”
“Keith, I-”
“No,” Keith says again, more forcefully this time, his eyes gleaming, almost seeming to glow.
Once again, Lance finds himself blown away by his eyes.
Keith swallows. “Make your music again.” He says is slowly, as if he’s almost scared to ask.
“What?”
“Your music,” he repeats, “your laugh.”
Lance reaches for his board, his hands still shaking, unsure of what is going to happen next. “It wasn’t music, dude.”
“Then what is?” Keith asks, seeming genuinely curious. “What does human music sound like?”
Lance smiles a bit. “I’ll show you.”
For the rest of the night, his voice is the one that was lifting over the waves, gruff and unsteady, but beautiful nonetheless. Keith hovers around him, finding himself wanting to come ever nearer to the sound.
He found himself wondering if this is what it felt like to be a human listening to a siren’s song. If the pressing desire, no, pressing need to be near to what is making the sounds that lifts your heart into your throat is a feeling that humans know well.
For once in his life, Keith enjoys listening to a song that doesn’t bring about death and blood, but rather happiness and light.
And in that moment, on the night that their worlds changed forever, Keith found himself the first siren to ever be entranced by a human.