Chapter Text
Would he be on the shore again?
It was all he could think about.
That same man, strong and handsome, fishing along the shoreline and just within sight so that he could be seen by what lurked in the water.
“Lurk” was a rough term, Ethan had been in the area for a while. The ocean was calmer around the shore, and the country wasn’t so aggressive with their fishing policies that it was an uninhabitable place for him.
His kind didn’t stay near the surface as long as he usually did, but they definitely didn’t have as good a reason.
A quick flick of his tail sent him sailing through the water, his form barely revealed from the murky water above. The early morning light shone down on the pale green scales on his lower half, his long tail moving against the water with ease. Toned arms directed him towards his familiar hangout, a small cluster of rocks jutting from the ocean, edges smoothed by years of waves wearing them down.
His perch had yet to be warmed by the early sun, but he knew they would be a comfortable temperature when the sun was at its peak. He’d been drawn to the area by the spring weather, which had made the surrounding ocean pleasant and inviting. But the winter, long and cold as it was, could not keep him away. The humans called this place Daehanmingug. Whatever that meant.
But for the last four months, Ethan had called it home.
Pulling his upper half from the water, he peeked over the rocky outline, watching the man pull back his fishing rod and send the lure flying out into the blue. Ethan cupped a hand around his mouth, drawing in a quick breath of air and sending out a short burst of elated notes towards him.
He noticed immediately, Ethan could see the smile form on his strong jaw before disappearing to whistle the tune back to him. The man settled himself on his homemade dock, looking intently out at the ocean and awaiting a response.
This was their game. They would call to each other, meaningless notes and wordless tunes shared between two men who had never met, and still, every morning, Ethan was there.
His fins swirled around the disrupted surface tension of the water in excited twitches as he called louder, making the notes higher and more complicated. Every time, he was answered with a near perfect mirroring, the whistled notes carried far across the water and making Ethan’s heart leap into his throat.
Without fail, they met every morning as the orange light of day set fire to the ocean. The Pacific, his mother had once called it. There were many oceans, none of which he had personally named, but to him there was only one. His home.
He’d memorized specific areas, places where it was warm and shallow, or others where the water ran deep enough to protect him. Ethan was considered young by his kind, but he’d lived longer than most humans, and long enough to have circumnavigated the globe twice. Not that he was counting.
Soon enough, their game was over. He ducked down in the water as his other half was approached by two men he’d seen frequently. Friends, coworkers, perhaps both. Ethan had watched their shared boat from a distance as the trio made regular trips out into deeper waters for more successful fishing trips.
“Don’t go,” he murmured into the empty air. “Don’t go.”
The weather had been growing unpredictable and uncomfortably warm over the last week, the ingredients for a terrible storm. He watched the three men talk amongst themselves lazily, eyes intent on the shortest of them. It didn’t matter that he was short, his human had impressive muscular structure from years of dedicated, hard work. Something Ethan found admirable, amongst other things.
His nose was brushing against the watery surface, his body allowing him to slip down further. A rogue wave caught him off guard, and he curled his tail up suddenly to avoid being seen. When he popped up to the surface again, the friends were treading away from the dock and back around the house. Ethan sighed heavily, running an anxious hand over the gills on his neck. Not today, thank heavens.
The man on the surface sent a long tune towards the swimmer, and Ethan was happy to reply. There wasn’t much more, sadly, but as the human turned to leave he bent down to place something on the dock.
He didn’t wait for anyone to appear, he merely packed up his pole and left.
As much time as Ethan had spent with him, he could never bear to show himself.
Humans lived such short, complicated lives. They swam, but could only breathe air. They feasted on the creatures of the ocean, but also ones with legs. They built metal monsters that cut through the water and struck fear into Ethan’s heart.
But he could share his love with no other.
His tail instinctively curled around the pole of the dock, holding him in place while he inspected his new treasure. It was a wooden statue of a thin fish, with scales carved carefully into the surface and the body made from the driftwood along the shore. It was small enough to fit in his hand, his pale fingers mapping every minute detail of his gift.
He loved it. Squirreling it away in the gap between his scales, he himself had a gift for his human. It was easy enough to find lost artifacts where it was deeper, but finding something worthy of his human’s attention was always a challenge. He had gotten very lucky today, and placed a rusted, but expensive looking pocket watch on the dock. The chain had snapped off, and the hands didn’t work, obviously, but if someone were to give it a little bit of love and attention, it would look quite nice. He was sure.
Ethan cast a mournful look at the man’s home before swishing away. He wanted to be with him, to hold him, to show him how the water fared much better than a noisy life on land. He wanted to run his fingers through the rich, black locks that always looked the perfect amount of windswept.
He wanted to make him happy.
The man lived alone in his small cabin by the sea. He fished regularly, and would disappear every now and again, but was always back by sundown, with only him returning. Ethan had seen regular visits from a similar looking elderly woman and man, presumably his mother and brother. Never a father.
They had had small picnics by the shore, talking and smiling and probably reminiscing about when they were younger. Ethan was sure he was an adorable child. There were probably even pictures of him, small squares of print that presented a window into the past. Ethan hoped he’d leave one for him one day.
He played with the wooden statue more back at his nest, a little alcove in the seafloor a safe distance from the commercial docks and a safe spot to hide his little treasures. Some of the older carvings were damaged by his salt water living conditions, but Ethan had taken the time to draw them into the rock walls around him. Rough carvings where had scratched just deep enough into the surface to leave a clear indent of what had once been.
Ethan would have to go hunting for food soon, snatching up unsuspecting fish and collecting sea grass to satiate the ever-present hunger; for now, he began adding another drawing to his wall.