Archive of Our Own ^beta

Ro floated along the water’s surface, letting the currents push him further out to sea. The sun warmed him from overheard, casting its light onto his tanned belly before a cloud came and covered it up.

His tail felt heavier than usual today, an impending weight threatening to pull him back under the water’s surface. His own forced relaxation was the only thing keeping it afloat.

The oceans were rising, it was hard to ignore at this point. He’d always known, everyone did, they just didn’t really talk about it because it seemed unimportant. It was important now.

More human cities and towns were starting to appear underwater, their abandoned belongings floating around in the swirl of the ocean as she took back what was hers. More crews were being sent out to collect the debris before it could further pollute the waters—both humans and merfolk alike.

Ro rather despised the humans.

This would never have been an issue if they had just left everything the way it was, if they’d stopped trying to reshape the environment into their image. Now, not only did they suffer but so did every ocean inhabitant too, forced to deal with the consequences of another, stupid species.

His float was being ruined.

With a heavy sigh he sank back into the water, tensing his muscles to allow himself under. He slowly turned around, his back now to the surface and his gaze casted downward to the sea floor.

He scoffed as he caught a pair of blue eyes peering up at him.

“Thought I’d find you here, Newbie,” the larger merman chirped up with an easy grin, swishing his tail back and forth as he pushed forward.

“Stop calling me that,” Ro gurgled in annoyance, his mood instantly worsened.

“Stop calling you what? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Chase clicked, slowing as he finally reached the smaller mer. He had his head tilted back so their noses were only a foot apart—much too close if Ro said so himself.

“ Newbie ,” Ro said with a sneer.

Chase took to calling him the name ever since he moved colonies—his last one becoming overrun with humans and turning into a tourist attraction—and he joined his hunting group. Which Ro was unfortunate enough to have Chase lead. He was a horrible hunter quite frankly, and he suspected he’d only been given the role because he was related to the colony chief.

“I’ve never called you that. You must be mistaken.” Chase tilted his head to the side now, his smile on too much of a fond edge. Ro scrunched his nose up at him and placed his palm over his face, shoving it down as he swam over the top of it, diving past his back.

Chase sputtered and flailed his arms out as his balance was thrown off, caught slightly in the current.

Ro snickered to himself as he quickly dashed off, spinning in time to see the golden mer recover and race after him. His tail shimmered in the same color as his hair—golden with small fades of brown and highlights of white—his fins a light shade of yellow just tipped with blue. He was well toned, a fact Ro did not like to admit because it made him look down at his own stomach and burn in embarrassment. Chase was too strong for his own good but didn’t seem to know what to do with it; probably one of the most clumsiest hunters Ro had ever had the misfortune of meeting. He had a charming smile that seemed to only enhance his features, whereas when Ro smiled he seemed like a dehydrated blobfish. His eyes were blue like the ocean, and just as deep, a truth more startling than the secrets below.

Ro paled in comparison. He was dull and plain colored, blending in too much with the ocean floor to easily be mistaken as part of it, especially near the shore where it was murkier. He was sort of flimsy and lightweight, with the charisma of a clownfish that told seaweed jokes.

Chase argued these points weren’t true, but Ro drowned those protests out as he did with most words that left the mer’s mouth.

He let himself get tackled as Chase grabbed onto him, fighting the awful urge to laugh as he sent both of them hurtling to the sandy ground. Ro turned them slightly so they bounced harmlessly off the bottom, tails tangling as they spun across.

He lost his battle against laughter and buried his face in Chase’s shoulder, feeling the mer laugh into him as well.

He hated how tender he made him, despite his very deep and bright hatred for him. He was so infuriatingly perfect Ro couldn’t help but despise him. And he despised that regardless of Ro’s despise, Chase still seemed infatuated with the idea they were meant to be very close.

“Alright, alright ! Get off me you bloated whale!” Ro whistled sharply, shaking off the last effects of lingering giggles.

“Ouch, that hurts you know,” Chase pouted down at him as he clicked, pulling back only enough to look down at him.

Ro squirmed in his grasp and tried to separate them, Chase’s chest pressed against his and his tail purposefully draped over the other’s. Another infuriating thing he did to take advantage of his size.

“I don’t care, let me go,” Ro snapped back, placing both hands on Chase’s arms, straining to pull himself free.

Chase sighed dramatically and suddenly let go, sending Ro shooting out of his arms and tumbling over the sand until he eventually settled on the base of his tail. He glared up at Chase as he laughed, feather-falling to the floor on his back.

Ro grumbled under his breath and shoved off the ground with his arms, using his tail to propel himself forward. He quickly left the golden mer behind, ignoring his frantic sounds of panic as he tried to catch up.

The two of them swam side by side through the crystal water, one of the few places left near a body of land that still remained clean. They swam over and through rock formations that jutted in their path, occasionally jostling the other before darting ahead. It was almost childish, these little things they did, but when away from responsibilities and looming eyes Ro didn’t mind. Sort of.

He had a limit of course, one that Chase seemed determined to always push, and he was intent on keeping it like that.

Carelessness was meant for solitude, but solitude should never be mistaken for privacy. He wasn’t sure anywhere was ever truly private, not anymore. Not when everyone’s nerves were beyond the edge, not when everyone seemed to bare their teeth at any mer they crossed, their own or not.

The ocean covered most of the planet, and yet it seemed to be getting smaller, even as the levels rose. It was only a matter of time before the humans regained themselves and started plunging back into the sea, and soon the merfolk would once again be forced to the deepest confines of the ocean.

Another home in the middle of the sea, away from any land and any substantial source of food, once again forced to survive off of measly huntings and unsuccessful gatherings.

Ro shuddered. He didn’t want to go back to that.

“Ro?”

He looked up as Chase’s gentle voice reached his ears, feeling his fingers slide across his arm. He used only two, and kept them to the lightest of touches—a show of concern, a more intimate sign than was comfortable but showed genuinity.

“I’m alright,” Ro clicked softly, offering him a wry smile.

Chase frowned at him with sad eyes that were only intensified by the water reflecting them. They were in a shallower part of the water here, where the light could easily reach them.

“I’m fine ,” Ro gurgled now, rolling his eyes and shoving the mer away. He continued ahead, leading them back to the colony’s west outpost. He felt Chase following him more closely now, only a tail length behind him. He flipped the back of his playfully, aiming for his head.

Chase snorted and pulled ahead a little, just to turn back and glare at him. Ro gave a smug smirk, tilting his head up in silent challenge. Chase slowed to then ram him before taking off. Ro instantly took after him, never one to lose to him of all people.

Chase stared up at the night sky through the sky hole in the grotto, his tail splashing mindlessly in the warm water below. It was summer, and the waters retained more of their heat at night than they usually did.

He quite liked the summer, because the sun was always out and he could always feel it on his back. Ro would sneer and say it was actually because he liked the way he glowed it in, which was slightly true but not the whole reason. Although he did absolutely tease him for thinking he glowed, to which he only responded with flustered sputtering and hitting Chase in the head with his tail.

He liked the summer because it just felt so inviting . It was warm and comforting, and anything that was warm and comforting made everyone feel welcome. People relaxed more in the summer—especially in the village, where the heat wasn’t enough to make people grouchy and it wasn’t cold enough to make them stingy.

Even Ro, the grouchiest and stingiest of them all. At least with him. Chase could admit he was often hurt by his closed off demeanor, but he knew it was only because of where he grew up. Merfolk weren’t known for their kindness in the deep.

During the summer though, he seemed to soften some. Either by the warmer temperatures or the influx of food, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t complaining either way.

Ro sat next to him, arm raised as he pointed out the few constellations they could spot, rambling with animation that was rare to see. His tail splashed along with Chase’s, still distanced but he didn’t miss the way it tilted just a little bit towards his. One thing he’d learned about Ro in their few years knowing each was that he never did anything without purpose—at least with his body—and everything he did had meaning. He liked to think he knew the meaning behind this.

“What’s that one?” Chase asked, pointing to a tiny cluster that just barely fit inside their little sky light.

Ro brightened and instantly listed its name off to him, talking about how it was founded and its origin.

Chase had heard this story, like all the others, dozens of times, but never tired of it. Whatever got Ro out of his shell was something worth repeating.

The small moonlight that fell through landed like an angelfish’s touch on Ro’s skin, illuminating the slight bronze. Chase looked down at the light reflecting off his brown tail, the edges touched with black and freckled with beige spots. His fins faded from a bronze like his skin to a brighter orange, also dusted with speckles. He had tiny scars here and there, from either accidents with jutting rocks or sparring matches, and they gave him a sort of rugged look Chase found embarrassingly appealing. He looked back up at his face, noticing the ways his black hair framed his small face, knowing the curls were as soft as they looked.

He had forgone his contact lenses for the night, now wearing the chunkier goggles he usually did when alone or with people he trusted. Chase used to tease him for it when he first brought them out, but instantly stopped once he realized he stopped doing it for a time. Eventually they came back, and he only made passing remarks about them when they bantered back and forth.

He truthfully had no idea what Ro was saying now, but he could hear the passion in his voice and he saw the blaze of intensity in his equally as fiery eyes.

“And that one?” Chase asked the moment he was finished, pointing to another.

Ro told him of that one before too, but seemed to have no trouble saying it again.

“That one?” Chase asked, looking at one Ro already told him that night.

He didn’t seem to notice though, and gladly took the excuse to explain it again.

“And this one. What’s this one called?”

Ro turned to look at him in puzzlement, not seeing his hand. He looked down to see where Chase’s eyes had landed, finally seeing the cluster of freckles along his side.

They were a random little patch that showed up nowhere else on his body, and made Ro endlessly self conscious. Chase loved them though, with a giddy excitement he would be too humiliated to ever say out loud. Except that once and Ro threw a training stick at him.

“That’s not a constellation, squid,” Ro deadpanned, his voice carrying softly through the air. His voice sounded just as angelic above water as it did below.

Chase scrunched his nose up at the name but decided to let it pass. “I don’t know, seems like one to me.”

“It’s not, because it’s on my body and not in the sky. It has no name and no story.” Ro scoffed and rolled his eyes, leaning back on his palms.

“We ought to fix that then, yeah?” Chase asked casually, using his finger to trace it. Ro tensed under his touch and shivered, eyes warily looking at him.

“I…” he started, then stopped, fighting with his words as they processed in his mind. He didn’t like to waste his words, and often took a long time to find the right thing to say. It used to make Chase impatient, and he’d push him for answers until he finally caved. He’d grown though, or he liked to think he did, and now waited for him to get his wits about him.

Sometimes.

“Just saying. Seems like a waste to not name such a pretty constellation,” Chase shrugged, still tracing the freckles as he tried to give them shape. “I’m thinking an eel, because it starts from here,” he placed a finger a little below the halfway point of Ro’s torso, “and goes all the way along to here.” His finger trailed up and stopped just below his armpit, where the last of the freckles flickered out.

He could feel Ro breathing less as he touched him, and eventually spared him enough to take his finger away, using the fin of his tail to splash some water on the other mer.

The water seemed to jolt him from his trance, and he settled on Chase with a sour gaze. “I hate you,” he hissed.

“You love me.” Chase gave him a toothy grin.

“ Hate ,” Ro lamented, lifting his tail over the water and slamming it down, splashing Chase all the way up to his chest.

Chase laughed and lowered himself onto his back, still staring at the freckles on his side. “I wanna name it Breece.”

Ro blinked at him. Soon though, too soon, his face twisted into a sneer. “ Breece ?”

“Yeah, ‘cause so many constellations are named after Greece. And it’s beautiful, like they all are, so you combine it. Beautiful and Greece. Breece,” Chase said confidently, feeling the name was pretty good.

Ro thought otherwise. He snorted in exasperation at Chase’s explanation. “The constellations were named in Greece, not after it. And that’s the worst name I’ve ever heard for a constellation. Most are named after people or important figures, not word combinations.”

“I think it’s pretty good,” Chase sniffed, turning his head away in offense. “But fine. Not Breece. I’m gonna call it Rosefish.”

“Why rosefish? That’s not a real thing,” Ro frowned at him, but his eyes had that look in them when he puzzled through something.

“Because it’s another mix,” Chase proudly ignored the mer’s groan, “between your name and a needlefish—the one with the long nose—your favorite one.”

Ro stopped his frowning, and Chase was glad to see his face settle. His eyes did that thing they did when he felt a strong emotion—something sweet and nice—and he had a look of wonder that was usually so far buried it genuinely startled Chase when he first saw it. He watched in glee as Ro turned away from him, his bronze skin earning a pink undertone.

“That’s a stupid name,” he muttered, but his tail dragged circles in the water near Chase’s, and he knew he was just being bashful.

“I like it,” Chase murmured, resting his cheek on his arm as he laid on his side, staring up at the mer before him. Ro finally looked back down at him, his face impossibly soft.

Their tails touched, just slightly, in their tiny little grotto under the stars.

The doll floated past Ro’s vision carrying a cloud of doom and melancholy. Chase would later tell him he was being absurd to ease the tension, but not even he would be able to hide his troubled gaze.

It was a sun-bleached white, with faded brown hair made of yarn and a tattered blue dress. Its eyes were two black dots, with a tiny line of black for a smiling mouth. Half of its body was missing, the fluff damp and sticking out of it.

Ro reached out and picked it up, looking down at it with a distant gaze as the bag in his hand slowly slipped free.

Someone tapped him just as he lost his grip on it, and he quickly picked it back up. He looked at the mer next to him, Manuel—who was frowning that signature frown of his—before putting the doll in the bag.

It was trash collection day.

Two days out of the week the colony would send out a group of merfolk to collect whatever human debris had drifted into their part of the ocean, putting them in bags before dumping them back on shore in a collected area.

No one liked just leaving the trash there, but they unfortunately had nowhere else to put it. Ro’s heart ached for the land dwelling creatures who had to share their homes with humans, knowing it was far worse on land than in the water. Hopefully they’d find reprieve one day, somehow.

However, soon the problems on land would be problems for them too.

Too many towns were getting swept away in the drastic increase of rising floods, the sea relentless in her claiming. The air above the surface was starting to become thicker too, more unbearable, the heat seeping into the water like a threat.

People could no longer be outside of their homes for too long, their tails starting to peel and molt, loose scales falling free.

The village was becoming restless, and soon the rest of the colony would too. Maybe even more than just theirs.

Fish were becoming unpredictable, and birds no longer had strong enough bodies to dive into the water and reemerge. No one really liked the taste of bird—their meat was too thick and chewy—but they started becoming more and more common on the market anyway.

Ro’s heart ached as he continued to collect the waste, noticing the numbers grew as time went on. He didn’t want to go back to the deep, but he knew with the rate things were going he might have to. He’d escaped it for a time, when he found the colony by the coral reefs, but true to their nature, humans took it from him. He had to retreat further back, with his parents, to this colony near an island off the coast of what he assumed to be one of the Americas. Which one he didn’t know, nor care—human territories was not his concern.

For now.

Already more sea vessels were beginning to churn the surface of the water, all going further inland as their homes were lost. At nights when it was particularly bad, he could hear the sounds of their bombs and their banging sticks, curling in tighter as Chase tried to cover him. His presence used to help, but sometimes Ro couldn’t help but feel like he was just making it worse.

“Alright everyone! We’ll wrap up once the herd passes the Channel Towers!” Manuel called out, his hands cupping around his mouth.

Ro turned his head back to look at him, catching a glint of his silver-blue tail as he drifted away. His bag seemed to just barely close, and Ro felt a sinking pit in his stomach at the way his matched. Everyone’s did, even the extra bags! And yet, the ground was still covered in trash. This was starting to become too much. How much longer could they keep up like this before the colony started moving?

What if even the Queen got involved?

He sighed and looked over as a horn was blown, watching as the school of fish herded in by a shepard passed the jutting rocks. He tied his bag up and began the return to the village with the rest of the cleaning crew, his arms aching from the weight of it. No one seemed to be in a particularly talking mood today.

It didn’t take long for them to reach the eastern gates, waiting patiently as the dumping crew came to take the bags to the site. Once someone relieved him of his bag, he rolled his shoulders and trailed inside the town, sighing once again.

He was feeling fairly hungry, and sunburnt from his hours out with no shade, and thought it would be good to head to his favorite place besides home. And a certain someone’s arms, but he’d never admit that to himself.

The tantalizing smell of frying fish packed with seasoning and wrapped in seaweed assaulted his nostrils the second he swam in, making his mouth water and his stomach growl. Rather loud. He got a sympathetic look from a mermaid in the back of the line, looking at him over her shoulder. Ro felt his face heat up as he gave her a sheepish smile, lifting his shoulders and ducking his head.

She went back to looking in front of her as the line moved on, thankfully very short at the moment. It only took him a few more minutes before he was at the front and ordering his food—the usual. He was very pleasantly surprised to find it was already made for him.

“I notice my customers,” the chef said, giving him a warming smile and passing the small basket of fish over.

“Thank you very much,” Ro clicked in return, nodding his head and going off to find a seat. He unwrapped the seaweed bindings and chewed on a piece as the fish was slowly revealed. He could hardly wait to let it cool before shoving the burning hot meat in his mouth. He ignored the sting and chewed in content, the seaweed being a small reliever.

The quiet chatter of other mer comforted him as he ate, hearing the smiles in their words and feeling a bit of weight lift off his chest. Yes, everyone was still restless and irritable and on their last nerve, but they could still find moments to just be . Times and places where a normal routine was powerful enough to brighten a whole day. Ro wasn’t sure where he’d be without at least some semblance of his regular schedule, and he was starting to worry how that anxiety would fare as it was constantly tested.

He tried to push away unpleasant thoughts so he could focus on only his food and the spices that flooded his tongue as he ate, but he couldn’t do it. Something was holding him back, and he already knew what.

It was just a matter of being too scared to.

“Ah, there he is! Just the mer I wanted to see!”

Ro groaned to himself around a bite of seaweed.

“Ro! Did you miss me?” Chase quickly swam up to him, stopping by his table and looking at the other with such intensity and affection Ro wanted to curl up into himself. It gave his stomach a funny flutter and made it squeeze without volunteering. “Ooh, what’s that?” He chirped without giving Ro the time to answer, hand already reaching for his food.

Ro quickly shot him down, swatting his hand out of the way and away from his food. Chase looked offended and huffed, flopping down in the seat across from him. “You’re so mean. All the times I’ve bought food for you…”

“That’s nice,” Ro clicked behind a rather big bite, thoroughly enjoying teasing him.

“Aw come on! It’s one bite!” Chase pouted with his bottom lip, blinking his big eyes at the other with his hands tucked under his chin. It was slightly irritating how it almost made him crack.

Ro was stronger than that though, and simply gave him a deadpan stare. Chase huffed again and leaned himself back into the thick, grass woven chair. “You cruel, cruel, mer!” He declared.

Ro huffed affectionately, slicing off a piece of the fish with a claw and wrapping it up in some seaweed. He passed the stuffed leaf over to Chase before going back to his own. The merman perked up and gave a pleased chirp, eyes sparkling. His tail just barely flicked Ro’s before snatching it up and proceeding to shove the whole thing in his mouth

“Watch it! You could choke like that!” Ro blanched, giving an alarmed whistle.

“Nuh-uh,” Chase gurgled through a mouthful.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘ nuh-uh ?!’” Ro could feel his temple throbbing.

“Nuh-uh,” he said again, shaking his head.

“You are a pup . I can’t stand you,” Ro grumbled, narrowing his eyes into a half-hearted glare.

Chase only snorted at him, raising his brow in amusement. He tried to look hurt but it only ended up making him start laughing, trying his best to hold it in. Ro felt his own chest start to ache the longer he pretended to be angry with him.

The two of them could see the humor in the other’s eyes, and it led them spiraling down a hole of clinging to the table or each other as they kept it in. Ro’s body hurt from how badly he needed to laugh but couldn’t.

Then Chase snorted and a torrent of bubbles startled him, causing him to open his mouth in a silent scream. Ro collapsed against the table with a full belly laugh, clinging to his sides in pain while Chase continued to scream-laugh above him.

Chase curled his tail around Ro’s as he read from his book, a small glowlight above his head. It was becoming dark outside, and the two of them had retreated to Ro’s small home.

Chase didn’t have anything against small homes, he just knew they had a lot more room at his home. Which was huge! They had all the space they could want! But for some reason Ro preferred small and humble over big and extravagant; it seemed to be the only thing the two of them couldn’t figure out. So they made a compromise to alternate houses, one week they’d stay at Ro’s, and one week they’d stay at Chase’s.

They couldn’t abandon either because they were family inheritances, and it made sure both were still taken care of.

He lay on his back across the bottom of the couch, while Ro sat upright on the end. He placed his hands along his stomach and hummed to himself, trying out the different pitches and tunes for when they next went hunting. Just pure stalking and spearing wasn’t working much anymore, so they started relying more on their calls to attract prey. Chase had the best voice out of everyone, if he did say so himself, so he was often the one that sang.

Ro said he had a nice voice once, and he’s never let that go. It was so rare for him to give genuine compliments without adding anything backhanded or sarcastic. Chase hated it sometimes, but he’d have to remind himself it’s where he grew up. They don’t value love in the deep.

“Ro,” he hummed, adding just the hint of a melody to his name.

The merman looked over at him, his eyes wide at the familiar sound. He was usually kinder when he was reading, projecting his love for the book onto whoever he was talking to at the time. These were the best times for the two of them to have genuine conversations.

“Do you ever get tired of not making this something more?” Chase clicked softly, eyes still glued to the ceiling.

“What do you mean?” Even with his eyes looking up, Chase could see the frown on his lips.

“Us. Are you tired of not making us more?”

“More, how? I thought this was the norm,” he said quietly, and Chase’s heart ached at the genuine confusion in his voice.

“No, there’s…I know merfolk don’t take relationships that seriously in the deep, but up here it’s usually more of a gradual process. There’s courting, like how we were the first few months,” Chase spoke as he sat up, tail still firmly holding onto the other’s, “and then there’s the official relationship. When you’re open about what you are.”

“Is that where we are now?” Ro peered up at him, long lashes and all.

“That’s the thing, I don’t know,” Chase shrugged, looking off to the side. He placed his hands behind him to lean against, the plush cushion under his fingers. It was one of the few uses they made of human materials. “I feel like we’re stuck somewhere in between.”

“How do we…” Ro paused, closing his book and staring down at his lap, fingers picking at the cover. He’d scowl at that once he realized. “How do we become un stuck?”

“Well, for one, I think you acting less appalled by me might help,” Chase gurgled, a hint of playfulness but also genuine annoyance in his tone.

Ro didn’t look up at him, still playing with the cover. “I…” he started, then stopped, then started again before ultimately stopping. This was Chase’s sign to be patient and wait for him to collect his words, but he felt a small flare of irritation in his chest. Why was this so hard for him to talk about? They’ve been working on this for almost a year now, why couldn’t he just say what he felt?

“Do you actually like me, or did you just agree to be with me out of pity?” Chase whistled harshly, much harsher than he’d intended. He actually hadn’t intended to say anything at all, but it was a thought that constantly swirled around his head.

Ro wouldn’t be the first one to take advantage of him.

“What?” Ro looked over at him incredulously, eyes filled with bewilderment. “Why would you think that? Of course I actually like you.”

“Then why do you never act like it?”

“I’m only messing with you, you do the same thing!”

They were both starting to get upset.

“Yeah, but at least I make more of an effort to have real moments with you! I compliment you way more than you do me, I constantly drop activities I want to do for you, I’ve practically reworked my entire self to please you !” Chase gurgled louder than was really necessary, his fingers digging into the cushion.

“Well I never asked you to do that,” Ro sneered, his clicks becoming more flat and blunt. “If you thought I wasn’t doing enough, why didn’t you just say something?”

“I’ve tried ! But you constantly shut me out and don’t listen to half the shit I say!”

“That’s because half the shit you say is stupid!”

“ See! That! That right there. That’s what I’m talking about. You act as if you’re disgusted to even be near me, that I’m just too fucking stupid for you,” he bit, his click taking on a growl.

Whatever love Ro had been carrying in him quickly vanished. “That’s because sometimes you do act stupid, like right now. Right now you’re acting really fucking stupid.”

“Because I’m being honest about how I feel? Because instead of shutting down and pushing my emotions away I actually talk about them? Because I want to be sure you’re actually putting as much effort into this relationship as I am? By the Serpent, if that’s stupid to you I’m afraid to see what smart is,” Chase flicked away from him, tail instantly pushing him back and making distance. “I’ve tried to be patient with you, Ro, but you’re just so distant . You’re not nearly as emotionally available as you should be! I can’t take that right now.”

The fight in the other mer seemed to evaporate instantly at those words. His face seemed dumbfounded and slightly numb. “What do you mean ‘you can’t take that?’”

That’s also something Chase hated about him, how he so skillfully dissected words, how he could hear their true meaning even if the original speaker couldn’t.

Chase frowned at him as he hovered a tail length away from the couch, tail flicking just enough to keep him from sinking to the floor. Ro’s book had been left abandoned in his lap, a whole corner of its cover now frayed and picked. He’d probably cry at it once he realized.

He sucked in his breath and forced himself to be strong as he spoke.

“I think it’s time we take a break.”

Break.

Break.

Ro often loved the “break”, but now it had a new meaning he’d never known before. He thought he was well educated in all the meanings of basic, everyday words, but apparently he was wrong.

Now “break” had another definition, and it was one that made him like the word less.

Why was it even a thing? A break ? Why was there an in between? There either was or wasn’t , it made no sense that there had to be a middle ground.

Are we still together?

Yes.

Then why are you staying away?

Because we’re on break.

When does it end?

When I think you’ve changed.

Changed.

Changed, as if he had something wrong with him. Did he?

He mulled over the question as he watched the sea-cow before him, lazily chewing at some wilting grass. No grass in the area seemed full anymore, only the measly remains of bigger patches were left.

The sea-cow seemed wholly unaware and unfazed by the inner turmoil of the hunter just a few lengths away, death gripping his spear while his eyes bore holes into its side. If he kept this up the creature would feel something wrong, and flee without even checking what it was. The animals were fidgety things, that startled at fish and could jet for miles without end.

Do you still love me?

His grip on the spear tightened, even when he didn’t think it could anymore. He raised it slightly above his head—his accuracy had always been deadly precise.

Yes.

He felt the slow rush of bubbles around his gills, his body dispensing itself of oxygen in a deep exhale.

Do you really?

He hurled the spear overhead, using more force than was necessary to propel it through the water. He watched as its body twirled through thick liquid, cutting through it with its sharp blade. It shouldn’t be physically possible, but someone along the line of the generations of merfolk found a way to enchant just the right runes to make it work.

I don’t know.

The spear struck the midpoint of the sea-cow’s tail, crudely piercing the flesh with a sickening sound. He’d never felt sick at the sound before.

The cow wailed harshly, its nerves no doubt on fire as its most sensitive bundle of nerves was assaulted. Ro hissed sharply under his breath, then instantly regretted it as his noise gave his location away. The cow’s head briefly looked over to spot him before taking off, tail pushing down despite the new addition lodged inside it.

Normally, it wouldn’t be so bad if he’d hit the tail and not the chest, it could still be enough to paralyze it. Of course that would only work if he actually hit the muscle that paralyzed them. Instead, he’d hit a useless flexor that still allowed the creature to swim away, if not painfully.

He watched in raged dismay as it disappeared into the sea, knowing it would be futile to chase after it. It would out swim him for far too long, regardless of whatever was inside it.

He huffed and ignored the swirl of bubbles now surrounding his head, water pushing out of his system. He turned and swam back to the main group, sulking the whole way. He picked up the bundle of rope he’d used to tie his other catches together—a flimsy eel, a shrunken squid, and some weird cat-cow abomination born from humans fucking around—and dragged it behind him, its weight slowing him more than it should.

He’d been the most trusted to go after the sea-cow because he had the best aim, that thing was his chance to provide for his village in its time of need. And he’d fucked it up. Because of him .

He never would have missed if Chase hadn’t put them on this stupid break and got in his head. He was always in his head anyway, but this time Ro seriously wished he wasn’t.

His heart sank to his gut as he passed over the hill his hunting group was behind, watching their hopeful faces fall the second they saw his. He looked down at the ground to avoid their eyes, carrying his lame catch along. A collective sigh seemed to echo out amongst the mers, and that only made him feel worse.

He wouldn’t have missed.

“Alright everyone, it’s time to head back. Hopefully the fisheries had better luck than us,” Manuel called out, his own small catch blaring in their faces. Chase used to be the head of their group, but he’d since left after telling Ro about their “break.”

Break .

Now he led the second group and Manuel led his old one. Manuel was not that great of a hunter either, but he was decent enough.

With a heavy cloud hanging above their heads, the hunting group returned home. This haul would not be enough. Food was already becoming scarce, and it was rationed off based on need. Hunters ate first of course, then gatherers, pups, mothers, fishers, and so on. More groups were being sent out to collect, even some adolescents, but it was never enough anymore.

They weren’t only competing with other colonies and factions now. Now, they were competing with humans too. They always had, but not like this. Less land meant less land animals , less plants , and humans couldn’t rely on it anymore. Now they had to fully turn to the sea, taking as many fish as they could.

Some mer have had to turn to desperate means, sabotaging human fishing vessels and cutting their nets, stealing the fish they had probably altered. It was risky, stealing from humans. You were always told not to, because if you did it too much or too often, they would get suspicious. If they got suspicious they would investigate, and there weren’t enough defenses anymore to keep the merfolk's existence secret. If the humans wanted to look, they’d find them.

Ro’s thoughts trailed away as he picked up on conversation behind him, clicks and whistles too quiet for anyone else but him to hear.

“Do you really think we’ll last much longer?” A young voice, one of the new adolescents made to join.

“Would you stop being such a pessimist, of course we will.” Another young voice, the other adolescent.

“But the food…it’s—”

“Just tough to find right now,” the second interrupted. Ro had yet to memorize their names, or identify them by voice—neither spoke much, unless it was short, quick responses. “But we’ve had rough seasons before. We’ll be fine.”

“This feels different though,” the first defended. The second groaned. “I’m serious! It’s never been this hot before, I can’t even go inside to escape the heat anymore.”

That was true. The heat was starting to become unbearable, and it burned to be near the surface for too long. Ro could no longer float along the top for more than a few seconds before his skin started to hurt. He wasn’t sure what was going on with the sun lately, but it was being far too cruel.

“It’s just a bad season. We’ll be fine, watch. I’m sure in a few weeks everything will be back to normal,” the second reassured, sounding so sure of themself.

It did not get better, and the fishers did not have better luck.

It got hotter, mers got hungrier—angrier—food got scarcer. No one could go outside for long, not unless they were a food collecting group, and even those numbers started to dwindle. Pups started getting sick, and they ran out of the medicinal ingredients to cure them. Tails were starting to molt and they no longer had the materials to fix them. Skin was burnt, scales were lost, and on top of that mers started going missing.

Where they went, no one knew, but everyone had suspicions. They had gotten too bold, and humans never did know how to leave something alone.

It was miserable, to every possible degree. Some started contemplating returning to the deep, where the waters were also warmer but much cooler than here. Prey was starting to retreat there as well, sightings of sea-cow migrating further down.

Ro didn’t want to return, he couldn’t . He’d tried so hard to escape and it was not to just be dragged back. They couldn’t leave , this was their home.

Why couldn’t they fix it?

Chase looked out his doorway to see a very sunburnt, and sad, mer. His fiery eyes were turned downcast and his hair seemed almost bleached. His once beautiful tail had been warped and mottled, and it no longer moved with its same grace.

His heart ached and he quickly picked Ro up, swimming him inside without a word.

He set him down in a chair in one of his many sitting rooms, instantly rearranging pillows to prop behind his back.

“You don’t have to do all—” he began to fuss, but one pointed look from Chase shut him up. He glared down at the ground in silence and let the bigger mer continue to fuss over him. Once he was satisfied with his comfort, Chase sat down next to him, tail going to Ro’s by habit.

He resisted the urge to gasp, or shudder, at the feeling. His tail didn’t feel right, almost like it wasn’t his at all, it was too bumpy, and scratchy, and didn’t fit like it used to. His time in the sun had taken its toll.

Even if he didn’t have a full body reaction, his face must have betrayed him because soon Ro began to pull away, his arms wrapped self-consciously around his torso. “I know, it’s gross. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Newbie. I don’t mind,” Chase tried to joke, his whistles a little too high.

Ro glared at him halfheartedly, but seemed to soften—if just a little. “You don’t have to lie. It disturbs me too.”

Chase frowned at that, looking back down at it. He reached his hand out and ran it down the side scales, feeling the mess of texture across it. It was rough in some areas and smooth in others, some seemed pushed off the skin while others were too tight, some were chipped and some were warped. Ro startled at his touch and shivered, so Chase immediately pulled his hand back.

“Sorry, I just wanted…” he trailed off, feeling the lame excuse die out on his tongue. “It’s worrying,” he clicked almost silently. He knew it was a very intimate gesture, one much more than Ro was typically comfortable with. Which was a little odd considering they’d done much more before—nothing obscene mind you—but he’d always been a little averse to genuine affection.

Ro didn’t meet his eyes but nodded his head anyway. He didn't speak for a while, after that, so Chase figured it was best to just sit in silence, even though he hated it.

He leaned closer to Ro—pressing their shoulders together—and he thankfully didn’t pull away. In fact, he leaned closer himself, head resting on Chase’s shoulder.

Owen peeked through the doorway at some point—most likely coming to see if Chase needed anything—but one look at them on the couch and he decided to leave. Chase would have to be sure to thank him later.

“Are we still on break?”

Chase felt startled at his question, having thought he’d fallen asleep. He did that quite a lot after rough weeks, leaning against him and clocking out.

His chest squeezed painfully.

“No.”

Ro picked at his flaking scales, watching them fall aimlessly to the ground. He and Chase had spent the last sun-mark plucking off all the ones that had died and were now useless, so that new ones could grow in to take their place.

It was a slow and sometimes painful process that required multitudes of patience and delicate care.

Chase’s fin would brush out against his every now and then, a distant comfort for the unlikely feeling. Ro would brush his fin back and they’d resume the process.

It wasn’t until well into midday, when the sun was the hottest it could ever be and even staying inside was not enough to escape it, that they finally finished. Ro looked down at his mutilated tail and resisted the urge to sob, watching as what once gave him identity was shed onto his home floor. What kind of mer was he if he did not have scales?

“It’s alright,” Chase clicked softly, uncertain hands resting on Ro’s shoulders. “They’ll grow back. And don’t worry, you’re not the only one who had to shed.”

He wasn’t wrong, there were a great number of merfolk who were in their homes no doubt doing the same thing he was. For the next few weeks there’d be scaleless mers swimming through the village, wincing at every flex of muscle. Their scales gave them protection, and without them they were left defenseless. Their tails were simply big parts of exposed muscle, with a thin layer of skin overtop to keep everything compact. Only the bottoms remained protected as they once were, a thicker shell lining where their stomachs met their tails.

“It’s ugly,” Ro huffed, bubbles pushing up and around his mouth.

“It’s not… pretty ,” Chase whistled long, eyes staring down at the tail with an odd look. “But it’s not ugly either.”

“I look like a seal,” Ro gurgled, his frown turning into a pout.

Chase snorted, before catching himself and trying to cover his mouth. Ro whined and turned away from him, but he tried to pull him back. “No, no! I’m sorry, it’s just—” he looked away to let out another bout of giggles.

“I hate you,” Ro grumbled, pulling his naked tale away.

“I’m sorry! But it’s—you said—A seal?”

Ro stared at him and he snorted again, holding his stomach as he rolled off the couch, tail a swirl of fins and yellow.

Ro huffed and pushed away from him, gingerly swimming to the hallway.

“Wait! Wait , don’t go!” Chase wailed behind him, his voice still laughing. He easily caught up to Ro, who was struggling to move more than a few inches at a time. He was one of the few lucky ones that did not have to shed.

His tail wasn’t perfect, not anymore, but it hadn’t suffered nearly half the damage Ro’s had. He mainly stayed in the shadows nowadays, where he simply sang for prey so that hunters like Ro could spear them and bring them in. He didn’t show it on his face or through his actions, but Ro knew Chase felt some guilt that he didn’t have to sacrifice such a large part of himself like everyone else.

It made him “othered” in some way, something Ro never thought possible for him. He was beautiful, unnaturally so, and that made him othered somewhat, but this was different. At least before everyone was still whole, so his beauty could be something that was admired.

Now it was envied and even despised. How come he got to be whole while they had to be broken?

Ro’s thoughts must have shown on his face because Chase frowned up at him, swimming with his back parallel to the ground so he could swim underneath.

“Are you alright? Does it hurt?” He asked, something sounding genuine in his whistle.

Ro looked down at him, his movements awkward and jerky compared to his seamless grace. “No, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He realized his short answers weren’t really aiding his case much, but he didn’t know what else to say. He had nothing else to say.

They found their way outside and swam beneath the canopy put up between houses, the village doing anything they could to ease everyone’s suffering.

“It’s getting really warm around here, isn’t it?” Chase said pointlessly, eager for conversation.

Ro glanced down at him with a pointed look, both of them knowing it was a rather stupid thing to say. They had literally just pulled all of his scales off because of the heat.

Ro sighed out of his gills and answered though. “Yes, it is.”

“Summer’s almost over. It should die down after this, yeah?”

“It should.” Ro didn’t think it would though. It was too late in the summer to think this heat would go away, because it was only getting worse. It was never this bad before.

“Maybe we’ll finally be able to visit the grotto again,” Chase chirped hopefully, an easy grin on his face.

“Maybe.”

They haven't been able to visit any of their favorite spots lately. The last time they visited they had to leave within seconds, the heat almost scorching in the closed space. The reefs were bleached pure white and too dead to offer any reprieve with their shadows. The rock formations they swam around now burned to the touch and heated the water around them to unbearable degrees.

“I wonder if there are still some sea-cows around,” Chase pondered aloud, humming with his clicks.

“There aren’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I hunt them everyday, Chase. I think I would know,” Ro bit out, his words hissing more than he would have liked.

“ Right… ” he gurgled almost silently, blue eyes looking elsewhere.

Ro sighed, feeling exhausted. “Sorry. That was harsh. There just…things aren’t going to be the same anymore, Chase. Not ever again—”

“We don’t know that for sure, things have been hard in the past but they’ve always turned around for us,” the golden mer interrupted, sounding too optimistic in their current surroundings.

“Look around, Chase!” Ro barked, his irritation getting the best of him. “Does this look repairable to you?”

They both stopped, Chase sliding up to face Ro upright. They each took turns looking side to side, sad eyes peering upon their home. It was cracking, slowly falling apart at the seams. Everything was paler, their color stolen by the sun, and homes looked unmanaged as no one dared to go outside. Gardens were dead and burnt husks outside of doors and windows—food that could have been long since lost.

“We can…we can fix it,” Chase said, but he sounded unsure. “It’s bad right now but…this can’t last forever. Right?” He turned to him with a wilting smile, blue eyes glittering with sadness.

Ro felt his heart being yanked, torn between needing to accept reality and comforting his special mer.

“I don’t know,” he said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. He had a pretty good idea as to how this would go, but ultimately he didn’t know. He figured they’d all find out soon enough though.

They were silent for a while, sitting on the floor in an intersection. If things had been normal, this path would be busy with movement, mers going to and fro as they bought wares or went to their destinations. Now it was barren but all of a few that hugged the very edges, closest to the coolness of homes and shade.

Chase reached a hand out and tentatively placed it on top of Ro’s, fingers curling around it. He looked up to meet his eyes again, greeted with an ever smiling face. A beautiful, annoying , familiar face.

“Wanna go watch the herd come in?” Chase asked in hushed clicks, once again sounding hopeful.

Ro felt himself force a smile, nodding his head slowly before speaking. “Yeah. I do.”

Chase left Ro where he was sleeping in bed—which was devoid of all fabrics and bedding because it was too hot—and floated through the balcony doorway. The instant he reached outside he was met with sweltering heat, his skin already clammy and needy for cold.

The faction had distributed stones with cooling runes to different households across the colonies, trying to aid its people in these trying times. The stones worked well enough at first, but no one was stupid enough to believe they would for much longer.

Not even Chase.

He wasn’t blind, or an idiot, despite what some mers must think. He may be unrealistically optimistic, but if no one else was going to be he had to take that place.

Merfolk didn’t perform well when they held no hope, they succumbed to the pressure and let the current drag them away. He couldn’t let that happen, not here. Not to these mers he’d spent his whole life with. Not with the mer he wanted to spend his whole life with.

These were not just pitiful wishes made by a merman lacking a few brain cells, these were made by one who just wanted to live his life again. Just like everyone else.

He exhaled through his gills and brought his hands to his face, rubbing his fingers over his eyes. He wanted to cry, and scream, and laugh, and whine, and all of these things at once.

Everything was falling apart . Nothing was as it should be.

It was supposed to be fall by now, the temperatures lowering and more mers bringing out their heating shawls. He would go with Ro to the grotto and listen to him talk about the new constellations they could see. He’d laugh and go out dancing with his hunting group, twirling under festival lights. He would help the farmers with their harvest, carrying heavy baskets full of mouthwatering fruit. He would…

He planned to finally ask Ro to be his intended. On their anniversary date. He’d even taken his favorite stone and carved into it a needlefish, made with love and careful precision by his own hands.

He didn’t think he’d get that chance, anymore. That broke him.

Chase couldn’t hold his cries in after that, and his body shook with his silent sobs. He curled over the hot railing, ignoring the sting as it burned his skin. No heat could compare to the agony of never giving his heart to the mer he loved.

That he so painfully loved.

Ro’s shoulders burned—both from exhaustion and the temperature—as he dragged in a giant net of fish. They had been reckless.

A human fishing vessel sailed just a few lengths from their village, nets bulging with a catch so significant everyone’s attention was immediately stolen. How had they caught so many ? That many fish could feed the whole village, with enough to ration off tomorrow.

They couldn’t ignore it, not possibly. Besides, the humans were in their territory, they were well within their rights.

It was dangerous, and risky, with no regard for anyone’s safety, but hunger made everyone desperate. Ro’s hunting group and two others went up to the fisher, staying clear of the blades and taking care to stay in its shadows. Two mers went up to the side of the vessel and yanked on its anchor, dropping it to disrupt the weight. It hooked on a crumbling rock formation, so they didn’t have much time.

Ro instantly helped in cutting the net free from its rope with his claws, three others frantically cutting with him. The humans were alerted by now, and he heard them shouting above the water.

The sun was too intense near the surface, too searing. Ro could feel his skin peeling the longer he stayed but they could not lose this.

He startled as a metal spear was thrown into the water, just narrowly missing his tail. He looked up and squinted at the brightness, but could make out the shape of humans with hands raised above the heads, more metal spears in their clutches. He cut faster.

They had to move around as they cut, trying to be careful not to get caught. Finally, they got it free, the rope snapping loudly and the net lurching deeper underwater. The mers holding on were dragged down with it, trying to balance their weight to begin swimming away.

The vessel jerked with it and the anchor broke through the rock hold, the fisher trudging forward again.

They thought they had gotten away; had escaped with a haul so big they couldn’t help the smiles that came to their faces.

Not everyone would get to enjoy it though. A few last spears breached the water, and soon two merfolk found themselves with one each in their chests. These spears had ropes attached to the ends of them, and as soon as they made contact they were pulled back.

Ro watched in horror as his fellow hunters were dragged away, wails piercing through the water the further they got.

They had to go back though, they couldn’t save them.

So, when they made it back to the village, no one returned the smiles they were given; no one said thank you at the congratulations; no one celebrated or cheered at the good fortune; no one even took a fish home. They just went.

Losing a hunter was a heavy grief, especially when they were one in your group. Ro lost one of his, as another group lost one of theirs. They were both so young.

He distanced himself from the cheerful town center for a while, staying in a corner under the canopy. He rested on the back of his tail—some of the scales finally growing back in, so it no longer hurt as much, and let it curl around him. He rested his hands in his lap as he stared at his fingers. His palms were sunburnt and rubbed raw from the rope; his claws felt sensitive and hurt if he touched them too much; his fingers were cramped and ached when he clenched them.

His torso hurt the most, with most of the skin now dry and cracked, the sun having nearly pulverized him into dust. He shouldn’t have gotten that close to the surface, not if he valued his life. Not if he valued their lives.

He carried the weight of their deaths heaviest of all, because he’d made the call to go after them. He suggested the idea. He convinced them to go. He killed them.

His heart panged in his chest, starting from a dull thud and compounding into a searing pain. He killed them .

He doubled over and held onto his sides, fingers digging into the hardened skin. It hurt , by the Serpent it was agonizing. His body was on fire but he didn’t know what else to hold onto. He couldn’t feel his chest besides the pain every time he breathed in, his gills stuttering with each breath. He felt himself shaking, whether it was from the pain or his sobs he didn’t know, all he knew was that it hurt.

He wanted this all to stop. Why couldn’t it just fucking stop? They wouldn’t have died if it weren’t for him. They would still be with their families. They would be able to enjoy the celebration just like everyone else.

Instead, now their families had to squash their smiles and brief elation to cope with the reality of their loss. Two mermen would not be coming home, and it was all his fault .

“Ro?”

Ro gasped and looked up, staring up with watery eyes as a golden tail came into his vision.

Chase stared down at him in worry, his face fallen and brows furrowed as he tried to figure out what was wrong. Ro sobbed and launched himself at him, wrapping his arms around him. He cried into his shoulder, ignoring the pain of Chase holding him back just as fiercely.

“Everything is falling apart, Chase! We’re not surviving this,” he wailed into his skin, which was also starting to flake and peel. If he needed any other sign of their inevitable doom, that was it.

Chase only shushed him, nuzzling his face against his grey hair. It wasn’t grey before, but like everything else the sun stole his color too.

Ro expected him to say he was wrong, that things would look up for them yet, that they could fix this. By the Serpent, he wanted him to say it, to say anything that might make this any less of a nightmare.

Instead, Chase said, “I know.”

“Is everything to your liking, sir?” The decorator asked him, swimming up to him shortly after the last lantern was placed.

Chase looked around the small, underwater grotto, decorated in grey shells and blue lanterns. Small fish memorabilia was strung along the walls, as well as those funny little crustaceans found in the deep Chase didn’t know the name of.

He’d spent the past few sun-marks putting everything together along with the decorating crew, perfecting every little detail and changing anything that didn’t fit right. They’d filled the small cave with makeshift cooling stones so it’d be a little more bearable to work in, but no one in the village was particularly strong with magic. Not that they needed to be, it was only a temporary thing.

“Yes, it’s wonderful. Thank you for your help,” Chase turned to the other mer, placing the back of his hand on the other’s. It was a small sign of gratitude often given to acquaintances.

“I’m glad we could assist. We should also be thanking you for this, not much need for decorators these days,” he replied sadly, eyes scanning over the scene.

“All the more reason to have this,” Chase beamed, excitement pumping through his veins like a poison.

The two of them were silent after that, watching as the rest of the crew took a stone with them as they left, needing the cold to face the heat. Once everyone was gone, the main decorator grabbed a stone himself, turning to leave.

Suddenly though, he turned back to Chase and said, “I feel sorry for you.”

Chase’s smile fell, and he turned to the older mer in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He swam back over to him, gently placing a stone in his hands as well. Chase looked down to take the gift, and caught sight of his withered red tail. He was sure it was beautiful in its prime.

“I’m sorry that you two were born now, instead of the past. When something like this could have been better celebrated. When you could have spent your time together,” the old mer clicked wistfully, eyes heavy with years of experience.

Chase returned his smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. “No, I think this was the right time. It’s like you said, people don’t have a reason to celebrate anymore, this is good for more than just us. Besides,” he trailed off, eyes landing on the back of the cave, where a certain obsidian stone sat in its particular carving. “For this mer, any time is the right time. Even if it is the end of the world, I intend to spend it with him.”

He looked back to the other merman, who was still smiling at the fondness in his voice. His face looked proud—admiring even.

“You are a strong one,” he whistled, before taking his leave.

Chase watched him swim away, now the only one left in the grotto. His stone did little to cool him with all the others missing, but it would last him at least a couple more minutes. For one last time, at least until the surprise was ready, he looked over the cave.

You are a strong one.

Yes, he thought, yes I am.

Ro watched another sea vessel cut through the surface, its motor loud and powerful against the waves. In the past two weeks, the humans had started to come out and collect the sea water in large tubs, before carrying them back on their noisy vessels.

One of the elders said humans only drank freshwater, but because it was so hot and no clouds formed, they had no way to get it. So they took sea water and drank it instead.

“How do they not die from it?” Ro asked, turning to the elder nearest him. He was helping her untangle her fishing net, the result of getting mixed up with an eel.

“They change it,” she clicked simply, eyes covered in film yet focused on the net. Ro wasn’t entirely sure how she knew what she was doing, but he certainly wasn’t going to question her.

“How?” He pressed, curiosity peaked.

The mermaid gurgled at his question, shoulders rising and falling with laughter. “Curious thing,” she teased. “Young ones are always so full of ‘whys’ and ‘hows.’”

“Weren’t you, at some point?”

“I was,” she said dreamily, lifting her milky eyes and looking off in the distance. She seemed to catch herself rather quickly, however, and her fingers began working on the net again. “But of course my youth has long since passed. I met a human once, a young man not much older than you. He told me all about humans, and the special machines they have.”

“Machines?” Ro looked up at her, brows scrunched in confusion. He’d never heard the strange word before.

“Yes,” she smiled, “inventions made of metals and rock. They burn coals and fossils to run them. Their boats are made of metals and plastics.”

“Boats?”

“The fishing ones.”

“I didn’t know they were called that,” Ro clicked, sounding surprised. He hadn’t even considered the humans might call them something different—which would make sense since they did make them.

“There are many things you don’t know the name of,” she hummed softly, her words kind despite the bite they could carry. “And I don’t blame you, there isn’t much reason for you to.”

“Can you tell me the names of other things?” He asked her hopefully, his fingers slowing at the childish question.

She laughed again, bubbles streaming out of her gills. “Yes, yes, I can.”

For the next few sun marks, up until midday, Ro went around to the different houses of elders to help them with their tasks, needing something to busy his hands. He wasn’t able to go out hunting anymore, the healers saying his body was too badly damaged and needed time to stabilize. He’d tried to argue, but they shut him down and told him to stay inside the town, where he could carry around a cooling stone to keep his body at a somewhat temperature degree. Or as reasonable as they could get nowadays.

The planet was too hot. The elders speculated it was only a matter of time before everything died from the heat. Fish were already turning up dead, darkened and crusted from burning. Mers were too.

Many had retreated back to the deep, but some remained stubborn, like his village. This was their home, they would not abandon it for the sun. They would not let the humans win, because they had brought this curse upon the world.

Even though Ro was supposed to be at home, not moving too much and trying to stay cool, he would also remain stubborn. He needed something to do with himself, he couldn’t be useless. A burden. He didn’t want to be dead weight. Even if he was hurt, his body still worked, and he’d use it for everything it was worth. If the world was going to die, he wouldn’t die without a fight.

After the last of the elder mers had been helped, and everyone else refused to let him assist them in some way, Ro finally bowed his head and returned home. Perhaps there was something there he could fix.

He exhaled heavily, bubbles rushing around his gills, before pushing open the grass door to his home, the pieces cracking to his touch. They too were drying out. He turned the first corner in the hallway to his library, and was surprised to see Chase lounging on a seat.

The golden mer looked up as Ro entered and beamed, his smile cutting through the room like the sun—but a much better version. Ro felt a flutter in his chest and returned the gesture, slowly swimming towards him.

“I thought you were out hunting?” He whistled an inquiry, settling on the floor in front of the chair. He grumbled as Chase lifted him by his underarms and placed him in the chair instead, taking Ro’s place on the floor.

“I was, but we were told to come back. It was too hot and mers were already passing out,” he hummed, trying to sound calm but Ro could hear the unmistakable clicks of distress. He ran a comforting hand through his golden hair, feeling the once plush strands fall back loosely from his fingers. It had dried so much, leaving it feeling rough and patchy. “Did you have fun helping the elders?” Chase looked up at him.

“Yeah, but I think they got tired of all my questions,” Ro clicked with some humor, but it sounded flat on his tongue.

Chase smiled regardless, blue eyes twinkling as they looked at him.

“Ugh, stop staring at me like that,” Ro huffed, placing his hand on his face instead and pushing him away.

The bigger mer chuckled, pulling his hand away and holding it in both of his. “I have a surprise for you.”

Ro blinked at him, seeing he was serious. “What is it?”

“Can’t tell you, it’s a surprise,” he whistled, smiling that infuriating smile.

Ro huffed and rolled his eyes, pulling his hand back. “That’s just ridiculous.”

He shivered as Chase ran a thumb across his wrist, two times with a tap after each. A plea, one you gave to your lover and no one else, because if you did it’d be sacrilege. It was a most dire sign to make anyone.

He stared into his blue eyes, seeing his own reflected back. No other words were shared between the two, but none were needed. That spoke louder than any words could.

Finally, Ro asked, “When?”

Chase replied with, “Tonight.”

Chase was terrified. He wasn’t sure why, it wasn’t like there was any reason to be.

His heart thundered.

Who was he kidding? Of course there was!

He swam back and forth in front of the grotto, biting at his thumb. It was a nasty habit he was trying to break, but great amounts of stress seemed to bring all his bad habits back. 

What if he’d forgotten something? What if something had been messed up in his time away? What if the cave just sunk into the earth on the spot?

What if he got Ro’s favorite rock wrong? Or color? Or fish ? By the Serpent what if he’d forgotten his favorite fish! You didn’t forget your intended’s favorite fish! That was horrible mate material.

He placed his hands on either side of his face and dragged them down, groaning harshly with a rush of bubbles that swirled around him. This was a nightmare! How did other mers do this?

Well he knew how, he spent the last two months going around asking couples how they proposed. Each one gave him a sympathetic look and words of reassurance, along with some things they did beforehand to ensure it was even time to start planning it. He’d almost gotten caught once or twice in the planning phase—Ro being too intuitive for his own good.

Did he grab the right beads? Did he need the beads? Were those for the proposal or the ceremony? Oh Serpent, what if he’d grabbed the ceremony beads by accident! That would be a horrible sign, Ro would get the completely wrong idea!

Or would he? Didn’t mers from the deep usually just jump straight to the ceremony? Chase wondered if that’s how Ro was made.

Why was he thinking that right now? That had nothing to do with whether or not he grabbed the right beads.

He very strongly considered going inside the grotto and changing everything before Ro arrived.

He turned around to do just that but got startled and shrieked as a mer appeared before him. He flailed back wildly before regaining himself, seeing it was only Ro.

The brown merman blinked at him in surprise, reeling back a tail length himself.

“Oh! Ro! Just the mer I wanted to see!” Chase laughed nervously, fidgeting with his hands in front of him.

Ro nodded slowly. “Right, I figured. Considering you asked me here and all…”

“That I did! Glad you listened,” Chase clicked a little too fast, his nerves getting the best of him.

“Are you okay?…” Ro whistled softly, brows furrowing. Chase didn’t think he realized how seriously adorable he was sometimes. 

“Yes! Fine! Uh, come on,” Chase chirped and simply grabbed Ro’s forearm, leading him to the entrance of the cave. He swam further down into the water, the temperature getting lower the closer they got.

“Woah, why is it getting colder?” Ro whistled in alarm, starting to pull back.

Chase looked over his shoulder with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I did it.”

“Cooling stones?” Ro guessed.

“You’re too smart sometimes,” Chase teased, flicking the fin of his tail over the other mer’s shoulder. It looked painful, a large patch of it red and rubbed raw, with its surrounding parts being too dark and cracked.

“I need to be for the both of us,” Ro quipped back, pretending to nip at the offending fin.

Chase slid his fingers from his forearm to his hand, clasping theirs together. Ro softened in his touch and continued along, swimming closer now. They reached the grotto entrance and Chase stopped them, turning to face him.

“Okay, before we go in just…listen,” he started, skin jumping in fear.

“Alright…” Ro drawled, his whistle low and serious.

“I originally wanted to do this big, huge party, that would be loud and full of mers and we’d all swim and laugh and dance, but I now know you hate that. So, it’s small, and quiet, and there’s no one else but us. Just us, and this cave, and everything else inside, but no other mers,” Chase spoke quickly, maybe too fast, but he needed to get it off his chest as fast as possible. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but it’d been eating away at him ever since Ro said he hated big parties, especially since Chase had already been three weeks into the planning process. This was all very last minute.

“Where are you going with this?” Ro asked quietly, his clicks barely audible. His eyes were wide now, very wide, and had a look that was close to fear. Oh Serpent, Chase hoped it wasn’t fear.

Chase didn’t respond with words, and instead just led him inside.

The cooling stones had certainly done their job, the inside of the cave a drastic difference from the outside. It was almost too cold, but it was desperately needed given the boil of the water outside. Ro gasped as he entered, and Chase watched as he shuddered from the drop in temperature. His pupils then exploded as he looked around the cave, his mouth wide open.

It was filled with blue lanterns—Ro’s favorite color—that illuminated the grotto in a cool hue. Next to each lantern was a cluster of grey wentletraps and green limpets—Ro’s favorite shells—hung along the walls and scattered across the ground. Hand crafted needlefish and crustacean things—isapads? Isapods? Isopads?—were lined up along the walls, colorfully painted. There were small bundles of white anemone peaking through cracks, filling some of the empty spaces. Blue silks were draped throughout random points of the grotto as well, gently swaying in the water’s soft current.

Ro’s wonder-filled eyes finally landed on Chase, who had taken his moment of surprise to go grab his gift from the back. He held his hands behind his back as he sheepishly swam up to Ro, face burning from a shyness he wasn’t used to feeling.

“Chase, what…” Ro began but trailed off, his words failing him.

“I hope it’s not too much,” Chase clicked with a shrug. “Well, I do, but not to an overwhelming degree.”

Ro’s eyes got bubbly, and Chase knew he’d already found out what this was.

“Ro,” he began slowly, singing his name in that perfect way it could be pronounced. The mer before him just barely stuck to a whine. “It’s been a…rough few seasons for us. Things have not been the best for everyone, and I don’t know if it will actually get better, so there’s something I have to do before our time here is over.

“I know I’m not perfect, and we both have moments where we can’t stand each other, but I think there’s some deeper meaning in that besides we’re both just really annoying.” Chase brought his hands in front of him now, still keeping the stone hidden. “I’ve said it many times before, and you’ve groaned about many more, but I’ll say it again, just to be sure you know.”

Ro held his hands close to his chest, biting his bottom lip so as not to cry.

“Ro you are…the most amazing mer I’ve ever met. The most intelligent, and most skilled, and most gorgeous; and even if you don’t see it, I do. I do, Ro. I see every beautiful thing about you, from your love for reading, to your call for the hunt. From the way you always seem to make room for others in your heart, to the way that even amongst all those mers you always leave the biggest space for me.”

Chase began to slowly unravel his hands then, revealing the black stone to his intended, carved into the perfect shape of a needlefish. Ro couldn’t keep in a sob at the sight of it, hands trembling as he cupped the bottom of Chase’s with his own.

“Ro,” he clicked again. His heart melted as the mer met his eyes, the fire in his irises overshadowed by his blown pupil. “ My heart ,” he whispered, “will you accept me?”

Ro tried to make a coherent answer out of his bubbling, but could only settle on another sob and nodded his head feverishly. Chase turned his hands around to place the stone in Ro’s palm, the carving reflected on both sides. He pulled away gently to go retrieve the beads—orange and red balls made of clay, strung together by a thin rope. He went back to Ro immediately and draped the beads over his head, wrapping them over his shoulders and upper arms.

He wasn’t even trying to hide his sobs anymore, lovingly holding the gift in his hands. He looked up and Chase’s heart swooned at the sight, feeling himself start to cry.

“The world is ending, love,” he hummed, holding Ro’s head between his hands. “And I intend to be by your side when it does.”

“I intend to be by yours,” he chirped back, working through a hiccup.

Chase chuckled and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the other’s. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, his gills flaring around his neck. Ro copied the act, placing one hand on Chase’s chest.

“So may the sea claim us alive; my heart is forever yours.”