Chapter Text
cold hands, warm hearts
The soft lull of waves calls me in closer and closer. I taste the salt on my lips, the cold wind messes up my hair. My glasses are covered in droplets of the sea and I see the world in fractals. I take a step forward.
“Harvey, Earth to Harvey!”
My eyes jolt open as soon as I hear my name. The warmth suddenly surrounds my body and, as my eyes come into focus, I recognize the familiar wooden decoration of the Stardrop Saloon. At my table, waving a hand before my face, sits the farmer Parsnip, looking at me with furrowed eyebrows. I lick my lips quickly and taste no salt.
“Sweet Yoba, Harvey! You have to get more rest!” says Parsnip, strands of their dyed green hair hanging before their dark eyes. I grunt at their words, stretching to get the pain out of my lower back. “Ouch.”
“Parsnip is right,” states Shane, sounding tired himself, “I might not be a doctor but I prescribe you with some good night’s sleep.” I can’t help but shake my head at that, smiling with my head down. Did I really just fall asleep at the saloon? “I know, I know... it’s just that winter is here and so is the flu season. There isn’t even that much work right now but I know there will be so I’m preparing myself the best I can.” ‘The best I can’ meaning doing nothing but stressing out about doing nothing. I hear my head pounding and decide to finally call it a night. As I stand to leave, Parsnip grabs my hand.
“Seriously, take some time off. After all, you can’t cure the flu if you’re tired all the time.” I look into the two dark eyes through the wild green hair and see only warmth there. I glance at Shane whose concerned eyes stare at me. They truly want the best for me. But I’m afraid I can’t afford the best for myself. Not right now. “Thank you, both of you. Don’t forget to get the full eight hours of sleep, Shane. Parsnip, wear a scarf when you’re outside working on the farm. It protects you from the cold.” With both of their faces slightly relaxed now, they wish me goodnight and with that I’m up and on my way out. The saloon is full of people this Saturday night. Gus is working tirelessly to supply all the wanted beverages and snacks. Emily is chatting to Lewis and Marnie who are nestled into the corner of the saloon. Sam, Sebastian and Abigail are gathered around the arcade games, competing with fiery passion. Even Caroline is here with Jodi, the two of them getting tipsy off the sweet strawberry wine. Nothing and no one seems out of place. It’s like each of them are pieces of the puzzle, working together to create the lively core of the Pelican Town. The role of a doctor is to keep all the puzzle pieces healthy, able to do their own things. And that role requires an amount of work that doesn’t allow for a good-night’s rest. So rest just isn’t in my schedule. Maybe just a bit of rest.
Maybe it’s just the tiredness talking.
As I’m about to walk out into the cold winter night, a person pulls the door handle trying to enter. It confuses me at first so I step back, waiting. Just like that, the doors open and the cold air punctures my face, making me shudder. “Truly one of the coldest winters I’ve lived through, I barely even feel my hands. Gus, pour me a glass of wine immediately or else I shall freeze and become an ice sculpture!”
I recognize his voice before his head of red hair glides into the warm interior. Elliott walks past me at first, but right after he announces his wishes to Gus, who chuckles and goes to get the wine glass, his emerald eyes peer at me.
“Harvey!” he exclaims with a smile. He then notices my coat. “Oh, calling it an early night?”
“I must. Otherwise, Shane and Parsnip are going to carry me themselves to my bed.” We both smile at that and Elliott looks over to the table those two are sitting at. Parsnip is deep into explaining something while Shane sips on his beer and grins. The two of them; two puzzle pieces that just fit with each other.
“I see. In that case, have a good night,” Elliott says and I wish him the same. Only once I’m fully outside does the cold actually hit me. My skin prickles and I feel my moustache itching. It’s definitely going to be a cold winter, I think as I make my way back home across the town’s square. The cold reminds me of the stuff I’d rather forget, like last winter. Well, try to forget at least.
For example, how my mind wandered and I found myself on the icy sand, listening to the call of the sea. Or how I stood there for minutes, hours maybe, looking at the blurry sun rising behind the coat of white clouds. Or how exactly I felt while the seagulls screeched and flopped their wings on the icy wind. Or the yelp. How the scales shimmered in the morning light. Or the long red hair, covered in sand and algae and the sickly white skin decorated with droplets of salt water. How my first reaction was to help and not ask questions. Or how since then, merpeople were not just fairy tales my mother used to tell me before going to sleep.
They were as real as his vulnerable gaze was that winter morning. Some things you can never forget. I wonder if the memory lives in his mind as well, raw like a bleeding wound. I wonder if he tries to forget as well.
But maybe, it’s just the tiredness talking.