Sireana

by kpopismydrug

Summary:

If Minho was born a few decades earlier when it was the norm to encounter mers in the coves and on the beaches of his coastal port town, he may possibly be fascinated by them. He may have even been adventurous enough to travel to the region that is practically named after the sea creatures. But, as per usual, humankind’s history of entitlement and gorging on something that they have no right to gorge on, the relationship between the two species has tilted, to say the least.

You’d really think that after caging orcas for commercial and performance value for centuries that humans would have learnt a few necessary things, such as – do not take life from the ocean and do not expect it to be fucking happy about it.

Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

 

 

Minho doesn’t need ancient shipwrecks.

 

He doesn’t need tangling cavernous depths.

 

He doesn’t need a buddy to watch his back.

 

All he needs is the dead space of losing calculated air time – he’s not insane, he adores the tranquillity of the ocean but he enjoys living more – beneath the surface where the hustle and bustle of reality drones on.

 

Drifting further with the familiar motion of this particular dive site he favours, Minho waits until he sees the noticeable end of the shelf of rocks and the endless cliff drop towards the dark ocean floor beckons, and manoeuvres his body carefully from the drift so that he can swim away from the edge.

 

He’s not in the mood for a deep dive today, his itch is one for laziness as he slowly glides over and around the rocks and hidey-holes for dive crawlers and fish.

 

Minho isn’t – technically – a licenced diver, he doesn’t need a piece of paper to declare that he knows what the fuck he’s doing when he’s been taught and shown (in a rough-but-loving manner) how to not drown in the coastal waters that are a second home to him.

 

Add the childhood fact that he learnt how to swim in the first place from his then closest friend who he often teased should’ve been born a fish because he was always swimming, the rest came naturally.

 

But, being a son from a long line of fishermen that evolved from casual hunting to commercial port fishing also has its benefits. Minho’s been taught every variant of ocean horror tales and folklore, and has caught glimpses of the most favoured aquatic creature too.

 

It kind-of comes with the territory of both growing up on the ocean and diving its depths to encounter the now elusive half-humanoid-half-serpentine creatures.

 

Even as a child, hearing and seeing a mer didn’t fill him with any particular excitement or interest.

 

If he were born a few decades earlier when it was the norm to encounter merfolk in the coves and on the beaches of his coastal port town, he may possibly be fascinated by them. He may have even been adventurous enough to travel to the region that is practically named after the sea creatures, the Isle of Mers, which consists of nine islands but only five have human populations.

 

But, as per usual, humankind’s history of entitlement and gorging on something that they have no right to gorge on, the relationship between the two species has tilted, to say the least.

 

Or, should he say, Capila’s history of entitlement led them to where they currently are as a nation, in terms of a country’s severely biased viewpoint.

 

Unless you’re a diver – or a mer poacher - that is comfortable and experienced within deep depths, you sometimes may catch a glimpse in your peripheral of a tail that doesn’t belong to a shark or dolphin, but he’s never had a mer approach or attack him.

 

Why would they? He’s weaponless, alone, and he ignores them too, so both sides benefit greatly from ignoring each other’s presence.

 

Minho sinks into the ocean to enjoy being alone, to decompress from throwing out drunken idiots at the port pub he works in, or during the peak season when his labourer work is his main income. He doesn’t come here with the hope and goal of befriending a creature that a) would likely try to kill him for intentionally invading its personal space first, and b) cannot communicate in the same manner as humans.

 

Capila was the first country to poach mers, and then Rokna followed.

 

It didn’t take long for both to realise the gravity of such greed.

 

The once public mer aquariums that poached the oceans for mers – just how they did so in the past with orcas – were taught a fast lesson in how volatile and vulnerable these creatures are and not to easily assume that just because they may appear similar to us physically, that we can engage with them in the same manner.

 

You’d really think that after caging orcas for commercial and performance value for centuries that humans would have learnt a few necessary things, such as – do not take life from the ocean and do not expect it to be fucking happy about it.

 

In comparison, the fast release and loss of popularity and glamour of seeing mers behind a glass wall was considerably faster than the release of the last orca from captivity, but having entire populations of mers slaughter their own kind – as well as the humans that handled them - in front of horrified audiences tends to kill the appeal.

 

Private collectors are still a thing, though, so while Minho doesn’t give a fuck about the few rare mers he catches glimpses of, he knows to keep his guard up because of that.

 

Which is why he’s ignoring the very vibrant, out-of-place, navy serpentine tail that he keeps catching snatches off from the corner of his vision as he lazily swims.

 

The mer can be nosey for all he cares; Minho is not going to look at it either way.

 

He only came down here to decompress his mind, not to tangle it up further with dealing with a rogue mer that really shouldn’t be this far up from the usual depths they tend to reside in.

 

Checking his air level to see that he’s nearing his reserve limit for his ascent up to the surface, Minho glances up to check for any passing marine life or boat hull shadow, releases his surface marker from his vest, and watches it inflate up towards the surface.

 

Once his surface marker is settled and steady, he slows kicks up, his movement slow and controlled as he measures his kicks, as he begins to leave the intricate rockeries below him.

 

He’s not too far down, but he knows not to rush to the surface even if it does look deceptively close, he’s heard one too many horror tales of burst lungs or the bends.

 

Keeping his breathing steady as the slow, tedious, ascent drags on, Minho scans his peripheral for any oblivious fish that may get in his way and cause him to use extra breaths.

 

It’s not often that he gets startled whilst diving now that he’s been doing it so long, but having a mer ascend a few metres across from you, perfectly mimicking your form, isn’t the norm.

 

Irritated that the mer has caused him to use extra breaths because it has decided to be a fucking dolphin instead of an avoidant sea creature like it is known to be, Minho fixes his gaze up instead.

 

He can still sense it, but he’s not going to fucking look its way.

 

If he was any other person, he’d probably have some curiosity as to why the mer was this far up and so close to him, but he’s long been used to his own space, his solo diving routine, that he is the one that is annoyed at having to encounter a rogue mer instead of it being the other way around.

 

As long as it stays where it is and doesn’t fully embody becoming a fucking dolphin and coming to hassle him, or his dive equipment, then they’re both good.

 

However, as he lingers below his safety stop as he waits until it is safe for him to break the surface, the mer is lingering too.

 

Unlike the mer’s face, Minho’s face is obscured by his mouthpiece and his goggles, but he wonders if the creature can somehow sense his irritation with him because now that he’s forced to fucking look at the thing, he’s noticing the head tilt and an expression that Minho wishes wasn’t curiosity but blatantly is.

 

Making a shooing gesture with his hands as non-threatening, but pointedly, as he can, Minho’s irritation grows as the mer only mimics him.

 

He knows next to nothing about mers, but he knows enough to know that if a creature is mimicking your actions then that fixation most often leads to the human being injured at some point as personal boundaries get blurred.

 

And the size and length of the mer’s tail isn’t something that Minho wants anywhere fucking near him, thank you. It’s disorientating enough to be noticing details that he’d rather go without knowing about the physical male attributes of the mer, and then comparing to a human male because what else is he supposed to focus on as he waits for his body to decompress to the lighter depth of the surface level?

 

And so, he finds himself in a staring match because the mer looks like he is going to inch closer to Minho as his expressive face betrays his curiosity more, so Minho wants to make it absolutely clear with his gaze alone to not approach him.

 

Then the mer moves, deviating from his stationary bob, causing Minho to jerk and use up more of his reserved air supply as he unwillingly mimics the creature to keep him within his sight as he begins to circle Minho.

 

It doesn’t quite feel like he’s being sized up as his next meal, the mer’s body language is too open for any sneak attack to come, and his face still looks too damn curious instead of predatory with hunger, but that doesn’t mean Minho is fucking happy with the mer’s sudden decision to engage like this.

 

Risking to look away from the mer to take a glance at his air levels and his remaining time, air bubbles surface around his face as he helplessly cusses around his mouth piece at seeing how close the mer is to him now when he looks back at the direction he had last seen him.

 

Without thinking, his gloved palms slap back against the solid wall that is the mer’s torso to push him back from infringing further into Minho’s space, and then panics further because of his kneejerk reaction to gain space between them.

 

However, the mer grins at him – Minho doesn’t know if he ever needed to know that mer teeth aren’t all serrated as a shark’s are – and Minho decides he’ll risk the health consequences and kicks himself immediately up to the surface.

 

Looking for his dinky, ex-fishing, boat, Minho grabs his safety marker and surface swims towards it as fast as he can whilst fighting the deadweight effects of having his arms breach in and out of the surface now that gravity is a thing again.

 

Hauling himself up the metal ladder rungs and falling the rest of the way onto his boat, Minho yanks his mouth piece out and gasps in the crisp ocean air instead as he gazes up at the clouds.

 

Lying there on the deck of his boat, his body retuning to the weight and pressure of an actual solid surface instead of the buoyance of water, Minho groans as he wriggles his feet until his fins pop off and fresh air greets his toes.

 

However, his post-dive routine is cut short by the sounds of water splashing too close to his boat, and the possible thought that the damn mer may be attempting to copy his ascent into his boat has Minho sitting up fast, his weight tilting too far forward due to the weight of his air tank and still readjusting to gravity that the painful grunt that escapes him as his ribs make contact with the edge of his boat is justified as he scans the ladder for any webbed hands.

 

Seeing none, he then scans the water, and yanks off his diving hood and goggles this time to fully unleash his irritated glare as the mer’s head pops up out of the water with a frown on his face now.

 

“Go away,” Minho states, once more gesturing with shooing motions, hoping that the body language is universal enough to convey the message. “I’m not interested in you lot.”

 

The mer’s head tilts at the sound of his voice, possibly - what the fuck does Minho know - but the mer doesn’t heed his insistent shooing and comes closer instead.

 

“No, fuck off,” Minho growls out, reaching down to splash water at the mer’s face, which does get him to stop, but that fucking smile returns instantly, making Minho groan and turn his back to the creature as he begins to loosen the buckles that connect his diving gear to his body.

 

Maybe ignoring him may make the mer lose interest, so Minho sets out to do just that as he returns to his post-dive routine of organising his gear to be cleaned and stored properly back at shore, before checking his phone for any missed alerts whilst he was down under.

 

Not that he has anyone close to bother him, but you never know about a rogue email concerning a job enquiry, or his pub boss informing him about any changes in shifts this week.

 

It almost begins to feel like any other post-dive, and then he hears a sound he hasn’t heard before, making him turn towards it in confusion as his brain tries to make sense of what it’s just heard.

 

It’s not quite a croak, or a bark, its tone high enough to make Minho’s ears wince as he stomps back to the edge of his boat to look down at the water for the culprit.

 

Only, he catches sight of an out-of-place object resting on top of the ledge, sitting in a small puddle of water.

 

The sun isn’t fully bare today, but that doesn’t mean the navy scale that is the size of Minho’s thumbnail doesn’t refract the light, allowing it to reveal depths of tone in just that small sample.

 

Gaze darting from the tail scale that wasn’t there prior to him turning his back to ignore the creature, Minho meets the gaze of the mer that now has his head partially submerged to only allow his eyes to be seen.

 

“I don’t want this,” Minho announces stupidly, pointing down at the scale.

 

The mer, of course, doesn’t understand him, and just tilts his head slightly as he gazes up at Minho with rounded, curious, eyes.

 

The eyes remind Minho too much of how a cat looks when it is excited, or ready to pounce, and immediately hates his brain for the comparison.

 

Slowly, the mer lifts his face further from the water, and this time, the sound that greets Minho’s ears is less harsh than the one before it, but it’s still unfamiliar for him to determine if it is a cry, croak, a warble, or whatever.

 

The sound, paired with the expression on the mer’s face, is not enough for Minho to figure out what the fuck he wants with Minho, or why he decided to leave his scale like how a cat may-

 

Narrowing his gaze down at the mer as he shuts down the rest of the comparison, Minho picks up the scale, ignoring the excited way the mer instantly lights up, and drops the scale, the little ‘plop’ sound confirming its new home in the water.

 

‘Squawking’, is the only word that comes to Minho’s mind as the mer reacts, his voice loud and high before he disappears from Minho’s sight, a fresh spray of water hitting at Minho from the force of his tale connecting with the water as he dives from Minho’s sight, leaving behind a slight ringing to his ears as he rubs at them.

 

And the sudden harsh thud to the bottom of his hull makes Minho swear out into the open ocean as the movement knocks his boat and him, causing him to grab the edge to steady his already wonky balance.

 

Baffled is putting it mildly at how he’s now feeling about the entire encounter, but Minho is ready to swear off this whole experience as he turns his back once more to the ocean and heads into his little cabin and approaches the ignition console and flips everything on so that he can begin his journey back to shore.

 

His sonar beeps, and Minho dismisses as it picking up on the mer’s exit, and eases his boat forward, not in any rush to leave the silence of the ocean as the hum of his boat mingles with it.

 

But when his sonar beeps again, causing him to look at it, dread fills him at seeing the dot tail him.

 

Easing his boat to a stop, Minho stomps back to the edge just as the head of the mer reappears.

 

“Don’t follow me, idiot! You’ll get snatched, or wor-” his snap at the stupid creature breaks off into being absolutely stunned silent as he watches the mer rise from the water to place two navy scales on the edge of the boat with loud, sharp, chirps at him before he sinks back into the water as effortlessly as he rose.

 

Staring at the twin scales, Minho tries to make sense of it and finds that he can’t.

 

He’s never heard of this, well…not that he can recall, anyway.

 

He’s never seen it either. All the mers on the TV reports were shown to be either rightfully violent due to being unnecessarily taken from the ocean, or dead.

 

So, the big question is – what the fuck is the mer doing and how can he get him to stop?

 

Pointing at the scales, and breathing in patience, Minho looks to the awaiting mer and says, “no”, before gesturing an ‘x’ with his arms, hoping that is a universal sign to mers too.

 

And maybe it is, because instantly the mer’s dark eyebrows furrow into a deep frown, a lower sound coming from him, as his eyes seem to dim from the wide excitement Minho had noticed earlier.

 

Now, Minho is weak for only a short list of things – his childhood-but-still-close-friend Felix, and cats.

 

And his brain has already traitorously begun to link certain cat attributes to the mer, so the pang of guilt that punches against his chest at the mer’s response makes him severely conflicted.

 

Minho’s aware that most people class him as a cold asshole, and most people are right about that because there are very few people in this world that know how to read him correctly so the ones that do are worthy of his love and time, but that doesn’t mean he is a cold asshole.

 

He’s not cruel, he doesn’t enjoy inflicting pain on others – human or not – but he also lives a very simple, quiet, life.

 

He has no close family or friends anymore, not since Felix moved away a few years ago, and even longer since the departure of their oldest friend, Chan. Minho has become so used to his routine that others have too. So, for this to happen today, to throw him completely off sync with it, of course he’s going to be a little flustered and irritated.

 

But, it’s coming clearer that the mer is insisting on something from him, otherwise he would’ve left Minho alone before now.

 

Looking at the navy scales again, then looking at the mer that is honestly looking more and more dejected by the passing second as he sinks his face once more back to below eye level, Minho doesn’t know what the fuck to do.

 

So, he does what feels polite in such a bizarre situation.

 

He picks up the scales, and closes his fingers around them this time.

 

Apprehension fills him fast at the immediate way the mer surges towards the boat with wide round eyes again, grinning up at Minho from where he’s partially risen out of the water again.

 

“Stay here, or I drop these,” Minho warns him, gesturing with his free hand to this spot in the ocean whilst the one holding the scales moves out towards the water.

 

The mer makes that same squawking sound as he did when Minho purposefully dropped the earlier scale into the water, but this time the vocalisation is less severe and more…dare Minho think it, in a whiny way?

 

Gesturing with the hand pointing to the water, he repeats, “stay here.”

 

Once the mer looks to his other hand as Minho repeats himself again with the gesture, Minho hopes he’s reading the understanding correctly, and refuses to think about how he’s just effectively communicated with a mer as said mer grins and nods his head.

 

“Okay, this is too much,” Minho whispers to himself, freaked out, as he hurries back to his ignition console and eases his boat forward while keeping his gaze on his sonar that beeps at him to alert him of the mer’s stationary position.

 

He isn’t entirely sure if it is relief or horror that swims through him as the distance between them grows and the mer stays in the exact spot on his sonar.

 

Once he’s out of range to track it, Minho eases his boat from its speed and takes a moment to decompress against the console station.

 

What the fuck was all of that?

 

Why the fuck was the mer so insistent on a) being around him and b) making sure he takes not just one but two of its scales?

 

Minho has no interest in mers. Never has done.

 

But, staring down at the palm of his hand that holds the twin navy scales, he suddenly wishes he knew a whole lot fucking more.

 

How can a supposed predator that likes to feed on humans behave like that?

 

Even though his sonar is telling him that he’s alone, he still looks over his shoulder at the ocean for a now too-familiar head of dark hair and expressive face.

 

Dropping the scales onto his console station countertop, he eases his boat forward, and tries to forget how this particular dive came to its end.

 

He went into the ocean to decompress from stress.

 

He’s returning from it stressed more than ever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He lasts two days before the guilt gnaws through him and he’s back out on the water instead of sleeping in after a chaotic night of fielding drunken idiots out of the port pub he works in.

 

He only said it to get the mer to stop following him because even though merfolk has a reputation for being predators, they are also still glorified to some individuals that would see its presence close to shore as an open invite to try and catch it, but Minho had no intentions to actually follow through with the return journey.

 

But, for the last two days, the guilt had built and curdled.

 

If it wasn’t for those last few seconds where the mer comprehended and responded to Minho’s actions, then maybe the guilt wouldn’t be a thing and the mer would have left his thoughts by now.

 

But, because the mer did comprehend his actions, Minho has found himself festering in countless ‘what if’ thoughts about the mer.

 

The biggest ‘what if’ thought that he couldn’t quieten at all is the very high possibility that the mer is still there, waiting for him, and Minho just…he feels the weight of responsibility of the mer’s wellbeing because he was the one that told him to stay.

 

He had tried to argue with himself that the mer wouldn’t just linger in that one spot for the last forty-eight hours, his survival instinct and basic needs would prevent it.

 

And then he’d have another guilt-festering thought argue against that and he’d find himself back to square one in this pit of overthinking guilt.

 

So, here he is, a stomach riddled with brewing anxiety the closer he gets to the area he last saw the mer, obsessively checking the sonar’s edges before it can beep at him.

 

The sea conditions today are a bit ropey due to the storm they had last night still lingering a little, but it’s nothing that he hasn’t experienced before, it just means he has to drive at a lower speed, drawing out the building anticipation that is beginning to make him nauseous.

 

However, it isn’t the sonar that makes his gut drop to his boots, but the distant boat-shape on the horizon that he can see beyond the heavy spray of water that hits up at the window.

 

Already thinking the worse, Minho eases his speed a little faster, needing to know for certain what that boat is and if the guilt crippling his gut is about to become worse.

 

The dread only builds as his sonar beeps, confirming the boat’s presence.

 

“Fuck, fuck,” he hisses, a clammy, cold, sweat breaking out in his palms as he keeps his boat steady as he gets closer and closer, the beeping not helping with the heavy tension filling his little cabin.

 

Squinting as best as he can through the spray, even leaning against the console to try and get a closer look, Minho’s soul almost breaks from his body as his console radio crackles to life, scaring him silly as he fumbles for it.

 

“I’m not saving you if that wreck you call a boat capsizes.”

 

Sagging against the console at the crackly voice that echoes through the cabin, Minho all but barks into the receiver, “what have I told you about mocking my Honey, Min?”

 

His relief only grows at the laughter that comes through the radio, because if Seungmin – one of two of Felix’s partners in crimes – is in the mood to mock Minho’s boat then the situation isn’t as dire as it looks.

 

“Am I clear to come closer, or am I disturbing a release?” Minho radios, even as he eases his speed so that the waves are the ones bobbing him closer.

 

“Do you have to come closer?” is the predictable retort he gets over the radio, making Minho roll his eyes as he eases his speed back up, and then his radio crackles again with a new voice this time.

 

“Follow us instead,” Jeongin, the last missing piece to the trio, insists instead, sounding out of breath. “Felix is stressing out about this mer we’ve found-”

 

Minho doesn’t hear anything beyond ‘mer’.

 

He can’t hear anything beyond the rushing filling his ears and the sour taste flooding his mouth as his stomach rolls.

 

“Mer?” Minho hears himself echo the word, realises he’s fisting the receiver too tightly in his hand and forces his fingers to loosen as his radio crackles back.

 

“Well, we didn’t think it would be a mer when we came to investigate what our sonar was relaying, just expected it to be a tangled shark or something, but once you see it then you’ll understand why Lix is freaking out.”

 

Minho watches as the boat ahead of him begins to move, no longer bobbing stationary as it had been, and doesn’t even think of it as he eases his to follow it as he radios back.

 

“Mers don’t trust humans,” Minho faintly points out, despite knowing the trio’s whole agenda and controversial opinion when it comes to the sea creatures.

 

It’s one of the reasons why Felix moved away from their little port town, after all.

 

“And humans don’t trust mers,” comes Seungmin’s voice this time, “but that hasn’t stopped us three, has it?”

 

Minho narrows his eyes at the radio as he responds. “That will be the last time I worry for your face then, Min.”

 

“Worry for your own face because Felix isn’t going to be happy when I tell him that you’re out in this weather in that death trap.”

 

Okay, Seungmin has him there, and Minho can already hear his friend’s worried nagging in his head.

 

You’d think that Felix was the older one and not Minho, with the way he worries.

 

“First of all, not all of us have rich parents to guilt trip into funding a controversial lifestyle,” Minho retorts with a grin to himself because he can visualise the younger male’s eye roll perfectly, “and secondly, don’t speak of my Honey in that manner.”

 

When his radio crackles, Jeongin’s background cackling only makes the radio connection crackle more, but Minho can still pick out Seungmin’s catty retort of, “no need to be jealous, just ask me nicely and I’ll get them to buy you an upgrade,” which only makes Jeongin laugh louder in the background.

 

Snorting at the cheeky reply, Minho radios back, “your fancy boat can still roll in these waves, so stop sassing me and focus instead.”

 

He knows the male won’t leave it at that, so when his radio crackles, Minho is already rolling his eyes fondly at the “okay, dad” that he gets in response.

 

Deciding to be the adult (for once), Minho concentrates on his own boat whilst also trying not to overthink the obvious.

 

Is it a coincidence that they’ve found a mer in the exact area where Minho last saw his?

 

Not a chance.

 

Minho dives in this area a lot because, out of all of his dive locations, this spot is the one that has the least mer activity. It’s not completely quiet, and he didn’t dive as deep as he normally does here, so really…he shouldn’t have even seen the mer that day.

 

But, he did.

 

And for some reason only the mer knows, he decided to follow Minho, and now the mer is in a tank on Felix’s boat.

 

Gnawing on his dry lips, Minho fails to not think of the reasons why the mer is in the tank in the first place.

 

Felix isn’t a poacher, but calling him one is a sure way to enrage the soft male to make you ever regret it, and his heart has always been big, even as kids, which is saying something considering the rough and brashness of their town.

 

Yiport is not known for its accepting heart, it’s known for its loud distaste for all things mer, its own stories of encountering the sea creatures always ending with death, or hatred. Growing up in a port town that relies heavily on the sea for its way of living, as well as some of the questionable traditions of throwing your kids overboard to get them used to the fear of such, Minho could never understand the volatile disconnect. The three of them never could.

 

Chan left Yiport first, though he left to pursue and grow his passion for keeping people safe on the beaches and in the ocean, and then Felix left to escape the only narrative that exists here, a narrative that clashed greatly with his big heart and open mind.

 

Felix isn’t a poacher, or a hater of mers.

 

He’s a marine rehabilitation enthusiast – aka, he takes in all types of stray, injured, aquatic creatures and nurtures them back to health for releasement.

 

Which means the mer that Felix’s crew is currently hauling is injured, or worse, sick.

 

Minho winces at the sharp pain and metallic taste that floods his tongue as stops gnawing at his lower lip.

 

This was not an outcome that he had riddled around his skull.

 

And whilst the mer is obviously in safe hands, that doesn’t remove the guilt plaguing him.

 

So, even though Felix lives nowhere near Yiport now, Minho’s strictness with his safety whenever he’s out in his boat, or in the water, is coming in handy now with the full tank of gas he has for the unplanned journey.

 

And what an unplanned journey he’s now on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Considering Felix’s line of work, his passion, it’s his openness that never fails to impress Minho.

 

However, that doesn’t mean his friend is a pushover.

 

Minho has barely finished tethering his boat to the very dock that he had helped restore a few years back when the trio had purchased the abandoned site that they would spend the next year renovating the best they could with the little funds they had when he hears the sound of running footsteps thudding over the wood.

 

Glancing up and only getting a snatching look of bleached hair, Minho’s core and thighs strength are the only things keeping him from tumbling down into his boat as Felix slams into him.

 

“Fuck, Lix!” Minho grunts, and then he’s hissing and flinching as the quick embrace sharp turns into a rebuking one.

 

“How many times do I have to nag you before it sinks into that head of yours to not go out after a storm?” Felix vents, his worry and irritation obvious even without the light slaps he’s laying at Minho’s arms and gut. “That boat won’t last two seconds with a wave surge, and you know it.”

 

Instead of replying, he snatches Felix’s arms and yanks him back in for a calmer, longer, hug, cradling his childhood friend close.

 

“That’s playing dirty,” Felix mumbles petulantly, his naturally deep voice making it sound even more petulant, as he wriggles his arms free so that he can wrap them around Minho’s back, tucking himself closer despite them both being the same height.

 

“Childhood friend privileges,” Minho huffs, grinning, not even ashamed of using Felix’s affinity for physical closeness to his advantage to worm out of a scolding.

 

“I’m still mad that you followed us,” Felix mumbles against Minho’s raincoat.

 

“I wasn’t going to have a stationary radio conversation with you whilst knowing that you had a sick creature onboard,” Minho says softly, his throat only minorly clenching at the vague mention of the mer, his eyes drawing over to the other boat that is in the process of setting up to transfer the mer from the tank onboard and onto the parked flatbed trailer that is waiting for the net and its guest.

 

Felix must sense his distraction because he’s the one to end the hug (rare, because if you give Felix the chance for cuddles then he’s not going to be the one to break it first), and Minho glances back at his friend to take him in properly now that he’s not launching himself at Minho.

 

His bleached hair has his natural dark roots already growing in that only Felix ever seems to pull off the way he does, the long, brushed-back, strands dryly clumped together from being in contact with sea water, but the collar of a wetsuit peeking out from beneath the padded coat makes Minho narrow his gaze at his friend.

 

“Oi, what have I told you about getting into the ocean in this weather?” Minho begins to nag him, purposefully pulling at the wetsuit collar and making Felix jerk back out of his reach.

 

“I wasn’t in it…this time.”

 

Not for the first time has Minho wondered just how Chan would’ve reacted in moments like this about their youngest friend because it often feels like Minho’s protective nagging isn’t quite enough.

 

But, Chan isn’t around, and hasn’t been for years. Contact fizzled out years ago between the three of them as their friend travelled around Sireana. It’s not like they had a reliable phone number for them to call him on, but even the emails they all shared weren’t enough in the end to maintain the once solid bond. 

 

“Anyway,” Felix stresses, pulling Minho from his thoughts, “you’ve never seen us transfer a mer, you wanna head inside first or learn something?”

 

Playfully pushing the already giggling male, Minho slowly tags along behind Felix’s hurrying form, already watching the transfer begin in motion as shouts come from the boat and the grinding sound of the onboard net crane begins.

 

Minho hasn’t personally been on the boat that naturally dwarfs his own (his may be an ex-fishing boat, but it wasn’t commercially issued) whereas the trio’s boat is ex-commercial, so it comes with the needed equipment one needs when you’re determined to save sick sea creatures.

 

Oh, and it also helps that this brand of boat in particular is an ex-commercial mer boat. So, you know, even more convenient for the trio’s controversial opinion and lifestyle that mers aren’t human predators, and why Minho will never stop teasing Seungmin for guilting his parents in funding for buying one because it’s bitterly beautiful that their only son chose to not live a quiet life in Clendan, the Capital of Capila, and that he chose to correct a sordid piece of his family history by forcing them to use their amounted fortune from said sordidness to help and protect mers that need it.

 

Minho has all the time in the world for people that have backbones to go against the rigid narratives and opinions of the world, because in this day and age there shouldn’t be such rigid opinions when statistics and daily proof counter them.

 

If mers were exactly what the majority paint them to be, then humans wouldn’t be able to step a toe into open water without getting dragged out and drowned by them, but does that happen? No. Why? Because every coastal guard station provides the numbers of how often a mer actually breaches a beach and causes terror, or how often a pod of mers will attack a boat.

 

And the number of encounters reported by these coastal stations throughout Sireana?

 

Zero.

 

And yet, the likes of Capila - a country steeped in wealthy resources to know fucking better - still insists that mers are a natural predator to humans, and every summer there is the unrelenting nationwide campaign of ‘reminding’ people to be ‘wary’ and ‘vigilant’ when visiting beaches, or being in the ocean, even though humans are the ones being invasive, those statistics are abundant.

 

So, whilst he may not personally give a shit about learning deeply about mers, Minho cannot tolerate people that insist these creatures are a predator to humans, which is why he gets on so well with the crew that the trio have gathered over the years.

 

And even though he played a heavy, exhaustive, hand in trying to get the once commissioned-then-quickly-abandoned-ex mer aquarium up and running for the trio, he hasn’t been around often enough to witness how they start the whole rehabilitation process for their aquatic patients.

 

Glancing from the boat that is still in the process of getting the crane where it needs to be for a safe transfer, he looks at the slightly distant long, rectangular, building that should’ve never been commissioned to be an aquarium for anything, never mind for mers, because even though they couldn’t structurally change much but the roof, what architect believed it was morally acceptable to install a fucking swimming pool on the roof of the building so that swimming humans could look down into skylights of the tanks within to see the mers trapped within?

 

 

‘Mer aquariums’ like that were never intended to be anything more than a cash grab without any intentions of ever giving the mers an enriching life, at least the true aquariums had that in mind for the mers even whilst forcing them into lives of captivity.

 

His attention is drawn from the building and back to the boat as Jeongin’s voice begins the countdown of transfer, the mechanical groan of the crane lifting weight as the small crew that volunteers regularly for the centre assist with ensuring the careful transfer as the net appears.

 

He doesn’t breathe as he watches the delicate process of the net being eased over and then down onto the waiting trailer that has a shallow pool of water within it despite the only short drive up from the docks and to the building.

 

His feet have him moving closer, not really registering the shouts and directions as everyone works to a beat that only they know, watching as Felix hauls himself up onto the back of the trailer to check if the net is truly flat on the bed, whilst two volunteers are disconnecting the two top rungs of the net from the crane and connecting them to the pole that will keep it somewhat lifted and off the creature whilst it is on the trailer bed.

 

“Secure!” Felix shouts, which signals another beat to their working rhythm as the boat’s crane eases away, and the two volunteers that had secured the net to the trailer hop off the sides of it with one of them hopping onto the ATV seat that the trailer is connected to, and the other rushing ahead of the dock on foot.

 

Felix notices him and reaches out for him just as the ATV kicks to life.

 

“Get on,” is all the male barks, leaving Minho no room to think about it as he grabs Felix’s hand and grabs the metal edge of the trailer with his other, standing on the ledge that Felix is tiptoeing on as the ATV eases forward.

 

But, it’s not because of the jerk of the ATV moving as slowly as it dares with precious cargo that has Minho’s gut rolling, but the colouring of the serpentine tail he can see through the green netting.

 

And as his gaze travels up it, and the torso that looks distinctively sickly even to his uneducated eyes, Minho can’t help but clutch at Felix’s hand tighter, making the male hum in understanding, as the mer lethargically lifts his head the best he can from where he had been resting in the shallow water.

 

“I know, he looks bad, but-” Felix’s remark is cut off as the mer’s entire body language shifts in an instant.

 

His navy tail coils, as if the mer is trying to rise, his hands grabbing the netting surrounding him as he begins to writhe and thrash erratically, causing Felix to climb into the trailer, with Minho hollering his name and yanking him back because he’s still got a hold of his hand.

 

“He’s panicking!” Felix snaps at him, not seeing the obvious danger of a trashing tail that could break both of his legs in an instant if it were to smack into him, as he tries to break the death grip that Minho currently has on his hand.

 

“He’s bigger and stronger than you, even whilst sick, give him space!” Minho snaps back, not taking his gaze off the struggling mer.

 

Minho doesn’t know if it’s the combination of his and Felix’s raised voices, the sound of the ATV, the way the trailer rumbles over the wooden planks of the dock, or just the mer’s entire distress of the situation, but the sound he makes is clearly a cry, and not an angered one.

 

Guilt rushes back through Minho at the sound.

 

And then his gaze accidentally meets the mer’s.

 

The guilt solidifies into a lump in his throat at the recognition he can see in those bloodshot eyes.

 

“Shit,” he can’t help but croak out, letting go of Felix to grab the trailer edge with firm hands to stop himself from leaping off the thing to escape the reality of his actions.

 

When the mer makes that cry sound again, this time sounding even more desperate than the first time, it’s like a physical vice around his chest, making him curl his shoulders in to avoid it.

 

“He knows you?” is the remark that Minho could really do without hearing from his friend.

 

Glancing at Felix’s stupefied expression, Minho tightly says, “in a fashion.”

 

Both of them jolt as the ATV and trailer transitions from off the docks and onto tarmac, but the mer continues to thrash within the net as he clings to it to maintain his tenuous upright position.

 

“Explain later, he needs to calm down, he’s too sick to be this stressed,” Felix says as the ATV’s speed picks up now that they’re on stable land, the cold wind cutting over them, as they get closer to the centre.

 

“What the fuck do you expect me to do? You’re the specialist, not me,” Minho rushes out, panicking as Felix once again moves towards the net.

 

The instinct of an entire lifetime spent prioritising Felix’s safety over his own is the reason why Minho finds himself climbing into the trailer, his boots hitting the water with a splash, as he hurries to get between the mer and Felix.

 

A frustrated shout of his name as he yanks Felix back hard enough that the male stumbles into the trailer edge pales in comparison to the immediate silence that takes place at his back.

 

He doesn’t need to take Felix’s wide-eyed gaze as confirmation for what the skin on the back of his neck is relaying, his muscles locking up in his core and thighs to keep his balance, as a low sound emerges from the mer at his back.

 

“No sudden movements,” Felix points out the obvious to him as the younger male tentatively draws closer again, using the side of the trailer for extra stability.

 

“Take another step and I’ll launch us both out of this trailer,” Minho hisses at his friend, tone serious, as he widens his stance in preparation to do just that.

 

And then the ATV judders as it turns into the bend of the road.

 

And one of two things happens instantly.

 

He misses Felix’s hand that the other had snapped out for him to grab to steady his already tumbling balance.

 

And lands himself on his side against the wet, nylon, netting, directly face-to-face with the mer.

 

This is closer than the first and last time that the mer was up in his space, but this time Minho’s kneejerk reaction to escape is as disorientated as he is as he stares at the stiff mer.

 

Up close, Minho can see further signs of the creature being sick – the blotchy bruising under his eyes that look severely irritated by something to cause them to be as weepy and bloodshot as they are, the hollowness in his cheeks that make his face look gaunt, but he also looks like he has sunburn too, which shouldn’t be possible for a creature that resides underwater.

 

And just like how he did underwater, the mer is tilting his head curiously at Minho, his eyes slowly rounding as another sound comes from the creature.

 

“Interesting,” comes the very unhelpful observation from his friend at Minho’s back.

 

Not willing to take his gaze off the creature – hey, just because he doesn’t believe that mer’s are predators to humans, they are predators and have the same gut instinct to respond like one when threatened – Minho hisses out, “we better be close to the doors.”

 

“Almost,” Felix confirms with a light laugh. “He wasn’t this responsive when I coaxed him into the net.”

 

Breathing in a much-needed inhale of patience at hearing Felix’s words, Minho instead risks his already precarious balance against the net in order to kick out a leg in the direction that Felix’s voice is coming from, making the male laugh again.

 

Only, as Minho rights his balance, his grip tightening on the net, the mer releases one of his hands and reaches for one of Minho’s.

 

He doesn’t know what the fuck he was expecting to happen, but having one of the mer’s fingers lightly poke at his grip on the net, wasn’t it.

 

“What?” Minho can’t help but demand at him, once more lost with trying to read the creature, as he prods the back of Minho’s fingers again, his touch lingering this time. “Oi, I can’t move away yet, just wait.”

 

The mer tilts his head to the other side, another sound leaving him, and Minho just groans quietly in frustration at not knowing what he wants from Minho.

 

Thankfully, the ATV slows and comes to halt, and Minho seizes the moment to scramble back from the net now that the trailer is stationary.

 

In his haste to eject himself far and fast from the mer, Felix has to catch him and steady him, both of them flinching at the loud squawk that comes from the mer, his body language shifting from being docile to rigid in a second.

 

“What did I say about no sudden movements?!” Felix hisses at him, but Minho is already hopping over the trailer and lands with a grunt on the tarmac.

 

The mer’s squawk transitions into a shrill cry, making Minho wince and cover his ears from how piercing it is, and a quick glance at Felix shows him doing the same with an expression of concern directed at the mer.

 

“Okay, we need to get him back into water asap,” Felix orders, his face still concerned, as he climbs over the trailer edge with far more grace than Minho had, as the two volunteers set to work on hooking the net onto a mini forklift crane.

 

“Where are you going to put him?” Minho questions, looking at the centre doors, recalling the interior layout of where the tanks are located. “You only have one decent for his size, and that’s the end one.”

 

“You just answered your own question,” Felix retorts, gaze not leaving the mer’s return to thrashing in the net, as one of the volunteers begins to manoeuvre the crane into lifting it from out of the trailer whilst the other carefully calls directions for it.

 

“Again, I still stand by my argument that this place sucks as a functional building.”

 

“Noted. Now, do me a favour?” Felix switches tones so fast from dry, to cunning, that Minho squints at him in instant suspicion.

 

“Depends on what it is.”

 

Felix nods to the centre doors. “Go up and be bait for us.”

 

Confusion - instead of rightful indignation - rises at the ‘favour’. “Why the fuck do I need to be bait?”

 

“Because - as you established earlier - he knows you ‘in a fashion’,” Felix reminds him, “and he needs a distraction as we carry and lift him in order to deposit him into the tank.”

 

The centre isn’t that big, but as the mer continues to thrash and stress himself out, the worse Felix is going to feel about the creature’s health state, so instead of standing here and arguing the ridiculousness of it all, Minho stomps towards the entrance doors and inputs the code that only muscle memory knows.

 

Because the architect that designed this excuse of an ‘aquarium’ didn’t care about practicality and only cared about aesthetics, all of the tanks are enclosed in this one, long, museum-like space, with the biggest tank taking up the entire backend of the building, with individual tanks sporadically placed throughout the space, and high up in the ceiling is where the only access points to the tanks in the form of a catwalk platform above them and each tank has its own corresponding ‘skylight’ that would’ve been used as ‘windows’ for the original blueprint design of being a rooftop swimming pool.

 

Now, the skylights are still there, but the pool length above is not. And, it’s no longer strictly a ‘swimming’ pool, but now two exposed ‘tanks’ – the closest being shallow enough to act as a pool rockery, with a concrete walkway separating it and the furthest pool that is deep enough for functionality.

 

They were limited in budget and structural changes during the renovation process, so they made do with what they had.

 

Minho’s boots thud heavily on the stairs up to the catwalk platform just as Felix directs the crane inside the building too.

 

Minho mirrors the journey from above, walking above the empty tanks until he gets to the last one at the very end of the building, but he can’t help but watch how the mer reacts to the change of environment.

 

He’s no longer thrashing, but Minho can tell that he is frightened by the sudden change from being outdoors and into an enclosed space because of how unnaturally still and silent he is.

 

So, whilst Felix is busy directing the process, and once the crane has eased itself down the mini ramp into the split-level floor that this side of the building drops into (again, zero practicality was taken into consideration by whoever commissioned this aquarium to be built), Minho sees the net shift with movement from the mer himself instead of the crane doing so.

 

He hears Felix give the all-clear for the crane to begin lifting the net to the height of the tank, watching the net move to be above the tank and then the crane steadily lowers it until the bottom of the net touches the water.

 

Once Felix calls for the release of the net, the net spills open into the tank with one rung still connected to the crane to allow it to be lifted out of the tank.

 

But, Minho’s attention isn’t on that, but on the pair of eyes that are looking up at him, eerily familiar to how the mer looked up at him when he last encountered the creature.

 

“Okay, now what do I do?” Minho calls down to Felix, glancing from the mer to do so.

 

“Keep him entertained whilst we regulate the tank to his requirements!” Felix sweetly calls, heading for the side door where the centre’s filtration system is located for every tank.

 

Looking up at the ceiling, gaze drawn to the end tank’s skylight, Minho quietly chants to himself to not go down there and throttle his friend.

 

A light spray of water greets his boots, and he narrows his gaze down at the mer responsible for it.

 

“This doesn’t make us friends,” Minho tells him, only to stand straighter at noticing the unsteadiness in how the mer seems to be struggling to remain up at the surface. “Oi, no, you’re not a surface dweller, why exhaust yourself being up here when you can be relaxing down there?”

 

All he gets for an answer is a light spray of water from the mer as he struggles to lift his tail fin above to surface to flick the spray at him.

 

Not liking the building mount of dread settling in his gut, but having too much evidence stacking up against him to deny it, Minho rushes down the catwalk, wincing at how the mer’s vocalisations echo badly inside as he leaves his vision to get onto the ground floor.

 

Felix’s grunt of pain echoes from that end of the building, no doubt having caught himself on the door in his hurry to see why the mer is practically screaming, and as Minho sprints along the concrete floor towards the tank, the dread in his gut settles deeper as he watches how…how frantic the mer is at the top of the tank as he tries and fails to rise high enough to see above the end of the catwalk.

 

“What-oh, wait,” Felix stops and starts, equally as confused as Minho is feeling as he notices Minho’s approach, “you’re supposed to be keeping him occupied, not stressed.”

 

“Look at him,” Minho directs sharply, pointing at the mer. “He’s clearly exhausted, but he won’t leave the surface.”

 

Felix looks back at him, concerned and confused. “He wouldn’t leave it?”

 

“No? Well-fuck, it looked that way anyway, but he’s clearly got some sort of fixation on me – he did back in the ocean and now here – so I thought I would…” he trails off as he comes to a stop in front of the glass, and even though he knows how thick it is, he still taps his knuckles against it.

 

Maybe mers have sensitive ears, because the mer flinches even at his light tap against the glass, but once he notices Minho’s new position, Minho can’t help but jerk back at how fast he approaches the glass, his webbed hands pressed against it, his face not too far from doing so either.

 

Feeling the weight of Felix’s gaze on him, Minho can’t help the defensive way his shoulders bunch up as he looks at his friend.

 

“You know me,” Minho stiffly begins under the weight of Felix’s studious gaze. “I avoid these when I’m out there, I don’t go cosying up with them.”

 

“I know,” Felix reassures him, tone gentle, as he approaches Minho slowly, as the sounds of Seungmin’s and Jeongin’s voice echo from back at the entrance.

 

“So, don’t be looking at me like I’ve done something-”

 

“He trusts you.”

 

Minho almost bites his tongue in half at the confident declaration.

 

“No,” Minho denies adamantly. “He’s curious about me, for some fucking reason that only he knows.”

 

“He’s clearly attached to you, and it’s not uncommon for sea creatures to befriend humans, just look at how dolphins like to socialise with us,” Felix points out factually, making Minho roll his eyes because he had compared the mer to the species too.

 

“I don’t like the sound of where this is going,” Minho dryly states, because he knows Felix too damn well to know that the younger is just not going to let this go.

 

“You never do, but you always stay and help,” Felix points out with a small, tender, smile, and Minho hates it, hates how the kid has a special fucking place in his heart that renders him incapable of saying no to him.

 

But, Felix is his chosen baby brother. And if Felix needs his help with…what the fuck do you call it when you have to entertain a sea creature that you can’t understand…then…

 

Groaning loudly up at the ceiling for one last time, before he looks and points a finger at the already smug-grinning male.

 

“I’m not staying because I’m interested in learning about him,” he declares stubbornly, even if a tiny part of him is desperate for some fucking explanation of why it had to be him the mer decided to fixate on, “and I still need to go back to Yiport for some form of income.”

 

“Sure,” is all that Felix answers with as he comes and tucks himself against Minho, clinging to him in a soft hug that Minho automatically returns, as he continues with, “welcome to the ODDINARY.”

 

Shoving the giggling brat away, Minho playfully snaps, “I practically remoulded this place by hand, you should’ve named it after me in thanks.”

 

“We signed your name in a wall somewhere, what more do you want?” comes Seungmin’s chortling retort from the steps up to the split-level.

 

“You’re staying?” Jeongin’s excitement is Seungmin’s saving grace.

 

“Only until he-” Minho jerks a thumb behind him at the tank where he can still feel the gaze of the mer watching them, “-decides that I’m no longer interesting.”

 

Minho can see it, can see the mouthy urge tug at Seungmin’s lips for the retort on his lips, and counts to exactly three seconds before, “were you ever interesting?” spills from those lips.

 

It’s been a while since he last sat on the cheeky male.

 

But, frantic, dull, thumping from the tank behind him causes him to freeze on the steps up to the split-level, his gaze shifting from Seungmin’s cackling fleeing form, to the mer pressed as close as he can get against the glass, his expression-

 

“Why does he look like he’s in pain?” Jeongin questions instantly as he bypasses Minho to get a closer look at the mer. “I don’t see any injuries, bar the burns on his face and torso from sun exposure.”

 

Standing, rigid, on the two steps, Minho listens as Felix says, “they’ve met before, so I think the familiarity of seeing Minho is the thing keeping the mer from freaking out.”

 

“But…Minho wasn’t around when we found him,” Jeongin argues slowly, and Minho knows he has to admit to it, the deep-rooted guilt in his gut is growing deeper roots as the youngest out of the four of them continues. “And the mer was willing enough to trust us for you to guide him into the net?”

 

Taking a deep inhale, Minho pivots on the spot, refuses to look at the tank, and says, “I…may be the cause of why he was there….and….why he’s in the state that he is in?”

 

At the twin expressions of confusion directed at him, Minho sags with a sigh, and proceeds to sit on the steps with a grunt.

 

And once he shares his original encounter with them, their expressions are even more confused.

 

It’s good to be on an even playing field now, it doesn’t feel like he’s the only one drowning in confusion.

 

“Okay…we can theorise why after we’ve retrieved some samples from him,” Felix states, trying and failing to balance the news that Minho has dropped on them. “He needs nutrients and rest, so those come first.”

 

Minho nods, knowing next to nothing about the healthcare requirements regarding aquatic creatures, and just listens to Felix and Jeongin strategize a care plan for the mer that hasn’t so much as moved from his spot against the glass.

 

But, it’s getting plainer to see that the mer is battling exhaustion in the way his eyes keep struggling to remain open, or the fact that he’s no longer pressed against the glass but slumped against it instead.

 

Jeongin is the one out of the three with a medical license to treat aquatic animals, but that doesn’t mean that Felix and Seungmin aren’t clueless – Jeongin is the genius brain, Felix and Seungmin are the enthusiastic body and limbs of the centre.

 

Add the fact that the ODDINARY is popular with like-minded individuals as the trio, and while the rehabilitation centre may be small, the passion that these trio provide for the oceans has become well-known in the last couple of years.

 

Good for the centre, in terms of volunteers that can not only help with being hands-on and also share their own experiences too, but bad in terms of the centre being limited with the calls of help they receive due to their size.

 

Minho knows that the trio have bigger plans, but a bigger place is needed, and so far, neither of them are willing to make that move when the ODDINARY is still only a few years old.

 

But, he knows where their passion truly comes from, and he can see it burning alight now as the duo in front of him share their concern for the mer.

 

Mers have a special place in their hearts, so this mer is in the literal best place for the nurturing he needs to recover from….well….Minho doesn’t want to admit that he is the cause of the mer’s demise in health, but the circumstances are pointing to it.

 

As the mer finally loses his battle to remain conscious, his body sagging down and against the glass until his body hits the sandy bottom of the tank, Minho can’t help but question how a creature like a mer went against his core instincts to maintain his health?

 

But, now that the mer is unconscious, Felix and Jeongin use the opportunity to prepare their needed samples from him, and Minho uses the chance to track down a phone to notify his boss/landlord that he won’t be back for a few days.

 

It just….none of this makes sense.

 

None of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once he’s notified his boss/landlord that he’ll be absent for a couple of days, Minho returns to his boat to grab his spare rucksack of old clothes that he always has stashed onboard for dives where he needs the extra dry layer as he’s adjusting to being above water again.

 

This isn’t the first time that his penchant for being overprepared for anything whilst he’s out on the water has come in handy, but it has been a while.

 

Entering the centre with his rucksack over his shoulder, Minho veers to his left to the only other door and enters another code that only muscle memory retains, entering the ‘clinic’ section of the centre.

 

It’s really just a compact room that just barely fits all the major components a rehabilitation centre needs with enough wriggle room to not step on each other’s toes.

 

He bypasses the medical equipment that is a mix of second-hand and new, lightly flicks the back of Seungmin’s head as the male is distracted with retrieving whatever it is he knows that Jeongin will need from the cupboards, and enters another door code and enters the stairwell that leads him up to the residential floor of the centre.

 

Thankfully, he doesn’t need to enter another code, but the door squeaks just as badly as it did the last time he was here, making him huff under his breath because he should’ve known better than to leave behind the small job of oiling the door joints for one of the trio to do.

 

The residential floor is the same size as the clinic below it, but unlike the clinic, in order to have as much functional space in a limited space, Minho had convinced the trio to take height space from the external storage room on the roof to erect a half-floor which would be reserved for their sleeping area.

 

It also means that all volunteers have to find their own lodgings in the town which is roughly a forty-five-to-an-hour drive away, but that hasn’t been a deterrent yet, not when the ‘main’ area of the residential floor acts as a communal living area with a kitchenette, as well as separate rooms for the toilet and wet room and a utility room under the loft.

 

Erecting the loft was easy because, in comparison to the rest of the building, this section of the building had been in its structural phase, allowing Minho to go nuts without a lot of clean up after.

 

Not that they could put actual beds up there because the head-to-ceiling ratio is a bit tight, but the semi-privacy of not having your personal shit out there for all to see is the price you pay when you decide to purchase a non-functional building as your base of curing sick sea life.

 

And airbeds are a lot cheaper and easier to store/move than framed beds.

 

Climbing the wooden ladder (okay, so Minho did all that he could but if he were to have built even the smallest set of stairs then they would’ve lost even more valuable space, he’s not a miracle worker), he flings his rucksack onto the closest airbed of the three up here and then drops back down so that he can finally get out of his waterproofs and semi-freshen up from being in them.

 

Freshened up, his waterproofs hanging on one of the many wall hooks to ensure they are full dry before he can pack them away, he leaves the residential floor to see if there is anything he can do whilst the trio are busy doing their admission routine that they do with a new patient of theirs.

 

He knows that the few volunteers are back at the boat, getting it ready for the next trip out whenever that may be, all prepped and ready to leave at the earliest call, so he decides to do a quick lap around the building to check for any maintenance work that he can do whilst he’s here.

 

Mental checklist run through and noted, he returns to the end tank just as Jeongin is finishing up with taking water samples from above on the catwalk, thankfully using an extended tool to assist with it so that the younger is not at risk of falling in head first.

 

“Verdict?” Minho questions to Seungmin, sitting down on the steps, as Felix hurries past him to get the samples from Jeongin.

 

Seungmin shrugs, gaze on the still passed-out mer. “It looks like a simple case of exhaustion, but if what those two have told me is true, then you’re the reason why he’s burnt.”

 

“Okay, since we’re going to go down that road, why would he go against all self-preservation instinct to remain exposed at the surface?” Minho retorts back, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, his elbow balanced on his knees.

 

“Good question, it goes against what we know of mers to do,” Seungmin hums in agreement, looking back at Minho with nothing but open curiosity as he continues. “They’re avoidant of humans, unless directly provoked.”

 

“I didn’t provoke him,” Minho declares. “I was minding my own business, as I always do.”

 

“Chill, I know how you work,” Seungmin says as he comes to sit near Minho on the steps. “Anything about his behaviour that seemed odd?”

 

Minho stares at him blankly. “How am I meant to know what counts as ‘odd’, bar the obvious of him being out of the depths?”

 

“You know, considering who you are friends with, you’d think that something about mers would have stuck in that head.”

 

“You think that I had the extra time to absorb everything that you three spouted every day whilst I was busy trying to build you as close as I could get to a functional, working, building?”

 

“You had help,” Seungmin snorts, grinning, as he leans back onto his hands.

 

Minho’s left eye twitches as his hands throb with the memory of those months he spent here.

 

“The three of you getting in my way was not help,” Minho retorts, memories hitting him with various of moments of when one of the trio had tried to assist with something only to either a) get hurt somehow with just lifting bags of powdered concrete, or b) give Minho near heart failure by attempting to copy him doing something with a power tool.

 

“I never said it was effective help,” Seungmin laughs, making Minho roll his eyes as he smiles, looking from the male and back to the tank, his smile slipping.

 

“He followed me,” Minho shares, thinking back to that first encounter, “was like my shadow.”

 

Seungmin leans forward, a low hum coming from him. “The few mers that we’ve had contact with all proved to have the intelligence to determine that we weren’t threats, allowing us to safely – for us and them – to rerelease them back into the ocean, but none never stuck around or sought us out.”

 

Minho frowns, glancing at the male. “You were never ever attacked?”

 

Seungmin shakes his head. “Nah, I think the fact that we only ever interacted with them and the tank was to drop fish in, clear out the surface waste, and to take water samples proved that we had no sinister intentions.”

 

Now, Minho is aware that the majority of his ‘knowledge’ concerning mers comes from biased tales that he was taught as a kid, or from what he’s seen on the news when the whole allure of seeing mers behind glass shattered worldwide, but even if it was a tiny fragment of a glimpse into a mer’s intellect, the moment that the mer comprehended Minho’s insistence for him to remain in that spot in the ocean and to not follow Minho any further proved that mers have such comprehension skills.

 

So, while he is surprised that the trio's past encounters with the mers they’ve helped were chill, he’s also still confused as to why the mers responded that way.

 

If he were a mer, and was suddenly approached and coaxed into a net, only to be then placed in a limited space for a short period of time, he’d be freaking out regardless of whether or not he had the ability to read the behaviour of the humans helping him.

 

But, that is him, and he’s very aware that he doesn’t trust easily, so…maybe his response is just unique to him instead.

 

“So, you’re saying that mers can understand us?” Minho says dubiously, aware of the obvious limitations.

 

“In a way, yeah?” Seungmin remarks simply. “They and orcas are the main predators in the oceans, and we know from orca captivity, as well as from social experiments with dolphins, that it isn’t uncommon for these species to be able to read and respond to human behaviour. So, it’s not a wild theory that he may have approached you for the sake of just being a curious mer, and because you’re a familiar face amongst strangers, he’s fixated on your presence at the moment.”

 

“That theory has a hole in it – why would he linger around for two days, risking his health and safety?” Minho points out. “He didn’t understand me when I was talking to him, and I used the generalist of universal body gestures to convey ‘no’ and ‘stop’, so maybe he-”

 

Minho’s skin turns cold and heavy as belated realisation hits him.

 

He’s been so focused on the mer’s behaviour that he completely forgot the most obvious action the mer has done.

 

Tail scales.

 

The mer not only did it once, but twice, with ensuring that Minho noticed the scales he had placed for Minho to see.

 

But…why?

 

Glancing at the male sitting beside him, Minho knows that he’d get a possible answer, if not from Seungmin then from either Felix or Jeongin.

 

And yet…he’s hesitant to.

 

What if he’s making a big deal about something that doesn’t mean anything to the trio? Even then it threw Minho off, and still does now.

 

Actually, now that he’s thinking of them, the last time he saw the scales was when he discarded them on his console deck in his cabin, and he doesn’t really recall seeing them earlier.

 

“Where are you off to?” Seungmin questions his sudden movement as he stands up.

 

“What else am I meant to do, sit and stare at him sleeping?” Minho shoots back as he leaves, ignoring the mocking way Seungmin repeats him in a voice that does not resemble Minho’s in the slightest, brat.

 

He keeps his pace normal, but once he’s close to the docks, he quickens his strides until he is climbing down into his boat and unlocking his cabin door.

 

He keeps his spaces tidy, so he’ll not be surprised if he doesn’t actually find the scales where he last recalls seeing them and that his past self had got rid of them, only to come to a halt at seeing the very out of place colour amongst the chromatic and beige console controls, right where he remembers depositing the scales.

 

Well…he kept them.

 

Immediately irritated at both himself and the mer, he snatches the scales and locks the cabin door once more, before climbing off his boat and approaches the edge of the dock to look down at the way the water laps up against the wooden posts.

 

This time, he won’t have to deal with the mer’s theatrics.

 

And yet, the scales remain in his palm.

 

What purpose would he gain or lose by tossing them in the ocean?

 

And, what will he gain or lose by keeping them?

 

It’s not like the mer can take them back.

 

Right?

 

Surely, they’re just dead scales, just how a reptile sheds its skin for regrowth.

 

….right?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Now that we have a baseline to work with, we’ll monitor his condition by taking regular water readings as well as visual ones,” Felix explains, pouring the hot water into the mug in front of Minho.

 

Sadly, it’s not coffee, since the younger detests it, but he’ll get what he can get in order to settle the dizzying circles his mind has been running in all day.

 

“I can’t believe I’m sticking around to be bait,” Minho grumbles as he gently moves the tea bag in the hot water to loosen up its flavour.

 

“Are you really bait if he hasn’t tried to eat you?” Felix retorts with a huff as they leave the kitchenette to sit on one of the sofas.

 

Getting himself comfortable, Minho uses his sweater sleeves to keep the hot mug from scalding his palms as he says, “I’ve heard Min’s theory, what have you got cooking in that head of yours?”

 

“Not that different from his, and Jeongin agrees – the mer approached you for social reasons, clearly,” Felix says as he too gets comfortable, drawing his legs up so that he can rest the base of his mug on his knees. “Once he’s awake, fed, we can then see if he still has a social interest in you.”

 

“You know, this whole social nonsense doesn’t explain why the mer ended up in shit health,” Minho reminds, feeling like he’s repeating this fact too many times for the three to conveniently overlook. “How do you explain that behaviour?”

 

Felix hums, lips pursed in thought, as he gazes off to a spot beyond Minho’s shoulder. “I mean, the sonar only alerted us to a sole presence – his – in that area, the water didn’t look murky with signs of a previous fight and he doesn’t have any marks or injuries to align with that, only sunburn. Are you sure you’ve never noticed him in that area before?”

 

Minho shrugs, blowing gently on his tea to cool it down faster. “I mean, I notice if a mer is around, hard not to with the lengths of their tails, but I don’t get a good look at faces or anything. I avoid them, you know I do.”

 

“I know, but maybe he’s noticed you, and decided that he was curious enough to attempt a form of socialisation with you?”

 

Minho snorts, shaking his head in disagreement. “That area has the least mer appearances, I only ever see them in that area when I dive deep and I wasn’t that day.”

 

“He wasn’t deep?” Felix questions, gaze fixing on Minho. “I assumed that this all happened at the usual depths?”

 

“Nah, it was a shallow dive, I stayed above the coral rockeries,” Minho shares, daring to take a sip of his tea and flinching back when the liquid burns the tip of his tongue.

 

Felix winces in sympathy, but his gaze is still brimming with interest. “Hmm. Maybe he was already sick when you met?”

 

Minho freezes, gut freefalling from him at the suggestion, as his mind replays that day in a new context.

 

What if…what if the mer was feeling the beginnings of being unwell and was trying to seek some form of help?

 

Maybe that is why the mer was trying to give his scales away? Maybe he’s observed enough human behaviour to know that humans are materialistic creatures?

 

Oh fuck…that’s why the mer reacted the way he did when Minho threw the scale away.

 

Minho places his mug onto the floor, stomach feeling far too queasy.

 

“What was he doing exactly? You said that you’ve met, but never went into specifics,” Felix questions him, and Minho hides his clammy palms into his sleeves as he tries to not focus on the guilt swimming through him.

 

“I dunno? He just…lingered? Swam across from me? Followed me to my boat? I don’t know what you expect a mer to do, Lix.”

 

“He kept at a distance?” Felix questions as he blows lightly at his tea.

 

“Sort-of? I mean, there was a point he circled me and then was just all up in my face, but he didn’t seem to be like he was trying to attack me,” Minho blurts out, recalling that moment, and not liking the immediate way that Felix’s dark eyebrows rise. “What?”

 

“He circled you?” Felix repeats, no longer blowing at his drink. “And then approached you in a non-threatening manner?”

 

“I’m not repeating myself, but yes,” Minho grinds out, unnerved and riddled with lingering guilt. “But he didn’t look or move like he was sick, he was annoying, honestly.”

 

Felix rolls his eyes at that, a snort leaving him. “You’re such an introvert.”

 

“I like my routine and peace,” Minho defends with heat creeping up his neck.

 

“Hmm,” Felix hums, taking a careful sip of his drink, before he continues. “I mean, the circling behaviour doesn’t match with the theory that he approached you because he was feeling unwell. So-called predators don’t engage in that way unless they’re either hunting, or attempting play with kin.”

 

Minho pulls a face at the latter comment. “Do I look like I have a tail?”

 

“Well, in your full diving getup, you could-”

 

“Fuck off. If he is oh-so-smart to comprehend me saying ‘stay’ then he knows the difference between my fake feet fins to real ones,” Minho cuts over the younger’s teasing remark, making Felix giggle into his cup.

 

“Either way, he’s attached to you for some reason,” Felix sighs out, gaze down at his cup, simmering down from his giggles.

 

Minho just tucks his hands close, and grunts in response, as he tries to ease the churning in his gut.

 

“At least there is a bonus to all of this,” Felix says, his tone all too playfully and cheeky, causing Minho to glance back at him from where he had begun to stare off into space.

 

Minho doesn’t bite at the blatant baiting, and waits for Felix to continue, which he does as he hides his grin behind his cup.

 

“We get to share a bed again!”

 

It’s because of the cup in Felix’s hands that is saving the younger from a sofa pillow to the face, so he settles for rolling his eyes hard, making Felix giggle louder.

 

“You’re such a cuddle bug, no matter the age you are,” Minho teases with no bite to his words because, even though it means that he’s going to be dealing with being cuddled into sleepy submission, Felix has always been like this, even when they were kids.

 

In fact, he was worse as a kid because he had a fear of the dark, so Minho and Chan would take turns during their sleepovers to cuddle the youngest to sleep.

 

“Seungmin and Jeongin will be happy for the break, I’m sure,” Felix says with a soft laugh, and Minho dares to try his tea again, reaching down for it to blow across the surface as Felix continues, “but in case it isn’t glaringly obvious, I’m glad that we bumped into each other. It’s been too long since we last saw each other.”

 

Wincing not from the tea this time, but from Felix’s words, Minho gives him an apologetic look that is quickly waved off with an understanding smile.

 

“It’s too easy to fall into a routine, I know,” Felix says softly.

 

And all too easy to forget to reach out, is what Minho adds, because that’s what ended up happening with Chan and them.

 

But, Minho had made a personal vow to not do that with Felix, not when it took them both so long to get used to the missing piece to their trio, to stop bringing him up in conversation if the topic steered towards reminiscing and wonderment.

 

Losing a lifelong friendship to the ripples of life taking you in various directions is harder to accept than the breakdown of a romantic relationship.

 

So, even though he is here for the surface reasons of why a mer decided to fixate on him, deeper below it is the chance for Minho to repair his accidental neglect towards Felix.

 

Minho has lost one dear friend; he refuses to let himself be taken from Felix because he’s been too trapped in his routine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Honestly, he didn’t really know what to expect once the mer woke up, maybe he would be grouchy? Hungry? Have a bit of an attitude with them as a result?

 

Being shaken awake by a frantic Felix, barely able to see beyond the haziness of being woken up so aggressively but able to make out the obscene screeching that seemed to be drilling itself through every wall to reach Minho’s poor eardrums, was not it.

 

It also doesn’t help that he bashes his shoulder off not one door, but two, in his haste to being shoved and pushed all the way to where the sound is coming from.

 

In order to conserve money and energy, the building’s lights run at a dimmer capacity during non-daylight hours, but the soft, ambient lighting, at the base of the tank is not enough for Minho to get a good look at the mer that is causing all the ruckus as he runs towards it.

 

“Get him to calm down, he’s gonna shatter his tank at that volume!” Seungmin pleads from behind him.

 

Jeongin, who is standing in front of the tank, with both hands over his ears, winces visibly when the mer lets out another belting screech.

 

Minho is expecting to feel the warmth of blood to ooze out of his ears any second, but just as he steps down into the area of the end tank, the screeching – thankfully – halts.

 

The dead weight of silence is a blessing that he will never take for granted again.

 

Jeongin jerks back from the tank, a startled sound leaving him, as the mer presses himself against the glass, his body mostly obscured in shadows but the mer’s face and hands are pressed to the glass.

 

It would be comical at seeing a mer press its entire body against the glass and have its features squished up so, but Minho is so disoriented from the last thirty seconds, all he can do is just sag down into a squat in front of the tank to catch his breath and bearings.

 

“Well then, looks like you are his safety blanket,” Jeongin hesitantly states, and Minho hasn’t got the brain power yet for a retort.

 

Instead, he just looks up, and jerks a little at seeing that the mer is more in line with where he is squatting, causing him to be almost lying on the sandy bottom of the tank, his face titled, his eyes fixated on Minho.

 

“I’ll grab you a spare blanket and a pillow,” Felix cautiously announces, his deep voice even deeper from broken sleep, and Minho can’t believe his fucking luck.

 

“You’re annoying,” is all that he says to the mer, who obviously can’t hear or even understand him if he could, watching as the mer refuses to take his gaze from Minho.

 

“We’ll test his…reaction…to your presence in a few hours,” Jeongin says as he shuffles past Minho to leave him to his new duty of keeping the mer company.

 

“If you need to piss, do so now, ‘cause I never want that wakeup call again,” Seungmin calls, making Minho angle his body so that he can gesture to the male to fuck off.

 

Not knowing what time it is but feeling like death from being woken up so abruptly, Minho grunts as he moves to sit on his ass instead, mentally preparing himself to catch the remainder of his sleep on a concrete fucking floor in front of a huge ass tank instead of being cuddled on an airbed.

 

Felix returns fast with the promised spare blanket and a pillow from off the sofa as well as Minho’s phone, whispers another goodnight to him, and leaves Minho to try to wrap the blanket around him in a tight cocoon as he lies down facing the mer that has begun to mimic his body position.

 

It’s hard, uncomfortable, the pillow too stiff for his neck, and Minho can’t find the button for sleep even though he is groping tiredly for it.

 

It also isn’t helping that the mer seems to be wide awake, from what Minho can make out of his face, the alertness in his stiffness.

 

So, he turns until his back is facing the mer, wondering if that may help him feel less like he is the one on display, and tries to desperately fall asleep.

 

He doesn’t know how long, probably hours because it feels it, but eventually, the dry, heavy, tiredness in his eyes relents and darkness greets him.

 

The darkness doesn’t last long.

 

It takes a few moments of confusion to both figure out a) where the fuck he is and why the fuck his body is so goddamn cold and stiff, and b) why is he awake when it feels like he’s just shut his eyes?

 

But, the bright lighting confirms that it is morning now, and with a painful groan escaping him as he flops onto his back, the ceiling of the centre greets and reminds him of the early hours ‘excitement’.

 

The mer is still awake, in the same position that Minho last saw him in, but he visibly perks up at Minho facing him again.

 

“You’re going to be a menace, aren’t you?” Minho grumbles tiredly, his entire body aching from sleeping on the concrete floor with only a shallow amount of padding to protect him from it and the cold.

 

He watches as the mer’s hand moves, and stares at the way his finger taps against the glass.

 

Minho can’t hear it, not from the distance he’s currently at, so he just watches the mer’s expression as he frowns at not receiving a reaction, his finger moving sharper, probably harder against the glass.

 

Again, Minho can’t hear a thing, and this seems to frustrate the mer because his entire body position shifts so that he’s upright, pressed against the glass with one hand whilst the other rears back.

 

For a split second, Minho panics, recalling how strong a mer’s tail is from news coverage, so the rest of a mer’s body has to hold some force to it too.

 

But the mer’s palm only thumps against the glass, this time loud enough for Minho to hear the dim thud.

 

Forcing himself up so that he’s sitting, tucking the blanket tighter around him, Minho snorts softly at the immediate way the mer smiles, pleased with himself, apparently.

 

“I bet you’re hungry, huh?” Minho questions, clearing his throat to remove the lingering lump of sleep.

 

He doesn’t know the protocol of feeding a sea creature like the mer, and the only people qualified for that are sleeping, or have yet to arrive for their volunteer shift.

 

Groaning like he is eighty-odd and not twenty-six as he gets to his feet, Minho braces himself for a return of the mer’s screeching because he can see the panic already setting in on the mer’s face.

 

So, he hopes that what he’s about to gesture isn’t about to cause a traumatic response, but it’s the only successful gesture he’s got.

 

Motioning for the mer to stay where he is, and not to go to the surface of the tank, Minho waits and groans at the frantic shaking of the mer’s head.

 

So, Minho tries to explain the best way that he can of his intentions this time.

 

“Hungry?” Minho questions, rubbing at his stomach as a toddler would, making his gesture slow and clear to read.

 

The mer’s gaze drops to his hand movements, head tilting in the way that Minho is coming to determine as his ‘huh?’ response to whatever Minho does.

 

Minho then moves his hand to his mouth, pointing at it, before repeating the cycle again – stomach rub, pointing at his mouth.

 

It takes three cycles of this poor game of charades before the mer’s expression shifts, understanding lighting his eyes as his posture straightens.

 

And then knocks Minho on his figurative ass by copying his movements and nods at the end of it.

 

Minho can’t help but take a step to the tank in his amazement, very aware that he is gawping up at the mer who is beginning to grin at him.

 

“You’re hungry?” Minho checks, once more making the gestures, and nods his head to confirm it.

 

This time, the mer just nods his head, further knocking Minho with shock.

 

Needing to signal that he will return this time, Minho slowly peels off the blanket, his movements once again clearer and slower to read as the mer watches him, and folds the blanket so that it is on top of the pillow.

 

Maintaining eye contact, Minho points behind him, repeats the hunger gestures, and nods.

 

The mer’s smile dims, and the way that the sickening guilt rushes from Minho’s gut and up his throat as the mer looks at the folded blanket is almost enough to send him to his knees.

 

So, Minho points to the blanket, then himself, back to the blanket, and nods. “I’ll be back.”

 

He repeats the actions again, wanting to make sure that the mer is processing it and his intentions.

 

And when he gains a very cautious nod, Minho has to try very hard not to sprint from the tank.

 

He keeps looking back at the tank as he leaves to make sure that the mer is remaining in that spot and not swimming up the surface of the tank, and feels the guilt more at the way the mer is pressed against the glass again, his expression so…so anxious, that Minho’s stride quicken despite himself.

 

He has caused such a response within the mer, and the shame of knowing that he’s caused the creature undue pain – mentally and physically – is sharp enough to rob him of air, his chest tightening as he runs through the clinic once he’s out of the mer’s sight to do so.

 

Minho cannot stand cruelty to animals, so to know that he has accidentally been cruel to the mer?

 

“Wake the fuck up and show me where and how to feed him!” Minho bellows as he loudly enters the residential floor in a hurry.

 

He’s going to do whatever he can to permanently remove the anxious look from the mer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Are you sure that I won’t get pulled in?” Minho checks, glancing down at where the trio are bundled up below in their sleepwear, watching Minho trek along the catwalk towards the end tank with a bucket of fish and a claw-like tool to help him throw in the fish without getting his scent on it because apparently that is a health and safety guideline for both human and mer.

 

“I mean, there is a slight chance he could, but I doubt it?” Jeongin calls back. “It would be a bit anti-climactic for him to eat you when all he has done is demand for you to be in his sight?”

 

Minho eyes the huge tank as he gets closer to the edge of the catwalk that is exposed for this purpose.

 

“If it helps, he hasn’t moved?” Felix calls this time, attempting to reassure Minho that he’s not about to get dragged into the huge-ass tank that technically houses a predator.

 

Even if said predator has statistics in its corner of not being a predator towards humans, it’s still a daunting thing to approach the end of the catwalk, bucket of food in hand, knowing that the mer has a questionable, unanswerable, fixation on him.

 

Setting the bucket down, Minho eyes the surface of the water, the watery blob-form of the mer that is remaining true to their charade-agreement, and heaves out a nervous exhale as he uses the tool in his other hand to grab a fish and then throws it towards the water.

 

He’s honestly expecting for the mer to surge up to the surface the second that the fish splashes into the water, but his expectations are once again proven wrong when the mer doesn’t move, as confirmed by the spectators below.

 

“He’s just watching the fish sink?” Jeongin states, just as confused as the rest of them, as Minho leans against the railing to look down at the front of the tank to see that the mer is indeed just watching the fish’s descent instead of actually getting it.

 

“It…it can’t be because I told him to stay, right?” Minho calls hesitantly, drawing Felix’s and Seungmin’s attention whilst Jeongin continues to monitor the mer. “Surely not, right?”

 

“I mean…” Seungmin trails off, gesturing to his face and his shoulders, “I don’t think he got sunburnt for fun.”

 

“But, why would he just stay?” Minho groans out, confused and frustrated.

 

“Only one way to find out, come down and tell him to follow you?” Felix suggests, sounding as unsure as Minho finds the likelihood of that working.

 

But, what else has he got to fucking lose?

 

Once he’s back in front of the tank, the mer looks from where the fish is now resting in its new sandy grave, and gives Minho a smile.

 

Which, of course, makes the three behind him react in various ways, the common being their lungs forgetting how to function as choked coughs rip from their chests.

 

“What?!” Minho hisses at them with a quick look over his shoulder, his cheeks burning as if he has been caught doing something when all he’s done is just walked closer to the tank.

 

“He smiled,” Jeongin states, as if Minho failed to miss it himself. “Mers don’t just…smile at humans.”

 

“Well, no mer we’ve helped has smiled at us,” Seungmin corrects the youngest, making Jeongin roll his eyes.

 

Felix, however, is still mute with shock as he continues to stare at Minho and the mer.

 

“What kind of help are you three?” Minho grumbles, shoulders tight from the attention, as he looks back to the mer.

 

“The supportive type, now try and get him to eat or we’re never going to be able to help him get healthy,” Seungmin retorts blithely, the only one out of the trio seemingly at ease.

 

Ignoring the peanut gallery at his back, Minho points to the sandy grave of the fish, and the mer’s attention shifts to look at it too, before looking back at Minho with another head tilt.

 

Glad that his back is to the trio, he mimes chewing whilst still pointing at the fish.

 

Immediately, the mer pulls an expression that is one hundred percent disgusted, causing Minho to whirl at the three as he exclaims, “do they not eat fish?!”

 

“They do? Or, the ones before him did, at least?” Felix mutters, the three of them confused again.

 

“Maybe it was a dodgy fish?” Seungmin suggests, though his expression doubts it.

 

“It looked and smelt fine,” Jeongin confirms the doubt, frowning as he studies the mer behind Minho. “Try again? If he responds the same, we’ll have to try fresh-fresh fish instead.”

 

Glancing at the mer, he’s surprised to notice that this time he has taken an interest in the other humans with Minho, his gaze flickering from one to the other before falling on Minho.

 

Minho is going to regret it, but he points to the top of the tank, and doesn’t wait to see if the mer comprehends what he means as he hurries back to the stairs of the catwalk and returns to the bucket he left behind.

 

He doesn’t need the surprised calls from below to tell him because he can see the mer’s head bob up at the surface, his eyes above level.

 

Picking up the claw tool and grabbing another fish (he may have looked at the fishes for the best-looking one just for extra hope), he doesn’t throw the fish this time, and instead lets it drop as close as he dares extend it towards the mer before quickly pulling his arm in.

 

The mer’s head disappears for a few seconds, only to reappear with the fish in his hands, his eyes rounded and wide as he stares up at Minho.

 

A soft sound comes from the mer’s mouth, not quite a chirp, but something similar.

 

Clueless to what the mer is trying to communicate, Minho tries to get him to eat instead since that fact matters more.

 

“Eat,” he tells the mer, pointing at the fish and then miming chewing.

 

The mer looks at the fish in his hands, almost inspecting it as he turns it this way and that.

 

Minho keeps quiet, not wanting to distract the mer from determining if the fish is decent or not.

 

Only to yell out a startled, grossed-out, “what the fuck?!”

 

The mer blinks up at him, uncaring of the guts and blood spilling down his hands and into the water, as he continues to offer half of the fish up to Minho.

 

Nausea rushing through him like a crack of a whip against his stomach, Minho tries hard not to recoil, and manages to gather the patience of a saint as he says politely, “I’m not hungry.”

 

Which, of course, the mer doesn’t understand, and continues to blink up at Minho, another soft sound leaving his lips.

 

Pointing at the offered half of the fish, Minho wills down the bile, and then points at the mer. “You eat.”

 

The mer frowns, looking at the fish in his hands, then looks at Minho, his mouth opening as he mimics Minho’s earlier chewing action.

 

Hopeful that they’re getting to be on the same page of understanding each other, Minho nods and reaffirms it as he points at the mer again. “You eat.”

 

Without taking his gaze off Minho, the mer lifts one-half of the fish to his mouth, slowly, as if he’s expecting Minho to tell him no.

 

So, Minho keeps nodding, and doesn’t dare breathe when the mer bites down on the ripped part of the fish, his teeth easily sinking into the meat and organs.

 

Thank fuck he hasn’t had anything to eat or drink, because his gut is rolling as he politely watches the mer chew.

 

But, instead of swallowing, the mer carefully spits the mushy remains of his mouthful into the hand that is no longer holding the other half of the fish and lifts his arm from the water towards Minho.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Minho can’t help but let out, completely flabbergasted by the mer’s behaviour and thought process.

 

The mer tilts his head in the way that Minho has dubbed and understands as his ‘confused’ expression, and lets out a long groan as he squats so that he’s semi-closer to the mer’s level.

 

Pointing at the offered…mush…Minho points to his own mouth, and shakes his head.

 

Immediately, the mer frowns, his arm dropping slightly.

 

Getting somewhere, Minho continues to try to explain what he wants the mer to do as he gestures the mush to the mer, mimes chewing it, and then rubs his stomach for added clarification that he wants the mer to eat it.

 

He does the cycle again, studying the mer’s expression for comprehension clues, and wonders how the fuck he can make this simpler for the mer to understand when the mer shoves the mush into his mouth and swallows, rendering Minho speechless.

 

For two seconds.

 

And then the relief forces him to shout out, grinning proudly at the mer, who is now back to gazing up at Minho with rounded, wide, eyes again.

 

“Good! Good!” Minho praises him, gesturing back at the fish. “More.”

 

Maybe it’s his tone, or how animated he is suddenly, but the mer all but rams the fish into his mouth, his jaw shifting in a way that allows it to fit the entire thing, chews madly (thankfully with his mouth shut), and then swallows just as quickly, before doing the same with the other half.

 

He finishes the entire fish within seconds, and Minho is so busy trying to process the fact that mer jaws seemingly unhinge depending on how big their meal is that when the mer lifts his hand out of the water it takes him a few delayed seconds to understand.

 

And when he does, he jerks back to standing, and grabs another fish for the mer.

 

This time, he places it close as he dares to the mer’s hand, letting go before the mer can reach up for the fish, or tool.

 

The mer devours this fish underwater this time, but the blood that oozes to the top indicates the fast devouring before his head bops up again.

 

And so, Minho follows into a little rhythm of feeding the mer, waiting for the mer to return to the surface, and repeat.

 

“Should I be worried about overfeeding him if he hasn’t eaten in three days?” Minho calls down, not daring to look from the surface and break the rhythm they have going on.

 

“Feed him one more, we don’t want him to gorge and then be sick as a result!” Jeongin answers back.

 

“He must be a shy eater because he has his back to us, which is new too,” Minho hears Seungmin's comment, and Felix’s hum of agreement.

 

Minho gives the mer one more fish, and whilst the mer is under, he grabs the bucket and takes a step back from the edge.

 

When the mer returns, he notices Minho’s change in position immediately, his gaze flicking from the bucket to Minho’s face.

 

The mer makes a sound, his head tilting, as he looks up at Minho, and Minho shakes his head, offering an apologetic smile as he says, “later.”

 

The mer blinks at him, and when Minho doesn’t continue with their previous routine, he seems to understand because a pout forms on his lips, making Minho amused at the sight.

 

He gently taps the bottom of the tool against the catwalk floor to get the mer’s attention again, and when he does, he gestures to behind him with it, turning his body so to confirm his departure, bracing for sounds of objection.

 

The mer surprises him by lifting his hand out of the water and points down, a sound leaving his lips, as he repeats the gesture.

 

Now it is Minho’s turn to try and understand hand gestures, and he has two ideas that shouldn’t make sense but in the grand context of how the mer regards him, does – the mer is trying to tell him that he will leave the surface of the tank, or he’s telling Minho to go to the bottom of the tank.

 

Minho decides to get clarification as he points with his tool over the railing and down towards the ground, watching the mer’s reaction, before pointing the tool at himself, and then back at the ground.

 

The beaming smile that erupts over the mer’s face is a clear enough answer, and Minho sighs, not even surprised.

 

“Fine, I’ll be back there,” he tells the mer, making sure he can see Minho’s nod, before turning his back to the mer to walk the length of the catwalk to the stairs.

 

The trio meet him at the stairs, Felix taking the claw tool and bucket of fish from him as he says, “you’re going to need a sleeping bag, huh?”

 

“Someone has to give up their airbed because if I have to sit and sleep in front of that tank for the duration of his recovery it is the least you can do,” Minho retorts tiredly, his body still aching from last night’s broken sleep.

 

“True,” Jeongin says, and looks directly at Seungmin, “yours is the biggest.”

 

Seungmin raises an eyebrow at the statement. “And?”

 

“So it makes sense to give it to Minho since he is the second tallest?”

 

“Er, no? You and Lix are the short-arses, you both should share,” Seungmin retorts with a laugh.

 

“I cannot handle him in sleep, and he knows it,” Jeongin says completely unapologetically, causing Felix to playfully wink at him as he turns to leave to return the leftover fish and equipment to the storeroom outside, leaving Minho to deal with the two.

 

“You say it like I love skinship,” Seungmin drawls, unimpressed with his friend’s retort.

 

“You both are saying this as if you have a choice – do I need to remind you of how we all woke up this morning?” Minho deadpans, smirking at the pained expression both males gain. “Exactly.”

 

In the end, it’s Jeongin’s airbed that Minho gets, much to Felix’s joy and Jeongin’s put-upon pain.

 

But the fact that he is setting up a mini residential area in front of the tank, in a room that has no privacy because of how expansive and open it is, is too much for him.

 

The volunteers look rightfully bemused when they notice him coming and going with sofa pillows and Jeongin’s blankets.

 

Thankfully, the other tanks in the building are empty. It means he can be isolated at the very end.

 

Which is also a bad thing, because what the fuck is he supposed to do with the mer?

 

Glancing at the creature in question to see that he is curled up and appears to be sleeping off his meal, his face turned towards the glass, Minho flops back onto the airbed, and stares up at the ceiling for answers.

 

They may have gained a little step forward, but he’s still completely lost.

 

Hopefully, now that they’re at the start of his recovery, the mer may ease off needing Minho’s company as a supportive crutch.

 

But…Minho’s gut feeling doubts it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As it turns out, there is a lot of downtime for rehabilitating a sea creature.

 

Which, you know, can be fine for those that actually have the knowledge and a routine of keeping the centre up and functioning to standards, but for Minho?

 

Whenever he has downtime, he’s diving.

 

He can’t just up and leave, the mer has already had another screeching outcry when he woke up from his earlier post-meal nap whilst Minho had used the chance to shower.

 

Which, again, only reinforced how dependant the mer is on Minho’s visible company because the less stressed the mer is, the faster he’s going to recover and heal from lingering up at the surface for two days.

 

But, knowing all of this doesn’t make the situation any less confusing, in fact, it just continues to throw them all into a continuous loop of confusion.

 

“If I have to sit here, staring at him, for days, I will go mad,” Minho states from his current position of being flopped on his back on his make-shift bed in front of the tank with Jeongin for company since the male is monitoring the mer’s condition now that he’s digested his meal.

 

“Now isn’t a bad time to pick up a hobby, or read a book,” Jeongin comments ‘helpfully’ from the bottom of the mattress where Minho’s feet are, the scratching of his pen against the paper as he makes notes.

 

Minho lightly kicks at the younger’s back. “Give me a job to do.”

 

“You’re complaining about the one you’re currently doing?!” Jeongin points out with a laugh.

 

“This isn’t a job; this is like watching paint dry.”

 

“Ever thought of observing him as a way to pass the time instead of passively watching him?” Jeongin states, making Minho lift his head from his pillow to look at the male’s side profile. “You may be able to see behaviours that we can’t because of his reservation to be animated with us.”

 

“I haven’t got the vocabulary to monitor or describe the health and recovery of an aquatic creature,” Minho reminds him of their very different interests and professions.

 

“Not a bad start,” Jeongin teases, glancing at him from his notepad. “But you don’t need to sound like an academic journal to share your opinion.”

 

“I think my academic opinion on this is simple – no fucking clue why he’s interested and fixated on me, the end.”

 

Jeongin hums, his pen now lightly thumping against the pad of paper, as he looks to the tank again. “You know when you’re out diving, you learn to read the behaviour of animals, right?”

 

Minho grunts in answer as he sits up so that his elbows are bracing his weight. “I mean, it’s not like I was officially taught, only what my folks drilled into my head, and what I’ve assumed over the years.”

 

“You still have the deduction skills to determine hostile from passive, so use those now to tell me about his recent behaviour.”

 

Minho looks at the tank to find that the mer is idly watching them too, his tail coiled so that he’s almost sitting how a snake would do so, but his expression is open with curiosity.

 

“He looks…curious?” Minho guesses, glancing at Jeongin to see him nod in agreement. “Which doesn’t answer the whys of such.”

 

“So use his past behaviour, and what you know and have seen from being in the ocean, to answer those whys,” Jeongin says as he begins to stand, leaving Minho to stare up at him, baffled.

 

“Why does this sound like you’ve just given me homework?” Minho declares, sitting up properly.

 

“Because I have,” Jeongin grins down at him, moving to leave. “We have a theory of why he’s behaving so, but I’m not sharing it because it’s pretty obvious, and you have a smart brain.”

 

“We?” Minho repeats after Jeongin’s retreating back as the younger leaves him, and doesn’t get much of a response other than a tinkling laugh.

 

Glancing at the tank to notice that the mer was also watching Jeongin leave before smiling at Minho once he notices his attention, Minho can’t believe that the trio have a theory and are leaving him in the dark when he should know it.

 

He’s the one sitting here, after all!

 

“Fine, let’s deduct some fucking sense, then,” Minho grumbles to himself, shifting so that he’s sitting facing the tank.

 

The mer just continues to watch Minho, apparently content enough with that instead of, you know, swimming or whatever mers do for leisure, but Minho still feels awkward to be sat here.

 

Well… let’s begin there – the lack of swimming.

 

Whenever he has noticed mers whilst diving they’re always swimming. In fact, he doesn’t really recall ever noticing a mer be stationary because…wouldn’t they just sink?

 

The mer’s tail is coiled up on the sandy bottom of the tank, so he is correct that if a mer is stationary they just sink.

 

Okay, but why?

 

Surely, the only time they ‘rest’ is when they’re sleeping, right? And even then, do they have a deep sleep? Because, in order to breathe…don’t they need water to be moving over the gills he can see on the mer’s ribcage? That’s what fish do, right?

 

See, this is why he shouldn’t be trying to make sense of this, he only knows the bare minimum about how aquatic animals work.

 

Now that he’s looking at the mer’s body, watching the shallow movement of his breathing, maybe mers can be stationary without risking drowning?

 

Okay, so why would a mer be stationary?

 

Well, the tank itself is big and deep, and has stones and rockeries with the bottom layered in sand to mimic the ocean floor, but there is also a huge pane of glass, so Minho can see why the mer is reluctant to engage in any leisure-like behaviour.

 

And the mer is probably still exhausted from keeping himself up at the surface for two days, so really, this lack of movement from the creature makes sense.

 

Which brings Minho back to the biggest ‘why’ – the fact that the mer remained in the spot Minho last saw him for two whole days.

 

Mers are well-known for their avoidance of anything to do with the surface, a learnt adaption of instinct, or maybe even taught by their parents, what does Minho know, really? But, even though he’s seen mers, the most he’s seen at a time are three-four and this has always been at the deeper depths of his dives. He has seen lone mers, but not often, it’s always been a distant group passing by out of the corner of his peripherals.

 

Sharks are solitary animals, dolphins and seals are social, so maybe mers sit in the middle? They can function in groups but also alone? Maybe this mer is one of those loners? Because if he was part of a pod, wouldn’t members of it try to get him to return to where they live after the first day of being absent?

 

Is that why the mer approached Minho like he did? Loneliness? Is it difficult for mers to integrate into groups if they’re not born into them? Maybe that was one of the bigger reasons why the majority of captive mers killed each other, as well as the flight-fight instinct brought on by the trauma and stress of being captured?

 

If Minho goes with that train of speculation of the mer being lonely and hesitant to approach his own kind…it starts to make sense why the mer is so fixated on Minho.

 

The mer swam with him – opposite him, but he still remained close to Minho – and also circled him in a manner that was easy to assume to be threatening, but considering the lack of aggression and the lack of attack to follow it, maybe the mer was just engaging….in play?

 

Minho scoffs quietly to himself. Play? Really? This mer saw Minho as a fitting playmate in his full diving gear?

 

But, he has seen other creatures initiate play. Seals are mischievous as fuck when they’re in a playful mood, he’s had to defend his air tank one too many times from one. He’s watched schools of fish move in a way that suggests playfulness with each other, so it’s not a far reach, really, to think that the mer was just looking for something to play with.

 

And if the mer was trying to coax Minho into playing with him, then the bribery of his tail scales begins to make sense too.

 

Humans take from the oceans all the time, maybe the mer assumed that in order for him to convince Minho – a human – to play with him was to give him something that he could use on land?

 

And if he’s remembering correctly, there was a trend a few years back during the height of mer popularity and interest where beaches were scoured for mer scales that had washed ashore to be repurposed in the form of trinkets.

 

How the mer would know such would indicate further intellect amongst their species to pass on such knowledge regarding humans and their behaviours, which, again, makes perfect sense if Minho stops limiting himself to only regarding the mer in simple means.

 

Dolphins, orcas, sharks, they’re all highly intelligent, so a mer should be too, if not, more.

 

Which means that when Minho didn’t return after gesturing that he would, the mer understood the rejection, but persisted anyway.

 

Swallowing around the ever-present sticky lump of guilt in the back of his throat, Minho forces himself to meet the mer’s gaze.

 

And stops trying to read, and just looks instead.

 

The mer blinks back at him, his expression open as always.

 

And Minho thinks he sees it beneath the curiosity.

 

He can see it in the way the mer’s gaze is unflinching, his posture sure.

 

Despite his skin being covered in sunburn, the still off-colour to the skin of his torso, and the heaviness under his eyes from prolonged exhaustion, the mer doesn’t radiate it.

 

He radiates how comfortable he is in a situation that he – technically – shouldn’t be.

 

And that’s because, somehow, despite Minho’s accidental cruelty, the mer decided to trust him.

 

He decided it before he approached Minho, maintained it when Minho didn’t respond welcomingly, and clung to it throughout the two days that he spent waiting for Minho to return.

 

It’s also why he reacts so severely when Minho is out of sight.

 

Somehow, Minho has the favour and trust of a lonely mer.

 

And he has no fucking clue what to do with it.

 

He’s not educated in the way that the trio are, he doesn’t know the first thing about how to engage with mers, or how to read their patterns and cues.

 

However…he does understand loneliness. It’s practically his best friend.

 

Minho keeps to himself to prevent himself from being hurt or misunderstood due to his dry sense of humour, because if he lets people in, they end up leaving – even if one of them is still technically close, Felix did leave Minho behind too. He’s aware that the way he lives isn’t healthy, to have the mindset he has towards new people limits him a lot, but it is how he lives, and he can see it so clearly in the mer now that he’s realised it.

 

It's hard to make friends - even without Minho’s trust issues - it is difficult to make friends when you reach a certain age that can impact your chances of opportunities.

 

Minho works in a pub, but the majority of the customers visit not for him, but to engage with their own pools of friends, to distract from reality with pint after pint, or to feed a vice that no longer is a vice but a controller. Even when he has labourer work, the other staff there are just there to work and complete the project, and not to foster new friendships.

 

He can’t help but wonder if the mer relates, if he is of an age amongst mers that has resulted in him having a difficult time in befriending his own kind?

 

Then again, how old is the mer?

 

His face looks young, around their age, but how fast or slow do mers mature?

 

Has the mer been alone for years?

 

Or has it only been a short while?

 

Not quite sure of how long he’s just been sitting here, silently staring at the mer who has been returning the favour, Minho wants to try something.

 

So, with stiff hips from sitting for so long on an airbed, he rises to his feet and approaches the tank, observing the mer’s response all the while.

 

He notices the subtle way the mer’s tail seems to relax, which in turn makes his abdominal flex as his torso seems to curl close to the glass, and the sharp awareness in the male’s gaze, all makes Minho feel stupid for ever limiting the mer to just a basic animal conscious.

 

Due to the slight height variation of the tank’s placement, Minho has to extend his hand a bit higher up than he would do if they were on the same flat surface, but once he presses his hand to the cold glass, the mer does too.

 

Swallowing at the visible differences in their hands, Minho looks from their hands to meet the mer’s gaze, feeling his neck burn at the weight of the male’s questioning gaze.

 

Because that is what it is. He’s beginning to read the mer instead of trying to understand how to read him.

 

The mer is, and has been, allowing Minho to read him all of this time, but he’s just never truly looked at the mer.

 

And he wants to mend what he’s been accidentally damaging due to his ignorance.

 

With his free hand, Minho points to the biggest sunburn on the mer’s shoulder, waits until the mer glances at himself to where Minho is pointing, waits until the mer looks back at him, before making the best painful expression he can muster before hopefully conveying his best questioning look.

 

The mer points to his burn, and Minho nods, once again twisting his expression into a painful one.

 

The mer shakes his head as he lifts his arm high and moves it so that his shoulder is forced to move too.

 

He can’t read any hints of pain in the mer’s expression, or body, so he just nods once the mer stops demonstrating.

 

What else can he check for that may help the trio with managing the mer’s recovery?

 

Glancing down at the heavy-looking tail, he wonders if it is possible for a mer to have a sprained tail, or fin, from overworking it for two consistent days.

 

The mer’s tail begins to uncoil fully, forcing him higher up the glass as he’s forced to use it instead of being perched on it on the sandy tank floor.

 

Minho can’t see any obvious clues of stiffness, but then again, the mer is only wading in one spot.

 

Deciding to go for it, Minho pats his own hips, since they both have that, and uses one of the mer’s questioning head tilts against him.

 

The mer copies him with his hands on his hips, above where skin transitions into scales, his head tilted too as he frowns in confusion.

 

Since his hips are still tight from sitting in one prolonged spot, Minho slowly rotates his hips to ease the stiffness out and also to see if the mer has any stiffness too.

 

And when the mer starts to slowly spin as he copies Minho, Minho can’t help but laugh at his late realisation that such action would make the mer move completely differently than him.

 

However, instead of being further confused, the mer is simply smiling down at Minho once he’s rotated to be facing Minho again.

 

“Okay, so maybe you’re just tired, huh?” Minho murmurs, noting the way the mer’s gaze drops to his lips, frown pinching between his day eyebrows.

 

Not for the first time does Minho wish that the communication barrier between them was easier to climb. Only so far can deduction and reading skills with gestures take you.

 

Then the mer surprises Minho by pointing up at the surface of the tank.

 

Considering that this is only the second time the mer has directly asked for something, Minho isn’t about to stand here and question what when it would be faster and easier to just go back up on the catwalk.

 

He moves fast, and as he approaches the end of the catwalk, the mer’s bobbing head is already there.

 

Now that he is up here, though, Minho feels a little ridiculous because maybe the mer just wanted more food and this is the only way he knew how to ask for it and by doing so Minho has just gotten the poor mer’s hopes up for more food.

 

“Sorry, no more fish until the bosses say so,” he tries to convey by using the earlier feeding gestures and shaking his head.

 

The mer, surprisingly, shakes his head too, dismissing it as he lightly pats the surface of the water with a palm.

 

Trepidation fills Minho at the gesture, at the hopeful look in the mer’s gaze.

 

Is it wise for him to get into the tank of a sea creature that is supposed to be recovering?

 

No.

 

Is it wise for him to ignore the smallest chance that he may have read this entire thing wrong and the mer is just waiting to get revenge on Minho?

 

Also, no.

 

However…Minho’s gut feeling from the early hours of this morning is back.

 

He had been right in his gut feeling that he is a crutch-of-sorts for the mer – the mer trusts him.

 

But…does that mean Minho trusts him?

 

The mer is, after all, a mer. He’s bigger, stronger, than Minho, and has the full advantage within water. Minho is only speculating his own impression of the mer’s behaviour, which could be completely incorrect.

 

He knows the trio will agree with him that there are too many unknown variables to entertain the mer’s request of getting into the tank, as well as the glaringly obvious health and safety violation for both of them.

 

And yet…

 

He can hold his breath longer than the average person, and he knows how to swim.

 

Squinting down at the mer that just pats lightly at the water, his gaze hopeful and encouraging, Minho can’t quite believe that he – he – is legitimately considering getting in the tank – partially.

 

Just because he can hold his breath and swim well doesn’t mean he’s going to exercise both. He’s just…planning exit strategies if this entire situation goes belly up.

 

“I can’t believe that I’m doing this,” he huffs under his breath as he sits down so that he can untie his boots and take off his socks, rolling them into balls that he then places inside the boots as he sets them aside near the railing.

 

The mer looks up at him, no longer patting the water, but clearly waiting for an actual answer from Minho.

 

Waving his hand for the mer to scoot further away from him and the edge of the catwalk, he doesn’t shift closer until the mer confusedly pushes himself back a few paces.

 

And when Minho shuffles to the edge of the catwalk, he jerks back from the mer’s excited warble and surge towards him.

 

Shaking his head, and willing his heart to get out of his throat, Minho points back to where the mer had been. “Distance, first.”

 

The mer pouts, but pushes himself back from Minho, the pout falling into a beaming smile as Minho shuffles closer to the edge again.

 

Checking to make sure that the mer isn’t going to surge towards him again, and a courteous check of his toes to make sure he’s not going to add sock fluff to the poor mer’s temporary home, Minho gingerly eases his feet over the metal edge.

 

The height of the catwalk to the surface of the tank becomes clear because his feet are nowhere near to grazing the water.

 

“Shit,” Minho murmurs, leaning as much as he dares to peek to see if by shuffling himself further off the edge if it will get his toes any closer to the water, and stiffens helplessly at the way the water gently ripples to him.

 

Calmer, this time, the mer’s gaze searches Minho’s as he approaches slowly.

 

Too curious to see what the mer will do despite the obvious safety concerns, Minho stiffly nods his acceptance of the mer’s approach.

 

A gentle sound comes from the mer, his gaze softening, as he continues to smile up at Minho as he comes to where his feet are dangling down.

 

Even though he sees the slow, cautious, reach, Minho still flinches when a wet digit lightly pokes up at the sole of his right foot.

 

Clearing his throat from the anxious lump, Minho tries to relax his body, taking tentative trust from the mer’s cues to do so, as he says, “yeah, they look different.”

 

The mer keeps his fingertip lightly pressed to Minho’s sole, and Minho tries to make the sudden tension in the air lighter as he wriggles his toes, making another sound that he can’t quite read come from the mer as the finger moves to lightly ghost under his toes.

 

Not expecting the light touch, Minho can’t help but jerk his foot back as a peel of laughter follows the ticklish action.

 

“Sorry,” Minho rushes out, another laugh escaping, at noticing the wide-eyed look from the mer, as he eases his foot back down. “Ticklish.”

 

The mer tilts his head, and Minho is too slow to respond as another ticklish touch runs under his toes, causing him to laugh again as he yanks his feet back to the catwalk out of reach.

 

Immediately, the mer argues at the removal of his new discovery, his hands patting the surface emphatically, causing little droplets to splash up in the mer’s face which he ignores.

 

“Don’t act spoiled,” Minho can’t help but laugh, amused by the mer’s behaviour.

 

The mer slaps the water, pout on his lips.

 

With a playful roll of his eyes, Minho eases his feet back over the edge, and chuckles under his breath at the way the mer is already reaching for his feet, both hands this time coming to investigate as the mer’s fingers poke and prod at Minho’s toes.

 

So, Minho wriggles them again, and is unable to stop the small smile from forming as the mer squints at the action, entirely enraptured by their differences.

 

“I guess it makes sense that you’ve never seen feet before, you’ve probably only seen the fake flippers that divers use,” Minho says, despite knowing the mer can’t really respond or possibly understand, but it helps to fill in the air between them.

 

Is it weird that he currently has a mer fiddling with his toes? Yeah. But, is the mer harming him by doing so? No. If Minho can help satisfy a simple curiosity then he’s not going to deny the mer a chance.

 

Even when the mer slyly tickles him again, making Minho laugh, he endures it because the expression on the mer’s face is too honest with how fascinated he’s finding this discovery to be.

 

And when his stomach grumbles with hunger, the sound travels easily, making the mer tilt his head as he stares up at Minho, not arguing this time when Minho shuffles back and dries his toes and soles with his socks.

 

“Hungry,” Minho explains, pointing to his stomach and making the ‘hunger’ gesture from earlier, before shoving his socks on.

 

The mer frowns, and Minho pauses with one sock on, bracing himself for the mer’s reaction.

 

And is pleasantly surprised when the mer just sinks so that his eyes are above the water again.

 

The action is…endearing? That is the only word that springs to his mind, and Minho can’t help but find it endearing that while the mer may be displeased with the fact that Minho is getting ready to leave his sight again, he understands that Minho has to because he’s hungry, and is just choosing to semi-sulk instead of rattling the centre with his high tone vocalisations.

 

But, he still hesitantly checks with the mer’s comfort of being alone as he takes one step back, saying, “okay?”

 

The mer sinks a little more, the water flirting just a centimetre or so from his lower lash line.

 

Trusting the mer’s lack of reaction, Minho hurries down the catwalk, and stands so that he can see the tank from this end of the building.

 

The mer is right where Minho was expecting to see him, pressed up against the tank, in direct sight of the pathway between the tanks.

 

Minho points to the clinic door, wondering if the mer’s vision is good enough to see this far but giving it shot anyway to further relax the mer’s discomfort of being alone.

 

Seeing no one in the clinic, Minho hurries upstairs to the residential floor where he finds a meeting of sorts taking place with the trio and their volunteers.

 

“Does this require privacy, or can I get food?” Minho checks, lingering in the doorway.

 

“Eat, we’re just finishing up this week’s changes,” Felix assures with a smile, and Minho helps himself to the kitchenette, his hunger gnawing at his stomach now that he is within reach of food.

 

Absently, he listens to the ‘changes’, as he works on a quick brunch, choosing to bite his tongue to question why the trio are cancelling some of the volunteer hours in the clinic and centre even though the mer is present.

 

“We’re still going ahead with our weekly search, so enjoy the time away, see if Ziport’s fisheries may need assistance because it’s coming to that season where their catches attract more than just crabs and fish,” Felix takes over, and Minho can’t help but roll his eyes at the mentioning of the port town closest to the centre.

 

Yiport and Ziport are sibling towns, both with an expansive fishing pedigree. Yiport has become less inclusive over the years, whereas Ziport has continued to market its tourism on its history and fisheries that often host tours of the coast.

 

If this building ever reached its intended destiny of being a mer aquarium it wouldn’t have lasted long in this area because Ziport is the same as its sibling town, in regards to how its many inhabitants view mers.

 

It’s also why Seungmin managed to score this site for as cheap as he did, Felix’s local knowledge of the area fuelling the discount.

 

Shoving the first bite of his meal into his mouth, Minho waits until the volunteers have finished clearing out of the room to address the changes.

 

“Doesn’t it make more sense to have them around? The mer requires a lot more care maintenance, surely?”

 

“In terms of filtration, the system will do most of the work for us, we just have to manually remove the waste that collects at the surface,” Seungmin answers as he joins Minho in the kitchenette, refilling his cup with coffee, before offering to pour some for Minho who nods in thanks, watching as the younger grabs another cup from the rack and pours in the remainder of the coffee.

 

Minho raises an eyebrow, not liking the feeling curling in his gut. “‘Manually remove’?”

 

“With a net, yes,” Seungmin confirms Minho’s gut suspicion. “The last few mers we’ve rehabilitated didn’t go near the surface of the tank, even during feeding, so the safety risk was low for them to grab us as we cleaned up. But, in the case of this mer…”

 

“He trusts me the most, so the likelihood of being dragged in is slim,” Minho unwillingly confirms, and shares that he’s finally up-to-date with them on their ‘theory’ as he continues. “You know, you three could’ve just said that his behaviour came from a place of loneliness.”

 

Felix frowns, and Minho’s confidence in his theory falls along with his stomach.

 

“That is the theory you came up with?” Jeongin asks, mystified. “Loneliness?”

 

Putting aside his plate of food and grabbing the cup of coffee that he feels he will need severely for the next few minutes, he braces himself for the trio’s opinion.

 

“I mean, loneliness can be part of the initial engagement, but the mer’s continued behaviour itself is pretty much identical to pod-like characteristics,” Felix quickly explains, able to read Minho’s mannerisms faster than the other two. “From our observations, and what journals relay about sea mammals, he’s showing pod-like traits to you, even though you’re not a mer.”

 

“Which brings in the plausible theory that he may be lonely, or he’s just simply a curious creature that saw a human all alone and figured he could befriend it. Dolphins are notorious for it,” Jeongin ties up Felix’s explanation as Minho begins to chug the thankfully warm coffee.

 

Minho doesn’t know which theory hits sadder – the mer being lonely, or the mer perceiving Minho to be lonely.

 

“Either way, it’s blatantly obvious that you’re the only human that he is animated with. Felix may have been able to coax him into the net, but that is due to how exhausted the mer was. He’d probably have let poachers snag him, he was that out of it,” Seungmin shares, and Minho forces his mouthful of coffee down and not to spit it back into his cup as he learns more of the initial state the mer had been found in.

 

“Which means that you need to be taught how to clean the tank,” Jeongin finishes up with a grin, trying to cheer up Minho with his lively tone, but Minho’s brain is still fixating on the ‘pod-like traits’ circling his head.

 

He’s seen some variation of pod dynamics whilst diving, usually from a fair distance, but he’s seen enough pods of dolphins to know that the trio’s theory is highly possible.

 

Minho just isn’t sure of that reoccurring ‘why’ because of what happened after he left.

 

The mer stayed in that spot for two days, which deviates massively from the trio’s speculation that the mer sought out Minho because he presumed Minho to be lonely.

 

So, Minho’s theory of the mer seeking him out because the mer was lonely…fits better, overall.

 

Putting his cup beside his plate of food, Minho rolls his neck and lets out a long sigh.

 

“Well, then, it’s time for me to learn how to caretake after a mer.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By the end of the day, Minho is feeling more at ease with the reality of everything.

 

He was shown what to look out for in the tank that could hinder the mer’s health, where to find the tank net and how to dispose of the waste (Minho’s repressed memories of being on his grandparents' fishing boat during peak fishing season came soaring back at the description of what type of waste he may be collecting from the mer which had made his gut roll slightly), and also the meal plan they used with previous mers.

 

In terms of his own routine outside of the basic care needs for the mer, Minho hasn’t got a clue what to do with the spare time that he doesn’t usually have, and even though it has been only one day, he’s already feeling the itch to do something other than sit in front of the tank and absently monitor the mer.

 

And now that it is night, Minho is even more at a loss of what to do with himself as he awkwardly gets himself snug and comfortable on the airbed, watching the shadowy form of the mer as he mimics Minho’s laying position.

 

“That has got to be uncomfortable, what with the sand against his gills,” Minho murmurs to himself, needing the commentary to be out of his head to break up the heavy stillness as the centre settles for the night.

 

Throughout the day, he’s managed to solidify the small collection of gestures with the mer to communicate Minho’s needs that result in him having to leave the mer alone. The mer now understands hunger, how to show via his facial expressions if he is suddenly in pain, if the mer needs Minho’s attention and he’s in front of the tank that tapping against the glass is enough to get his attention (which resulted in becoming a game for too long, but at least the mer learnt how else to get Minho’s attention without threatening his eardrums), and that if Minho points up, to his right, or behind him, that he is going to one of three places – catwalk, outside, and clinic, which resulted in a sulky pout but a nod of understanding from the mer for the latter two.

 

So, all in all, today was pretty productive even if most of it felt as if he was making shit up as he went.

 

As long as he and the mer are in somewhat of an understanding, then it will make Minho’s role of monitoring his recovery easier.

 

He can only hope that tomorrow is just as productive and that shit doesn’t decide to hit the fan.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Absolutely fucking not.”

 

Minho has been awake for all of ten minutes, and he cannot deal with the trio’s antics this early before his morning coffee.

 

Squinting at the three of them as he cradles the cup close to his mouth as he lightly blows it to cool it down faster so he can get the needed caffeine in his blood, Felix is the one daring enough to try again.

 

“You won’t be alone with him, one of us will be on the catwalk to assist you if you need a quick escape, whilst the others will be watching below,” Felix promises, his current state of severe bed hair and oversized sleepwear not matching the intensity in his deep morning voice. 

 

“Look, I’m all for keeping him company, but weren’t you three stressing the importance of my safety this time yesterday?” Minho reminds them, ignoring the way that Jeongin is blatantly trying to bribe him into acceptance with the offered plate of toast he had just been buttering.

 

“That was before we did a new safety check,” Seungmin pipes up from where he’s sitting at the sofas, yawning.

 

“You could teach him boundary gestures, he is a fast learner,” Jeongin offers as Minho takes the plate to stop the youngest from waving it at him.

 

“What are you three honestly expecting to see?” Minho questions, not wanting to share how yesterday he had sort-of initiated some physical stimulation with the mer…even if it came as a result of the mer learning that Minho has ticklish feet.

 

Or how the mer blatantly wanted Minho in the tank with how he had patted the water.

 

“More pod-like behaviour, honestly,” Jeongin is the one to answer as he goes back to the toaster to continue making breakfast for them. “The stimulation will help the time pass faster for him. He’s extremely limited, even though he is in our biggest tank, and unlike our previous cases, neither us or the mers had that initial bond of trust to warrant this form of stimulation.”

 

Putting the plate of toast down on the counter behind him, and carefully holding his cup of coffee with both hands again, Minho carefully enunciates, “I’m human.”

 

“And?” the trio echo.

 

“And, what the fuck do you think me being in the tank with him will realistically achieve? I can’t swim like him, I haven’t got the communication skills to play with him, so really, all I would be doing is getting in his way.”

 

“Look, all signs from him are pointing that he will enjoy you being in the tank, regardless if you’re both just treading water,” Seungmin states with a shrug.

 

“And weren’t you complaining last night over dinner that you’re not used to being idle? This way you still get a workout!” Jeongin chimes in as the toast pops up so he can’t see the minor glare Minho aims at his side profile.

 

Placing his cup next to the plate of toast, Minho says, “fine. I’ll suit up and prove you three wrong – he’s probably just too curious by my humanness and will learn fast that I can’t do shit with him other than take up space.”

 

“And we’ll scoop you out if that unlikely boredom manifests with him trying to kick you out of the tank,” Seungmin promises around a yawn.

 

“You mean I will scoop him out, you haven’t got any core strength,” Jeongin teases as he brings Felix the plate of toast, giggling as he avoids the lazy kick his way from Seungmin.

 

“Where are you going?” Felix calls, noticing Minho going towards the coat hooks. “Your toast will get cold!”

 

“No offence, but I’ll feel more at ease using my equipment and I want to get this settled as soon as possible,” Minho says, grabbing the closest coat to protect him from the coldness coming in off the ocean first thing in the morning.

 

Leaving Jeongin to claim his plate of toast, Minho hurries out of the centre and down towards the dock for his boat.

 

Is he feeling massively apprehensive about getting into the tank? Obviously. Yesterday, it was all fair and good for him to theorise how he would act in the tank if the mer were to pull him in, but to plan to get in it?

 

It’s a big mental jump to go from – ‘okay, maybe this creature won’t harm me, and to, okay, I’m trusting this creature to not harm me’.

 

Minho doesn’t trust, or well…struggles to.

 

Maybe that is why he’s fighting this so hard - allowing himself to be vulnerable with the mer?

 

Minho doesn’t know if he actually can.

 

Back in the centre, Minho has to wait until the trio are ready for him to even begin his usual pre-diving routine.

 

Once the trio are organised – Seungmin and Felix acting as lookouts below whilst Jeongin will remain on the catwalk to assist with Minho climbing up the rollable rope ladder that hooks on the end of the walkway, Minho calms his building nerves, and gets himself suited up.

 

“I think the air tank may be overkill, but we are playing it safe,” Jeongin comments from behind Minho as they climb up the metal stairs to the catwalk.

 

“If he doesn’t a) drown me, b) rip me apart, or c) ignore me, then we can worry about whether or not my life support is a hindrance or not to your observational findings,” Minho retorts petulantly, making the younger huff a laugh, long used to Minho’s tongue.

 

But, the closer they get to the end of the catwalk, the more his gut is churning.

 

And when the mer’s head bobs up from above the surface as they arrive (he has surprisingly dealt with Minho’s prolonged absence well), the pout on his lips (okay, so he was sulking the entire time) slips as his gaze rakes up Minho’s body before getting distracted by Jeongin fixing the rolled-up ladder to the metal hoops at the end of the catwalk and leaves it as that for Minho to unroll when he is ready.

 

“All yours,” Jeongin says with a soft pat against Minho’s back as he takes a step back to give Minho the needed space to manoeuvre himself with the extra weight on his back.

 

He’s not wearing his fins this time because he’d never be able to get his ass down and up out of the tank with them on his feet, but as Minho approaches the very edge, placing a foot on top of the rolled-up rope, he eyes the mer’s response.

 

And isn’t disappointed as the mer eagerly pats the water with rounded eyes, his smile helping alleviate some of Minho’s nerves, but not all of them.

 

Gesturing for the mer to move back, just as he did yesterday, and feeling the burn of Jeongin’s gaze at the back of his head when the mer does so, he lightly kicks for the ladder to unroll and hit the water with a splash.

 

Normally, Minho would just jump into the water or roll backwards, but he doesn’t know if that will activate some type of predator response in the mer that he may not be able to control, so Minho has to gingerly navigate his turning so that he’s holding the side railings as he squats down, his left foot searching for the first rope rung, and then eases himself further until he’s just gripping the edge of the catwalk, his feet not yet touching the water, but the shift in gravity is nerve-wracking enough for him to pause to catch a needed inhale of confidence.

 

Behind him comes more sounds of the water being patted, not aggressively, but softly? Minho would dare say that the sound is almost encouraging, but he hasn’t got eyes at the back of his head so who the fuck knows what the mer is actually doing.

 

Minho chances a glance up at where Jeongin is lingering, notes the neutral look on the younger’s face, and wishes that he never did because his nerves have grown more.

 

When a soft, light, sound comes from the mer himself, Minho squeezes his eyes shut and forces his stiff legs down the ladder, his hands transitioning from metal to rope.

 

When the first touch of the water laps up at his feet, he can’t help the startled jump he makes, which in turn makes the ladder jostle because of how flexible it is.

 

Which means he loses his grip, and before he can even react, he’s fallen backwards into the tank.

 

Instinct kicks in, his legs kicking his weight back to the surface, his lungs locked tight to prevent from inhaling water.

 

Once his head breaches the water does he exhale, and blindly gropes for the mouthpiece of his regulator for his air tank that he didn’t get a chance to place since his initial planned entrance into the water has gone clean out of the window.

 

Mouthpiece in hand, Minho takes slow, deep, calming breaths from his diaphragm to recover, and uses the moment to turn himself around as he treads water, searching for the mer’s head that he hopes is in the last place he saw him be.

 

Relief floods through him at seeing the mer be exactly where he last saw him, but the worried expression on his face makes Minho laugh, his ears burning fast from the embarrassment of having everyone witness his tumble.

 

“You try being graceful on a flimsy rope ladder with extra weight on your back,” he says to the mer.

 

Heart no longer racing, Minho readies himself for the next part as he places the mouthpiece into his mouth and submerges himself below the surface by relaxing his body to sink.

 

It takes a few seconds for him to get used to the muted contrast of being underwater and how his vision is no longer as sharp as it was, but the adjustment is fast, and he is able to monitor the mer mimicking him as he too drops below the surface.

 

Checking his air gauges as muscle memory kicks in, Minho doesn’t know what to do to break the sudden stalemate they seem to be as he maintains the current depth he’s sunk to.

 

Because, contrary to the mer’s behaviour at the surface – as well as in the ocean with him – the mer almost looks wary to approach Minho.

 

So, Minho hopes the mer will understand as he gestures for him to come close, knowing that it will be harder for the mer to read him because his face is covered up so he makes his movements clear and open to read.

 

The mer is slow in his approach, his body language cautious whilst his expression is still hinting at some contained excitement that Minho saw just before he got into the tank.

 

Once the mer is close-ish, Minho is beginning to feel more comfortable being in the tank with him, so he holds up his palm, and waits to see if the mer will connect the action to the gesture they do when Minho is on the other side of the glass.

 

The mer glances at Minho’s palm, then back at Minho’s face, his gaze checking, before he raises his hand and slowly moves it towards Minho’s.

 

The texture of the mer’s palm against Minho’s is softer than he expected it to be despite the scales in the male’s palm, but the mer’s smile reappears as he grins at Minho, his fingers curling so that he’s ensnared Minho’s hand the best he can due to the webbing between his fingers.

 

And when the mer lightly tugs at Minho’s hand, Minho half braces himself for the trust he’s given the mer to be thrown in his face, expecting a violent action to follow, but when the mer only lightly tugs on Minho’s hand again, before pointing down at the bottom of the tank with his other, does Minho chastise himself for the immediate way he began to fear the mer.

 

The mer has literally done nothing for Minho to fear him, he needs to trust the mer more than he is doing.

 

So, Minho points to the bottom too, waits for the mer to nod to confirm that he wants them to go deeper, and nods too, trying to get his hand free.

 

Only, the mer refuses to let go of his hand, a pout forming on the mer’s face as he looks at Minho in confusion.

 

Thankful that his goggles and mouthpiece cover up the majority of his stunned expression, Minho slowly curls his fingers so that he’s returning the handhold, tries hard to not overthink the contact, and tilts his body so that he can kick himself to the bottom all the while with the mer swimming languidly beside him.

 

He doesn’t even want to know how comical it is to see from the other side of the glass – a human trying to swim as gracefully in full dive gear alongside a mer who is bigger and more graceful than Minho.

 

He follows the mer’s trajectory and wonders why now of all times the mer is wanting to explore the rockeries he’s been uninterested in since he was placed in the tank.

 

Once they reach the rockeries, Minho uses that chance to further adjust to the depth by using the mer’s grip on his hand as a visual anchor for him to right his body so that he’s upright once more.

 

The mer leans closer into Minho’s bubble of space, making him tense his grip on the mer, but the mer just seems to be running a curious look over him, his eyes lingering on his mouthpiece and the tank on his back.

 

So, wanting the mer to understand, Minho points to the mer’s gills, and then points to his mouthpiece and tank.

 

Understanding alights the mer’s gaze, and this time Minho is ready for the mer’s closer proximity as he curiously looks at Minho’s profile, moving to either side of Minho to do so.

 

Honestly, the curiosity is becoming an endearing trait of the mer’s, and Minho would laugh if he could at the way the mer is just so…fascinated by the human body.

 

Easing himself so that his tail coils so that he can sit on the rockeries, Minho is left wondering what the fuck the mer expects him to do since, you know, buoyancy is a hindrance underwater, and it is through sheer grit to not inhale water that prevents his surprised exclamation as the mer just pulls him into sitting on the mer’s lap.

 

Or, what Minho presumes to be the mer’s fucking lap because of how long the mer’s tail is even when coiled like this.

 

Flustered, confused, and self-conscious of the peanut gallery at his back, Minho tries to push up before he can even sink close enough onto the mer.

 

The mer frowns, and for the first time, Minho hears him underwater, the vocalisation surprisingly smoother than he’s used to hearing it from above.

 

Minho shakes his head, confused as to why the mer wants him to sit on him, and tries to jerk his hand free.

 

The mer doesn’t relent, and this time Minho freezes as the mer grabs his other hand and pulls him so that Minho is unable to correct the – gentle – force as his knees collide with the hard mass of the mer’s tail.

 

Fully aware of how big his eyes are as he stares at the mer who is more or less the same height as Minho now, Minho tries to think of a gesture to demand an answer.

 

Instead, the mer takes his stunned form for compliance and smiles, pleased with himself.

 

Only, it’s then that Minho takes note of easier it is for him to maintain control of his buoyance without having physically do so.

 

Huh. Did the mer make the connection that the more Minho has to move, the faster he will use up his air supply, even though Minho only gestured the connection?

 

If so, Minho is honestly taken aback by the mer’s intelligence.

 

Now, if only Minho could connect the dots as fast as the mer does.

 

Checking his gauges, Minho relaxes a little more at seeing that he still has plenty of air left, and glances down at the tail his knees are resting on since Minho’s weight isn’t fully against the mer, just hovering as the mer anchors him with the still gentle hold he has on Minho’s hands.

 

So…Minho tentatively takes the mer’s offer with assisting his balance and squeezes the mer’s hands twice in thanks, hoping the mer will understand it.

 

The mer looks to their joint hands, looks to Minho, and then mimics the little squeezes.

 

The shot of endearment that hits him is uncalled for, but understandable, because the longer he’s around the mer, the easier it is getting with just finding the mer to be – unintentionally on his part because it’s not like he’s trying to be – cute.

 

His curiosity, the surprising gentleness towards Minho, and the overall patience this mer has is just…it’s a lot.

 

And, in spite of himself and how he’s always regarded mers, Minho is becoming curious about the mer too.

 

And that realisation is enough to loosen his grip on the mer, causing the mer to make a chirping sound as he tightens his grip on Minho, a look of concern on his face as he studies Minho.

 

Needing a distraction from himself, Minho gestures to the rockeries and tilts his head in the questioning manner they both use.

 

The mer glances at the rockeries, and whilst the mer is distracted to figure out what Minho meant, Minho is forced to notice more details about the mer that he noted but never thought more of.

 

For example, the mer’s hair. The colour is not unusual, just a warm brunette tone, but the way it flows in the water without hindering the mer’s face is baffling because Minho’s own hair is short but the length on the crown of his head is enough to get in his eyes on the few occasions he dives in shallow waters and doesn’t need his full kit on.

 

Or the fact that now he is this up close to the mer, Minho is noticing a pattern of where the mer’s scales present over his upper torso, how they appear thinner in comparison to the scales on his tail, and how the scales seem to be more prominent around the vulnerable areas, such as his gills, chest, neck, wrists, and palms.

 

Focusing on the mer’s palms against his own, Minho wonders if the scales are thinner to allow for presumed flexibility whilst also maintaining some sort of protection?

 

A questioning sound comes from the mer, making Minho painfully aware that he’s just been caught spacing out whilst staring at the mer’s chest since he had been trying to confirm his scaley assumption.

 

The mer, however, shows a new, unexpected, side of him as he winks at Minho.

 

A mer has just fucking winked at him. What the ever-loving fuck?

 

A quick check at his gauges confirms he is indeed not hallucinating, and when he looks back at the mer, the mer is just smiling happily at him, his hold on Minho’s hand ever gentle and grounding.

 

Surely, he didn’t see that correctly. There is no way that a mer knows how to fucking wink.

 

And if the mer knows, then…does…does it mean the same thing it usually does for humans?

 

Oh, fuck his life. The closer he thinks he’s getting to understanding the mer, the mer throws him off kilter.

 

An odd sound reverberates through the tank, making Minho flinch, but the mer just looks passed Minho, his expression losing some of the lightness as a frown mars his face instead.

 

Turning the best that he can with a mer that apparently doesn’t want to explore the new sound, Minho awkwardly tries to see what caused the sound and makes out the distorted heights of Seungmin and Felix.

 

Nervous as to why the duo have tapped – banged? – on the glass for his attention, Minho takes that as his cue to leave to see why, and attempts to point up at the surface with a finger since the mer refuses to let go of his hands.

 

The mer shakes his head, and Minho tries not to panic at the response.

 

Instead, he makes his wriggle attempts clearer for the mer to release one of his hands, which he does so, a bit unwillingly in Minho’s opinion.

 

Rubbing against his stomach and then pointing at the mer’s, before gesturing behind him in the direction of the glass, Minho waits to see if the mer has followed along to what he’s trying to allude to.

 

The mer shakes his head as he rubs his stomach, and again, Minho is trying hard not to panic, to not overthink that this is it, this is where the mer’s behaviour towards him shifts for the worse.

 

Minho shakes his head, and tries again, making it clearer that they both should eat as he gestures to his face this time to drive his inclusion more.

 

And it works, because the mer shifts in an instant, his unhappy frown morphing into an understanding one as his tail effortlessly flicks, propelling him up in an instant.

 

Which means he’s also pulling Minho up, and Minho panics fully this time at the too-fast speed for him to ascend safely, and digs his nails into the mer’s hand.

 

Immediately the mer lets go of him, cradling his hand, rightfully shocked, but Minho waves his hands to try and explain, pointing up at the surface and then slowing his hand that demonstrates them swimming up.

 

The mer sinks until he is level with Minho, his head tilted to clearly let Minho know that he has no clue what he’s trying to communicate, and so Minho presses a hand to his chest, moves his other hand up to the surface as fast as he can, and then uses his entire body to express pain, hunching slightly to get the point clearer.

 

A series of sounds explode from the mer, and unexpectedly, Minho finds the mer pressed around him, his tail seemingly trying to keep Minho stable as his fin flicks fast to maintain their current level, whilst the mer’s hands awkwardly flitter over Minho’s arms and torso.

 

The whole bodily contact from the mer has thrown Minho completely off guard, but it’s the blatant concern radiating from the mer that has Minho flustered.

 

So, he tries to both reassure and explain again – a shake of his head as he presses his hand (which the mer immediately brackets with his own) against his chest, and then points to the surface and makes his hand move fast again before making a more subdued painful gesture.

 

The concentration in the mer’s gaze is a lot, but Minho gives him a minute to process since he hasn’t reacted how he did the first time, giving Minho hope that he’s understanding something.

 

Then, the mer points to the surface, wriggles his hand fast, and then points to his gills with a wince, his head tilting afterwards.

 

Minho nods emphatically, gestures to the surface once more, wriggles his hand slowly, and doesn’t make a painful gesture after it.

 

A loud, short, exclamation comes from the mer, startling Minho because of how close they are, but the mer is nodding rapidly, his hands softly patting Minho’s ribs, before uncurling himself from around Minho.

 

Bemused by the rib petting, but relieved they’ve overcome the communication hump, Minho points to his gauges, calculates how long he has to slowly ascend despite being in the water for a short period, and holds up the number of fingers for it.

 

The mer stares at his fingers, mimicking him again, and Minho nods as he slowly kicks and keeps his buoyance stable for the controlled ascent.

 

As time ticks by, he puts down a finger, all the while the mer is right by his side, following along.

 

Next time, he’ll just free dive and remain at a depth that is less time-consuming for him because he doesn’t want another experience of alarming and hurting the mer’s feelings.

 

Minho gestures for them to wait once they get close enough to the surface, continuing to count down the time for the mer to understand.

 

The mer nods, and repeats his new behaviour of easing the length of his tail around Minho’s hips, basically grabbing Minho’s bobbing weight and keeping him still.

 

Minho doesn’t know what the fuck to do, can feel how hot his fucking face is despite the water, and just…awkwardly pats the mer’s tail in thanks, making the mer smile as he maintains count with Minho’s fingers.

 

Once he curls his last finger down, Minho nods up to the surface, and the mer unwinds his tail from Minho’s hips, and follows along with Minho as they breach the surface.

 

“Need a hand?” Jeongin calls from where he is kneeling at the edge of the catwalk, and Minho jerks from volume since he became used to the muteness of being underwater.

 

“Give me a second,” Minho calls back, the hiss of air escaping from his mouthpiece as it bobs in the water, causing the mer to squint at it, still in close proximity of Minho’s space.

 

“No, leave it,” Minho chastises the mer with a laugh, taking the mouthpiece from the mer’s hand, “it’ll probably knock you sick if you were to inhale it.”

 

The mer blinks at him, and Minho just shakes his head, his energy depleted so soon in the morning.

 

“I’ll be back with your food,” he tells the mer, gesturing towards the ladder, and the mer sinks until he is back to his default surface position – eyes above water level.

 

Dreading the next few seconds because it’s hard enough to haul himself up on his boat with a metal ladder, it’s going to be ten times exhausting hauling himself up this flimsy thing with limbs that are struggling to readapt to gravity despite the short time in the tank.

 

Jeongin ends up hauling him halfway with a laugh escaping him even as Minho gracelessly collapses on him, soaking him.

 

“Invest in better equipment,” Minho whines, struggling to get his feet under him, clinging to Jeongin and the railing whilst doing so.

 

“With the size of your thighs, no wonder you’re struggling to walk.”

 

“You know what, let me fucking crawl instead, I can’t be dealing with your cheek after what’s just happened.”

 

“Hmm, so now are you convinced he sees you as a member of his pod?” Jeongin questions with a smirk as they slowly make their way from the tank.

 

Not knowing how much they could see from either vantage points, Minho keeps his response neutral because he still needs to process it himself.

 

“Just help me get this air tank off me,” is all he answers with, a knowing chuckle leaving Jeongin as he assists anyway.

 

All the while, he can still vividly see the mer’s wink in his mind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ravenous after being in the water, Minho inhales a late breakfast whilst Seungmin prepares the mer’s breakfast for him, which leaves Felix and Jeongin to share their points of views with Minho.

 

“He is clearly aware of the limitations a human has underwater for him to be so at ease with touching you,” Felix remarks, practically giddy from observing such rarity.  “The care management of trying to understand your limitation easily aligns with how dolphin and whale pods react to their young too.”

 

“Oi, do I look like I’m a baby?” Minho retorts, cheeking his bite of food to do so, and getting an eye roll from the two of them for his comment.

 

“Just accept that you’re a part of his pod,” Jeongin chuckles from where the two are lounging on the sofa. “When you fell into the water I expected the mer to help you, his face was so concerned, but he remained at the boundary you set – you wanna share when that became a gesture you two developed?”

 

“You’re making it sound like I’ve been sneaking behind your backs.”

 

“Well, you’ve done something,” Felix points out, not letting Minho off the hook either.

 

“I just sat at the end of the catwalk ‘cause he wanted my attention up there, and I wasn’t going to deny him when he’s not asked for anything,” Minho says simply as he moves to clean up now that he’s finished his food, giving him a brief reprieve from the duo’s attention as his back faces them.

 

“So you taught him the gesture to prevent him from trying to launch up at the catwalk?” Jeongin questions doubtfully over the sound of the running water. “The height from the water to the edge is too far for him, as well as the risk of severely injuring himself from any surging attempts too.”

 

“I think he wanted me in the tank with him, but obviously I wasn’t going to do that, so we compromised – I sat with my legs dangling over the edge,” Minho reveals as fast as he can, trying to ignore how the flush of warmth to his neck is beginning to give him away.

 

The silence behind him isn’t reassuring, so he peeks, and rolls his eyes at the way Felix is gawping at him whilst Jeongin has the smuggest look on his face. “It’s not that serious, guys.”

 

Felix scoffs loudly at that. “How much clearer does the mer need to get for it to sink into your head that he values you?”

 

Pointing a sudsy finger at his childhood friend, Minho says, “he’s only valuing me for the moment, let’s not get too carried away with theories, now.”

 

“Minho, the mer wouldn’t have tried so hard to understand why you didn’t want to breach the surface as fast as possible – you know, since humans don’t belong underwater – if he viewed you as a temporary ‘value’,” Felix argues, his tone slipping from his previous light-hearted teasing to serious. “I get it – having a mer want to befriend you is not your everyday occurrence, but he’s blatantly serious about it. Nothing about his actions determines you’re just a toy, or something, to him.”

 

“And you know this for sure, how?” Minho argues back, turning the tap off as he places the last of his utensils on the draining board to dry and dries his hands. “We’re all making up this pod theory as we go. We know next-to-nothing factually about mers, all we know are theories.”

 

Felix glances at Jeongin, who has steadily begun to look nervous as he watched the two of them. “Give us a min?”

 

Jeongin nods and quickly gets up from the sofa to head for the door. “I’ll be in the clinic.”

 

It’s not often that this happens, for Felix to do what he’s clearly about to begin, but Minho doesn’t stop it from happening because this is how Felix shows his care and love.

 

So, Minho takes Jeongin’s place beside Felix, and settles in for the talk that Felix starts.

 

“Are you aware of what you’re currently doing?” Felix asks quietly, tenderly, not a hint of anger or judgement in him as he faces Minho.

 

Burying the impulse to argue, Minho forces himself to relax as he nods. “Yeah.”

 

“You need to say the words,” Felix coaxes softly, supportively.

 

Meeting Felix’s warm gaze, Minho allows the words to cross his tongue and over his lips.

 

“I’m sabotaging again.”

 

Felix nods, still with no judgement or disappointment, only soft concern and care.

 

Minho looks away from his friend’s supportive gaze, and lets his head drop against the sofa back to stare up at the ceiling panels. “I…I don’t know why I’m fighting it so hard, the proof is there, but yet I’m still coming up with excuses to not believe.”

 

“It’s not that you’re fighting it, it’s…this is different compared to how you responded to Seungmin and Jeongin,” Felix tentatively begins, and Minho hums in soft agreement to that. “Then, you were wary about if they would leave me, so you didn’t want to attach yourself to them. Now…I think you’re overwhelmed by the mer’s reaction to you and you don’t know how to respond because…because you’ve become so used to a routine. An isolating one.”

 

This isn’t the first time that Felix has commented on how Minho lives his life. This has been a reoccurring topic that has cropped up now and again over the years, often when Felix notices Minho’s pattern before he does.

 

“My routine suits me,” Minho says softly, his head lolling to look at Felix again. “But I know it is unhealthy when I get too immersed in it.”

 

And it’s happened before, which is why Felix always steps in to prevent a repeat of history.

 

The last time that Minho got so sucked in by his routine – working six days a week, diving on his only free day, not interacting with anyone that he had to during work, barely getting enough functional rest to do it all, all led to Minho blindly forgetting to refill his air tank properly.

 

Needless to say, that dive still haunts him to this day, and he phoned Felix as soon as he could because he needed his friend to help him wake the fuck up as well as calm him down.

 

So, Minho values Felix’s love and ability to do this with him, and why he never responds defensively when it happens.

 

“If I get attached to the mer, then what?” Minho reveals tightly, finally admitting what has been lingering at the back of his mind. “You know I struggle with our distance, and we’ve been attached to the hip since you were born.”

 

“You’re in the ocean a lot, and you visit that dive site because it’s less populated by mer sightings, so really you can still engage with him,” Felix carefully points out. “This situation is completely unique, so you’re going to have to take a little leap of faith in order to figure it out.”

 

Minho pulls a face at that, making Felix giggle as he gently smacks his arm for it.

 

“I know, I know. But…I do believe that the mer wouldn’t have approached you in the continued manner that he has done if he didn’t factor in the obvious restrictions of a friendship between you two,” Felix continues, and Minho can see his point because he knows that the mer is far intelligent enough to do so. “He’s already learning how to understand your needs underwater, so…trust him? Trust in the outcome he’s already seeing and working to ensure comes true.”

 

“I mean, I’m not sure if the mer has thought that far ahead, but…you’re right, I keep looking at this through the lens of how I do with other humans. I need to be more…open…to how a friendship with a mer – I cannot believe those words have just come out of my mouth – realistically goes.”

 

And despite their different heights and builds, Minho flops into the embrace Felix tugs him into, enjoying his friend’s grounding affection.

 

“It’s normal to get overwhelmed, but don’t let it scare you from him,” Felix whispers as they hug, squeezing his arms that barely wrap around Minho’s broadness.

 

Humming in agreement, Minho returns the squeeze, and lets out a deep, long, exhale.

 

He’s been telling himself to trust the mer.

 

Now it’s time that he actively begins so.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next day, Minho begins his morning differently than yesterday’s after having spent last night’s dinner reformulating the caretaking routine that they had for the mer to include a few days of supervised tank swims to take place first thing in the morning, and then for the tank swims to graduate into unsupervised and to be sporadic to prevent the mer from becoming too bored with the routine.

 

“Morning,” Minho greets thickly, barely awake, as he plants his ass on the catwalk edge, his PJs rolled up to prevent them from becoming damp from water spray as the mer eagerly pats the surface of the water with a small chirp that Minho is going to take as a greeting too.

 

Minho shakes his head, hiding a yawn behind his hand, as he waits for the mer’s hand to still and for a pout to form on his face, before he explains.

 

Patting the catwalk, Minho says, “today, I’ll sit,”, then he points down to where he sleeps, mimics sleeping, and then points to the water, “tomorrow, I’ll swim.”

 

The mer blinks up at him, head tilted.

 

So, Minho tries again.

 

The mer squints up at him, a sound coming from him that sounds as confused as his face is telling Minho.

 

Scrubbing his face to wake himself up faster so that his brain can be fucking useful to help him communicate with the mer, Minho mumbles to himself, “I’m just confusing him, fuck.”

 

Deciding to abandon explaining the new routine and just demonstrate it tomorrow and hope that the mer connects his actions, Minho rubs his stomach and points at the mer. “Hungry?”

 

The mer nods, but he still has that confused look that Minho regrets being responsible for because he can’t explain the change, or for the mer to forget about it.

 

Instead, Minho nods, doesn’t move, and holds his hands up to signal how many minutes he’s going to stay here with the mer.

 

That helps distract the mer, because the gesture is familiar due to how long they used it yesterday, so he nods, and surprises Minho as he lazily begins to surface swim, something he hasn’t done yet, as he begins a light, bouncy, whistling vocalisation.

 

“Huh,” is all that Minho can comment as he watches the mer bask in the lazy stretch he does around the perimeter of the tank, wondering if this is the mer version of singing, or if the mer is actually conversing with him.

 

The mer keeps checking Minho’s hands, nodding each time he notices that Minho’s hands haven’t changed, or pouting when he notices that more time has passed than when he last checked.

 

“You know, I wonder if it will be worthwhile to show you a clockface, make it easier for you to understand our routine,” Minho comments to the mer, and smiles when all he gets is a long tilt of the mer’s head. “Never mind. Keep swimming.”

 

Even though the change in routine will hopefully boost the mer’s recovery and keep him feeling less like a caged animal now that he has Minho for company both in and out of the tank, the communication barrier is still hard to work with because only some gestures can be broadly understood which limits how specific Minho can be when he communicates with him.

 

But, Minho is determined.

 

He’ll find a way to keep communication strong between them.

 

Even if he has to research body language gestures to broaden his scope of them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning, Minho is ready.

 

Compared to yesterday’s morning, he’s dressed in his wetsuit, minus an airtank, foot fins, and goggles.

 

If this doesn’t communicate what Minho was attempting to establish yesterday, then he’ll try again tomorrow when he sits his ass in his PJs on the end of the catwalk.

 

“Yo, Lix, I’m going in, so hurry up!” Minho calls up to the bedding area of the residential floor, grinning at the annoyed, sleepy, groans from Seungmin and Jeongin, as Felix’s head pops over the railing.

 

“Can’t you wait ten minutes? I need to piss, and wake up fully,” Felix grumbles down at him.

 

“You three insisted on the supervision,” Minho reminds them with a smirk. “I doubt I need it, let’s be real.”

 

“It’s a precaution. Just because we believe he won’t kill you, doesn’t mean we should go in balls deep,” Seungmin’s muffled retort comes before he crawls into view, waiting for Felix to descend before doing so too.

 

Minho pulls a playfully disgusted face at the lewdness. “It’s too early for your potty mouth.”

 

“Says the one that has his entire junk on display in that obscenely tight wetsuit,” Seungmin snorts out. “Wetsuits aren’t meant to be that tight, Min.”

 

“It’s too fucking early for this flirting, shut up!” Jeongin hollers from where he’s still in bed, making Felix laugh, and for Seungmin to turn back to the airbeds to enact some sort of revenge for the comment because Jeongin’s tinkling laughter soon follows.

 

“Go. I’ll be commandeering your bed in a few minutes,” Felix says, forcing life and energy into his heavy, tired, voice as he hurries to the toilet room.

 

Knowing that the mer will be waiting for him up at the surface of the tank because he now associates Minho leaving the vicinity of the tank first thing in the morning for Minho to greet him up at the surface (never once proving to be irritated if it takes Minho as long as it does if he uses that as his chance to quickly use the toilet), Minho climbs the stairs up to the catwalk with the rolled up ladder he had collected from the storeroom and makes his way to the very end of it.

 

As soon as the mer notices him, his eyes are widening, and when he pats the water, Minho nods, and can’t help from smiling too along with the mer.

 

“Morning,” Minho greets, squatting so that he can fix the ladder to the metal hoops at the end of the catwalk, not yet unfolding it.

 

“Hi!”

 

One second, he’s leaning to clip the ladder into place.

 

The next, he’s falling head first into the tank.

 

This time, his shock overrules instinct, so he’s coughing and spluttering as he resurfaces, the burn of water in his lungs making his cough rattle obnoxiously loud in the space.

 

But, all he can focus on is the very source of his fall.

 

The mer is frowning at him, a soft trill escaping him, and he gestures to Minho’s face. “Hurt?”

 

Minho almost inhales more water as his limbs forget how to fucking move which prompts the mer in coming towards him, and before Minho can right his sinking weight, the mer’s tail is wrapped around his hips again in a familiar hold.

 

“How?!” is all he can blurt out as his brain struggles to process what the fuck is happening.

 

The mer winces from the volume of Minho’s rightfully overwhelmed voice being near enough in his face, and his hands gently cup Minho’s face, rendering him further dumb from shock because that action is new too as well as the mer’s sudden ability to speak like a human.

 

“Your words mine,” the mer says thickly, his expression scrunching up tightly in concentration, and then winces at the end, one of his hands leaving Minho’s cheek to press against the scales of his throat. “Hurt.”

 

Minho repeats the words in his head, gaze focused on the mer’s throat, before hesitantly saying, “your…your throat hurts?”

 

Not expecting the mer to understand that word, Minho quickly moves to point to his own throat but halts before he can because the mer nods rapidly.

 

“You understood that?” Minho rushes out, thankful that the mer is the one keeping him afloat because he doesn’t think his brain is even capable of doing so at the moment.

 

The mer frowns, his hand pressing firmer against his throat, as he nods again.

 

Shelving the list of questions for later, Minho needs to try and figure out how to ease the obvious pain the mer is in since he won’t stop cradling his throat.

 

“How to help?” Minho dares to ask, pointing to the mer’s throat.

 

The mer shakes his head, his frown easing as he smiles softly at Minho.

 

Now it’s Minho’s turn to frown. “No help?”

 

The mer nods, his hand pressing firmer against his throat as he says, “time.”

 

Time? As in- “wait, you’re not….you’re not worried?”

 

The mer frowns, his hand moving from his throat to once more cup Minho’s face again, making Minho very aware of the fairly vulnerable and touchy embrace he’s in with the mer.

 

With intension concertation, the mer croaks out, “your words mine.”

 

Grasping the hands against his face, Minho repeats, “your words mine?”

 

The mer nods, his expression shifting into the softest expression that Minho has seen from the mer so far, making him feel very shy all of a sudden to be on the receiving end of it, as he makes a quiet sound that Minho has become used to hearing from him.

 

“Okay…I don’t know what you mean,” Minho slowly shares.

 

The mer makes another soft vocalisation, his hands moving to hold Minho’s hands instead of his face, lifting them so that Minho is forced to look at their hands.

 

Not feeling the slightest bit confident in trying to figure out what the mer is obviously hinting at, Minho questioningly states, “yes, we’re holding hands.”

 

The mer shakes his head, and squeezes his hands gently.

 

Minho looks back at the mer’s patient smile. “But…we’ve done this before.”

 

“Minho?!”

 

Minho almost jumps out of the mer’s hold from fright at the unexpected bark of his name from Felix’s alarmed shout, the mer tightening his tail around Minho’s hips to keep him secure, as Minho awkwardly turns the best he can at the heavy thumping and rattling of Felix running along the catwalk.

 

And notices another security issue that is going to get him into trouble.

 

“Ah…the ladder is still up there,” Minho dumbly comments, and stiffens in surprise as the mer manoeuvres them so that Minho can face the catwalk without straining his neck and torso.

 

Felix appears within seconds, face flushed, his gaze a mix of worry and confusion, as he hastily shoves the ladder to unroll and for the ends of it to splash into the water, making both Minho and the mer jerk back from the spray.

 

“Get up here, right now,” Felix orders, his voice shaking despite the strictness to his words.

 

“I didn’t dive in intentionally,” Minho declares, not yet moving towards the ladder, very aware of the little, gentle, rhythmic squeezes to his hands from the mer where they lie beneath the water.

 

“Later. This height is no fucking joke, Min, get your ass up here so I can check your neck,” Felix grits out tightly, revealing the cause of why he’s being uncharacteristically impatient with Minho.

 

And considering that Minho did fall head first, he knows that the faster he gets checked over, the faster he can focus back on the mer and his new found skill of being able to talk.

 

Giving the mer’s hands a squeeze, Minho moves to swim from him, hoping the mer will release his tail from around Minho so he can actually move forward.

 

Instead, the mer softly tuts, moves his hands from Minho’s to grab around his waist, as he releases his tail from around Minho to effortlessly swim for Minho as he guides Minho’s stiff body towards the ladder.

 

Largely aware of Felix’s reaction to the new display of assistance from the mer, Minho – flustered - thanks the mer in a stuttering mess as he tightly grips the rope ladder and tries to gracefully get his ass up it.

 

Once he’s kneeling on the catwalk, Felix is all over him, his delicate fingers gently probing and prodding around his shoulders, his spine, his nape, before carefully testing the movement of Minho’s neck, all the while checking in with Minho for any pinches of pain, tightness, or discomfort.

 

“No, I feel good,” Minho reassures, aware of the burning gaze at his back.

 

Felix’s hands retreat, his expression losing its previous intensity as his worry lessens. “I want to recheck in a few hours, just to be safe.”

 

“Of course,” Minho says, rubbing his damp, pruning, hand against Felix’s arm. “Sorry for the scare, he caught me off guard.”

 

“He did?” Felix questions with a small frown, glancing around Minho to look at the mer that Minho knows hasn’t left the surface because he can still feel his silent attention on his back.

 

Unsure if he should reveal what the mer has revealed to him, Minho carefully moves so that his back is not directly facing the edge of the catwalk, but so that the mer can see his side profile now, allowing Minho to do a quick visual check to get a read on the mer’s mood.

 

He can’t see any panic in the mer’s expression, just his usual open curiosity as he observes Minho and Felix, but Minho isn’t so sure he can just…blurt it out that mers can speak the human language but it causes them pain to do so.

 

“He sounded hoarse?” Minho says, the white lie slipping too fast over his tongue for him to stop it, as he looks to Felix for guidance. “Is it possible for mers to get sore throats?”

 

Felix regards the mer with another careful look as he says, “if he’s spending more time than he’s used to on the surface, then maybe the exposure of air to his vocal cords is irritating them? Though, if he has a bacterial virus, I don’t want you close to him until we make sure it isn’t contagious and the water has been treated too.”

 

“Actually,” Felix adds, looking to Minho, “go clean yourself and your gear. I’ll inform the other two of the mer’s new symptom and see if we can somehow get him to give us a saliva sample so we can rule out a virus.”

 

Not realising just how deep this impromptu lie of his will lead, Minho says, “how about I get it? He trusts me, right? I’ll show him how to spit in a tube and get a sample that way.”

 

“I want to limit – even if it is late – cross-contamination if he really has a virus,” Felix frets, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll see if the others have any ideas of-”

 

“I doubt I’m infected,” Minho forces his voice to be neutral as he cuts off Felix, “and I can-”

 

“No sick.”

 

Minho ignores the way Felix’s startled, wide-eyed, gaze has snapped to look at the mer, and wishes what has just happened, didn’t.

 

He hears the familiar sound of water being patted, forcing Minho to look at the mer too because at this point he’s been conditioned by the sound to do so, to see that the mer’s gaze is flickering from Minho to Felix as he pats the water.

 

Once he’s gotten both of their attention – Felix being alarmingly too quiet – the mer points to his throat, and says, “hurt. No sick.”

 

Catching the way Felix sharply turns his attention back to Minho, Minho beats him to it as he admits, “I panicked and lied? Yes.”

 

“I…fair,” Felix heaves out, slowly dropping back to his knees, as he looks down to the mer. “Hi?”

 

Helplessly endeared by Felix’s shy greeting, Minho is further endeared when the mer smiles and returns the greeting with more confidence than him.

 

“Not to take away from how neither one of us expected this outcome, can I get back into the water? I don’t want to confuse him with setting this new routine,” Minho checks with his friend.

 

“Sure, just…just keep an eye on any pain from your neck,” Felix stresses the last part, his worry not fully abated.

 

With far more grace than the previous two times he’s entered the tank, he actually succeeds in descending the ladder correctly under the watchful gaze of his audience of two.

 

Once in the tank, Minho turns to face the mer who is smiling happily at Minho’s return to the water.

 

But, Minho has a budding plan in mind as he lightly swims to the mer.

 

“How long?” Minho curiously asks the mer, holding his hand up before curling his fingers down, and points to the mer’s throat to make his question clearer.

 

The mer frowns, his hand covering his throat. “Time.”

 

“Time to heal,” Minho nods, understanding that part, and lifts one finger as he asks, “yesterday, hurt?”

 

The mer glances at his finger, then to Minho’s encouraging gaze.

 

The mer shakes his head, lifts a hand from the water, and holds up four fingers.

 

Four.

 

Minho doesn’t need to hear Felix’s low, ‘oh’, his brain connected it just as fast.

 

“Four days?” Minho checks tightly, praying the mer only means four hours or less.

 

The mer nods, though he is looking at Minho as if he’s bracing himself for a reaction, his body language cautious all of a sudden.

 

Minho can’t really blame the mer for withholding the fact that four days ago his throat began to hurt, because four days ago the mer was in such a bad state for Felix and his crew to dive into action to help.

 

However, this just means that they have yet another mystery as to why the mer is suddenly being talkative now.

 

And it doesn’t explain the mer’s insistence of ‘your words mine’, whatever that means, or that ‘time’ will cure the discomfort he’s been feeling. 

 

“Why?” Minho delicately questions, not wanting to come across as direct as it can sound, but also needing more answers.

 

The mer’s body language loses some of its cautiousness, but his expression still regards Minho so as he taps his throat and shakes his head.

 

“Hurt.”

 

Conceding with the mer’s discomfort for prolonged conversation, Minho instead looks to Felix. “Nothing we can do for the minor pain he’s in?”

 

Felix glances at the mer, expression hesitant. “Just low-grade painkillers?”

 

Minho looks to the mer too to see him shaking his head, a soft smile on his lips as he tentatively moves closer to Minho again as they tread water.

 

“Time,” the mer insists to be the cure, his hands reaching for Minho’s in a gentle grip.

 

 “Okay…” Minho trails off, forcing the concern of knowing the mer is in some pain to the side because of his insistence, he instead tries to articulate the new routine simply enough, aware of Felix rising to leave them from the corner of his eye.

 

The mer, unlike yesterday when Minho had unintentionally confused him, seems to grasp the routine now, judging by the excited tugs to his hands for Minho to start swimming with him around the tank.

 

“I can swim under, I just can’t go deep,” Minho points to his empty back, and exaggerates taking in a large breath and holding it, his fingers ticking down the time.

 

The mer nods, still not having spoken since he last mentioned it hurt to do so, and Minho gives into the mer’s excitement and begins to slowly breaststroke around the tank with the mer keeping pace easily as copies Minho’s form, making him laugh at the unexpected mimicry.

 

“You like to copy, huh?” Minho comments as they lazily swim around the tank, enjoying the chance to exercise.

 

The mer’s expression is playful as he nods his head.

 

“Isn’t it harder to swim like that?” Minho questions, and then decides to answer it for himself as he stops kicking his legs out and tries to swim using just his arms as he keeps his legs tightly together.

 

The end result has him inhaling a mouthful of water, causing him to splutter and cough, as he treads water to clear the water from his lungs, the familiar texture of the mer’s hands resting on Minho’s hips as he steadies Minho’s movement as he coughs.

 

“Fuck,” Minho coughs out, chest and throat burning from expelling the water, as he meets the mer’s concerned gaze. “I’m fine. Underestimated how strong you are in comparison to me, fuck.”

 

“Fuck?”

 

Dread and horror fills Minho as he gawps at the mer’s croaked cuss word. “No.”

 

The mer tilts his head in confusion.

 

“Bad word,” Minho rushes out, feeling his neck and cheeks burn. “Don’t say that word.”

 

And despite Minho’s rightful panicking, the mer loses his confusion as a look that Minho can only describe as mischievous graces his face.

 

Holding his throat, Minho’s stern ‘no’ is ignored, as the mer grins at Minho as he says, “fuck.”

 

Splashing the mer’s face, Minho is both frustrated and endeared by the mer’s cheek to croak out the cuss word despite being in pain all because he’s getting a reaction out of Minho.

 

It’s exactly like when the mer discovered that Minho is ticklish and sought out the same reaction from him.

 

“Menace,” Minho mumbles, trying hard to keep the way he finds the mer’s behaviour to be endearing even at the cost of Minho receiving a future scolding once the trio learn of this.

 

The mer grins at him, uncaring or not fully knowing what that word means, and then gestures for them to go below the water with a head tilt as he waits for Minho’s response.

 

Taking in a dramatic, and completely unneeded inhale of air, Minho forces his mind to quieten from the discovery of this morning and its confusion for the simplicity of enjoying being immersed underwater.

 

He’ll get some answers soon. The mer is too confident of the healing timeline for his throat, and if Minho has learnt anything about the mer it is that he is very curious, so the second he can speak without being in pain then it will be a competition of who will fire off the most questions between them.

 

Until then, he’ll continue to solidify the mer’s routine.

 

Even if it means having to calmly reassure the panicked creature when Minho holds his breath a few beats too long for the mer’s comfort before the mer so much allows Minho to so much as dip his nose under the water from the steady hold he has around Minho’s hips again.

 

The more the mer remains engaged and mentally stimulated – even if at the cost of Minho’s rising shyness at the direct attention and care – the faster he will recover.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So, does this convince you more that he sees you as a member of his pod?” Is how Minho is greeted as soon as he steps out of the washroom, towel around his shoulders to catch the drips of water from his hair so that his hoodie doesn’t become soaked.

 

Narrowing his gaze at the smug source, Seungmin merely grins at him from where he’s sat on the sofa, an open laptop poised on his lap.

 

“You three are such gossips,” Minho tuts, aiming for the kitchenette so he can finally have something to eat now that he has a small window away from the mer as he naps off his breakfast.

 

“And you’re still in denial, how the fuck is that still possible.”

 

Rolling his eyes at the retort, Minho grabs what he needs for his breakfast and starts preparing it. “I told you, we don’t have all the facts, only theories.”

 

“And the theories are shaping up to be facts,” Seungmin snorts, the sound of his laptop’s keyboard resuming as he returns to whatever it is he’s doing whilst being a thorn in Minho’s side.

 

Whilst Minho is trying to normalise his openness to not fearing having somewhat of a friendship with the mer due to Felix’s intervention, it’s still a lot for him to process the connections of the mer’s behaviour to himself.

 

“For all we know, mers do this all the time,” Minho begins, splitting his focus between cooking his food and also baiting Seungmin.

 

Seungmin’s scoff makes the corner of Minho’s lips twitch upwards. “Sure. That theory has the same credibility as us two being able to go five seconds without ribbing the other over something.”

 

Minho laughs at that. “I dunno, sometimes we can make it a whole minute.”

 

The sound of Seungmin’s keyboard tapping halts. “What is the vibe you get from him?”

 

Frowning at the random question, Minho risks a quick look over his shoulder from his food to see Seungmin’s curious gaze on him. “What do you mean? You’ve seen-”

 

“Observing as a third party, and being the party involved, are two different things,” Seungmin cuts him off, waving off his remark. “You’re able to read him up close, get a feel of his personality.”

 

Minho shrugs his shoulders, continuing to scramble his eggs. “He’s curious.”

 

“Obviously.”

 

Minho rolls his eyes at the retort, turning the heat down so he can quickly grab a small bowl for his scrambled eggs.

 

“‘Your words mine’, he said that, right?” Seungmin hums, and Minho nods as he quickly plates his food. “Makes you wonder what he means.”

 

“It means that, for being in pain, he still did a decent job in letting us know that from now on there won’t be further communication issues,” Minho huffs out as he blasts the frying pan with hot water to remove the residue before it can have time to stick and make clean-up tedious.

 

“Because?” Seungmin prompts, still not returning to his laptop.

 

“Because he could’ve easily spoken in a Rokna or Isles dialect, but he used the standard instead,” Minho points out the obvious, before shovelling in a mouthful of his breakfast while it’s still hot.

 

Apparently, his point wasn’t as obvious as it is because Seungmin looks surprised.

 

“Fair point,” Seungmin muses, his attention darting to his laptop as his fingers fly over the keyboard faster than previously. “I wonder if that means he’s from Capila’s ocean.”

 

Minho shrugs, his brain too full of theories about the mer to add more to it. “For how intelligent they are, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that mers can learn various dialects too.”

 

“Probably,” Seungmin agrees, not looking up. “Innie wants you to have more skin contact with the mer.”

 

Minho chokes on his food.

 

“Excuse me?” He manages to get the words out once he’s able to swallow his food instead of suffocating from it. “How did we go from theorising the linguistic nature of mers, to me and the mer touching?”

 

Seungmin grins, pleased at effectively causing Minho topic whiplash. “You should go see him about it then.”

 

“You’re a fucking pain in my ass, Min, you could easily tell me it since you were the one to bring it up.”

 

“Yeah, but in case it has escaped your notice, someone in this place has to keep a thorough log of timelines and theories concerning the health of our patient.”

 

“More like a gossip journal of your hopes and dreams concerning mers,” Minho retorts back, enjoying the partial glare he gets for it. “Dear journal, the great and fabulous Lee Minho assisted with-”

 

“Now who is the one waxing about their hopes and dreams?”

 

Minho chuckles at the scoffed retort, finishes the rest of his food, and quickly cleans up after himself, the playful lull between them nice and satisfying as it always is whenever they bicker and bait each other.

 

His friendship with Seungmin is drastically different to the friendship he has with Jeongin and Felix, both males are a bit softer, and can take blunt words to heart even if spoken in jest, so Minho always treats them with care whenever he plays with them.

 

Seungmin, though? Sometimes it’s hard to tell who has the sharper tongue, him or Minho.

 

Seungmin has his limit, and he’s aware of Minho’s (it’s only natural to learn how much is too far and to establish when banter has crossed the line), but Seungmin enjoys playful verbal sparring, it’s – as Lix puts it - a love language of his. Seungmin can read vocal tones fluently, which makes him an adept negotiator as well as an endearing menace, he can also bounce well off Minho’s bluntness, and vice versa.

 

“Don’t be glued to that thing all morning!” Minho calls on his way out, and gets a hum of acknowledgement in answer.

 

Entering the clinic to find Jeongin sitting at the computer, Jeongin looks up from a complicated-looking graph of numbers on the clinic desktop at Minho’s approach.

 

“Do I even want to ask what it is you’re looking at, or shall I preserve my pride?” Minho questions teasingly, making the youngest laugh.

 

“Min baited you here successfully then?” Jeongin guesses correctly.

 

“For once. He’s got me curious as to why you think skinship between me and the mer is needed,” Minho answers as he leans against the counters next to the tiny desk.

 

“The timeline of him feeling discomfort matches with the day you began to have close proximity with him,” Jeongin explains, looking back to the monitor as he clicks off the complicated graph and to a much simpler one. “It’s only a theory, of course, but for now, I want to record if physical touch or proximity could be another requirement regarding his health.”

 

“Sort-of how humans need some social aspects to keep the mind healthy?” Minho hazards a guess, and Jeongin nods.

 

“If he’s been alone for some time, then meeting you again in close encounters may have been a blessing if he’s finding it painful to talk. It could mean he’s gone long stretches of time being silent.”

 

Minho frowns, his initial theory of the mer approaching Minho from a place of loneliness hitting him deeply in his chest again.

 

“I guess it can’t hurt to try,” Minho consents, smiling fondly at the back of Jeongin’s head at the younger’s excited, hushed, ‘yes!’ as he quickly types in the upcoming days.

 

Minho isn’t a massive initiator of skinship – beyond the odd playful slap to the rear – but surely trying to find an opening to touch the mer won’t be too difficult.

 

The mer tickled his feet, the least he can allow is for Minho to find his own ticklish spot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If Minho didn’t know otherwise, the next morning would be the same as the previous mornings – Minho waking to the view of the mer smiling at him from where he mirrors Minho’s prone position on the sandy tank bed, sleepily dragging his feet up to the catwalk so that he can greet him in his PJs.

 

“Hi!” The mer greets loudly, his voice still unfamiliar in spoken words rather than the vocalisations Minho is used to.

 

Unlike those previous mornings, yesterday’s revelation wasn’t a fluke.

 

“Mornin’,” Minho grunts around his swallowed yawn as he plants his ass at the end of the catwalk, gesturing to his throat as he asks, “okay?”

 

The mer hums, and Minho is unclear if that is a ‘yes’ hum or a ‘so-so’ hum, as the mer smiles up at him.

 

Minho nods anyway, wanting the mer to know that he’s listening, trying to remove the sludge of sleep still clinging to his mind and body as he idly stretches.

 

“Name?”

 

Minho almost pops his shoulder out from how fast and hard he jars himself at the unexpected question.

 

Blinking down at the smiling mer, Minho points to himself. “Me?”

 

The mer nods, eagerness shining in those expressive eyes of his.

 

“Minho,” he says his name clearly, curious how the mer’s unique voice will sound it.

 

“Minho,” the mer sighs out, his tone soft and – dare Minho think it – fond? Which is nuts to perceive but that is the only word that floods Minho’s now flustered mind.

 

“Yours?” Minho rushes out, ignoring the hotness clinging to the tops of his ears, pointing to the mer, hoping that he can finally have a name for him.

 

The mer grins, seemingly pushing himself as high as he can without actually surging up from the water, as he pats his chest.

 

“Jisung,” the mer mimics Minho’s manner of introduction, his intonation clear and slow for Minho to hear.

 

He was hoping for a name, he even asked the mer for it, but he wasn’t expecting such a…human name? He’d assumed the mer may have had a really unique sound for his name that Minho would probably butcher with every attempt of trying to say it, rather than an actual name-name.

 

“Jisung?” Minho repeats, even though he heard clearly, and can’t help the huff of a short laugh leaving him as the mer nods rapidly, his eyes wide and round, as he slowly sinks back into the water.

 

“Hello, Minho,” Jisung greets softly, his voice still raspy, but the smile on his lips doesn’t dim despite the obvious roughness.

 

Unable to not find the greeting endearing, Minho can’t help but smile back as he responds in kind. “Hello, Jisung.”

 

Not wanting to push the mer’s adjustment period to speaking, Minho reverts to their familiar gestures as he asks Jisung if he is hungry for breakfast.

 

Jisung nods, and holds a hand to his throat as he asks, “your food?”

 

“My breakfast?” Minho checks, and gets a nod in answer. “I eat after you.”

 

Jisung shakes his head, and Minho briefly begins to panic, wondering if he’s misunderstood the mer’s initial question.

 

“Eat now,” Jisung croaks out, his expression falling into a deep scowl as the latter part of his voice gives out.

 

“Don’t talk if it hurts,” Minho insists gently, not wanting Jisung to prolong his healing just to engage in small talk with Minho even if it is the most engaging small talk he’s had for a long while.

 

Jisung pouts, presses his hand harder to his throat, as he says in clear, slow, croaks, “you eat now.”

 

Torn between arguing his case of routine with the mer and accepting the mer’s insistence for him to eat first, Minho settles for the middle ground.

 

“I’m not hungry yet,” he tells Jisung, and gets the most scrutinised stare he’s received from the mer so far as Jisung studies him.

 

Just when Minho thinks he’s managed to appease Jisung, the mer shakes his head, both hands pressing to his throat as he rasps out, “you first.”

 

Shoving aside the burning question of ‘why’, Minho forces his own stubbornness to retreat as he gives in to the mer’s demand to go eat breakfast first.

 

“Okay?” Minho still checks as he gets up.

 

Jisung nods, a pleased smile to his lips, as he slowly sinks so that only his eyes are above the water.

 

Walking from the catwalk and to the clinic door, does he then give in to the urge to check the tank, and isn’t at all surprised to see the mer at the glass, watching him.

 

And when Jisung waves, Minho can’t help the bark of surprised laughter from escaping his chest as he looks away.

 

“This isn’t part of the routine,” comes Jeongin’s rumble from above, the sounds of Minho’s quiet attempts of making starting the coffee pot and his own breakfast proving to be useless as he looks up to see the younger peering down at him.

 

Minho shrugs his shoulders. “He insisted I eat first.”

 

He can feel Jeongin’s gaze on him as he works, but the prolonged silence is the reason why he looks back at the younger to see a puzzled expression on Jeongin’s face.

 

“He…insisted?”

 

Minho nods, looking back at his task at hand. “Even though it caused him obvious pain, his stubbornness to be listened to outweighed it.”

 

“That will be interesting to see,” Jeongin says before being swallowed by a yawn so loud that Minho’s jaw aches in sympathy.

 

“What will?” he calls, distracted.

 

“Two stubborn heads butting together.”

 

Minho rolls his eyes at the remark, idly listening to Jeongin’s movements, the deep sleepy grunt from Felix as Jeongin resettles back in bed, as he pictures future interactions with Jisung.

 

“Oh yeah, his name is Jisung!” Minho calls loudly, tone playful, and smirks at the chaos that it immediately sparks, a mix of sleepy groans and cussing, as well as Jeongin’s now wide-awake shout of, “Jisung?!”

 

He begins four sets of breakfast, all the while fondly listening to the chaos he’s woken and doing nothing to temper it down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning, when Minho greets Jisung in his diving suit, the mer only blinks in confusion for all of three seconds before understanding hits him, excitement growing as he backs away from the catwalk for Minho to unroll the ladder.

 

“Throat okay?” Minho calls, his back to the mer, as he descends the ladder.

 

“No eat?” Jisung asks instead, his voice not yet raspy, but Minho can hear the lingering tightness.

 

Once he’s in the water and facing Jisung, Minho shakes his head, lifting the collar of his wetsuit from his skin as he says, “eating before diving hurts my stomach.”

 

Jisung’s gaze darts from the collar of his wetsuit that wetly snaps back to his skin as he lets it go and to Minho’s face as he edges closer to Minho, and then he’s all up in Minho’s personal space as he lightly brushes his fingertips along the edge of Minho’s collar.

 

“Why?” Jisung questions, head tilted slightly, as he looks from the material that he’s touching to look at Minho.

 

“Ah,” Minho says, wondering how he can answer simply since he’s still not sure just how fluent Jisung is with the Capila dialect. “It keeps me warm in the water.”

 

Jisung’s fingers gently press against the skin of Minho’s neck, causing him to suck in a startled inhale, fully aware of how he’s gawping curiously at the mer, as Jisung moves his touch back to the collar before touching Minho’s neck again.

 

“Not different?” Jisung rasps, scowl returning as he presses a hand to his throat, and being so up close to the mer, Minho notices the clear frustration in Jisung’s gaze.

 

Hearing Jeongin’s words loud in his head, Minho is reaching out before he can overthink it.

 

Jisung’s curiosity towards his wetsuit and how it works slips from his focus as it’s his turn to gawp at Minho, clearly taken aback even as he eagerly links their fingers together as Minho gently pries Jisung’s hand from his throat.

 

“No more talking,” Minho gently orders, and when Jisung looks like he’s about to croak out an argument, Minho reaches out again to press his hand over the mer’s mouth, chuckling at the expressive wide-eyed gaze he gets in return. “Until your throat no longer hurts, no more questions.”

 

Jisung answers not with words, but with a vocalisation that Minho is familiar with, a humming croon of sorts, as the mer lets go of Minho’s hand to – unsurprisingly – copy Minho as he covers Minho’s mouth with it.

 

Rolling his eyes fondly at the mimicry, becoming used to it now, Minho tests to see if he can be playful with the mer, and quickly licks the scaled palm that is pressed lightly against his mouth.

 

He can feel the inhale being sucked in from over the back of his hand, and sees the way that Jisung’s eyes focus on where Minho’s mouth is currently hidden.

 

And then, true to form, Minho feels a quick, wet, drag of Jisung’s tongue against his palm, Jisung’s gaze flickering up to meet Minho’s.

 

It’s unexpectedly intimate, considering his initial test of playfulness, that Minho doesn’t know how to respond because there is zero ounce of playfulness in Jisung’s gaze or body language.

 

If anything, there is a new intensity to the mer’s expression that Minho hasn’t encountered yet.

 

Completely out of his depth – even more so than he normally is with Jisung – he nervously retracts his hand, and goes into full distraction mode as he splashes both palms down into the water, causing it to spray up in both of their faces, and for Jisung to squawk in surprise, his hand leaving Minho’s face.

 

Without missing a beat, Minho is already underwater, and grins at Jisung when the mer sinks to be at his level.

 

And if he notices a new sheen of pinkness to Jisung’s cheeks, or the way the mer is even more tactile than normal with seeking contact from Minho with his hands or a brush of his tail against his legs, Minho shoves it into the corner of his mind that is already overfilling with questions regarding the mer.

 

He just has to wait a bit longer to get the answers.