Chapter Text
Mike woke up on the poop deck, face down, smelling the mold from the wood. He stirred with a groan. He would've convinced himself that what happened to him last night was a dream influenced by rotten meat and hard tack if it weren't for his drenched clothes, hair, and the burning ache in his back.
Mike didn't sit up or open his eyes for a whole 5 minutes. He just sat there in the early morning haze, listening to the persistent and loud bird that sung in a repeating chirp on the dock as he tried his best to remind himself that he was in fact alive.
The ship wasn't moving, was any one even up? Mike assumed they were still stationed at the small outpost.
It wasn't until a familiar hand grabbed the back of Mikes collar and hoisted him up that he opened his eyes. Despite yesterday's gloomy fog, it was much more bright and sunny out that morning. The sun's blaze shone directly into Mike's eyes, making it impossible for him to see this persons face. But he knew who it was just from their curly hair and recognizable silhouette.
"Wake up, ya bastard. D'you decide to go for a swim last night or somethin'?"
Mike huffed, rubbing his eyes as Dustin let go of him.
"Huh?"
"Your soaked, Mike."
Mike reached up to touch his hair. It was drenched. It made him wonder how long he was really blacked out under the water. The salt water already seemed to be drying his hair ten times curlier then it usually was.
"Where is everyone?" He grumbled
"Went into town. Brushed right passed your snoozing ass!" Dustin barked out a laugh, before shaking his head and continuing. "Yeah. We need some stock up before we get back on the ocean. Also heard there's a pretty rakish bar down there. All flashy and dashing. Cap'n says we'll leave by tomorrow."
"Ah."
"Yup. You thinking of comin' into town or staying here and taking another nap?"
Mike just rolled his eyes, looking out at the sea and then at the nearby outpost. He spotted a merchant standing by the very edge of the island, in front of the docks. She was an older woman with tanned skin. And next to her was a paranoid golden chicken with puffed out cheeks, clucking insistently for more birdseed. He narrowed his eyes and swallowed.
"Nah. Think I'll stay here. Maybe come out for a drink or two later tonight."
"Eh? Well, alright then." Dustin gave him a parting pat on the shoulder as he made his way off the ship. "See ya there, Wheeler."
Left alone with nothing but his thoughts and sopping wet clothes, Mike decided to change and refresh himself.
But as he stood by his bed, drying his hair off with a too small rag, he suddenly realized how quiet it was. Too quiet. The only sound was coming from the other side of the wall, where the ship's maintenance man bustled around in a flurry to repair some leak that had apparently broken out yesterday.
Mike sat on the bed and let his thoughts wind down different paths. He could try to stop them, but he figured that it would be no use. He could only think of the previous night. Mike didn't have a clue what had happened to him down there. Was it the boy who saved him? If so— how? More importantly… why?
And furthermore, Who or what was the boy?
Then Mike had another frantic realization.
There were two of them.
The girl with the bright orange hair, the one who clung to the side of the ship like a barnacle. The one who dragged him down to the water in the first place. This only led to an influx of more questions. Like— were they working together? If so, what was their motive?
It was became too overwhelming for Mike. His ears were flooded with a screaming white static, and his mind felt like it was actively being melted to pure mush. Shutting his eyes, a metallic and salty taste grazed his tongue… and it came to his attention that he was biting down on his lip absentmindedly. He took a deep breath, listening to the maintenance man's scratchy hacking. It was somehow comforting.
~
Mike had spent the whole day pacing and wasting away hours on pointless rabbit holes he dove down. He had written many of his questions onto a spare napkin, misspent ink he could've used on something actually important or pressing. When he stuffed the napkin into his pocket and came back out to the main deck.. the sky had blurred into a muddy orange-blue gradient. The evening however, was still warm. Even as the sun sat in the low parts of the sky.
Mike would've stayed there and watched its every move. He would've stared into the ocean and let his pondering swamp him. He would've sat and let the winds howl sing him asleep. But instead he swallowed every remaining notion of the fish-tailed boy and made his way off the ship.
He heard voices before he saw them, drifting over from the enticing tavern. Hollers and laughs, songs and puns. The warmness of it could've convinced Mike that he was actually wanted in there. Despite how small the island itself was, the tavern was large and buzzing with a happy, drunk crowd. There were other people there, old men and batty, scheming women. His crew had sectioned themselves off into the round tables, gulping down tankards of mead and flashing yellow toothed smiles at the underpaid waitresses. The place was warmly lit, well decorated and mindfully set up. By the bar in the back, Mike spotted Dustin… seemingly brushing off anyone who came up to him, and carefully chipping away at a pint of beer.
Gingerly, he made his way over to the bar, silently hoping that Dustin wasn't actually in a bad mood.
"Henderson..!" he hesitantly called out, stepping forward and standing next to Dustin.
"Heya, Mike." Dustin looked up at Mike with a knowing smile. "Thought you were a no-show. I bought ya a drink."
Mike looked at the pint on the old wooden bar, foaming at the top. The coarse bartender was staring at Mike, as if daring him to take a sip. So he did, he swallowed thickly, trying not to make it obvious how much he was grimacing.
"So… uh- tough crowd?" Mike asked, looking directly into the hollow bubbles on top of the pint.
"What do you mean? Look around, everyone's piss drunk and happy."
"I mean you, dingbat."
"What about me?" Dustin spat, looking up and raising a suspect eyebrow.
"I'm just saying. Ya won't talk to anyone!" Mike reasoned, shrugging and taking another sip of his drink. He then turned to Dustin with a teasing smile.
"Yeah 'cause I was waiting for you!"
"Oh yeah? 'm I your only friend?"
"Other way around, landlubber" Dustin rolled his eyes, but the annoyed undertone of his voice had since dissipated, and a small smile broke through his lips, one stray tooth sticking out from his top lip.
The two of them drank and laughed through the whole night until the sides of their stomachs throbbed with a sickening pain.
~
Hours passed. Dustin had left with the rest of the crew, yet for some reason Mike decided to stay in the tavern, sitting by the bar like some sort of loner buccaneer who you would expect to have one eye.
He stumbled out of the building in a whirl, trying his best to find his footing. He was tipsy at best. He had somehow convinced himself
He coughed and sputtered, making his way over to the shore on the side of the island and hurling. The whole world spun for a moment or two. Sand scratched at the edges of his face as he crashed back onto the rough land.
It was quiet for a moment, but Mike had recently learned how deceptive silence could be.
So he opened his eyes.
And there, where the murky blue water met bubbly white sea foam, a glistening pair of green eyes floated just above the surface. They were focused and precise, like an eagle's eyes on a stray chicken. But there was also something much more soft about them… curiosity perhaps.
If Mike wasn't drunk, he would've screamed, thrown a rock at the face in the water. But instead, he cautiously stood up to investigate.
"Er— are you alright?" he inquired, watching as the figure slowly rose, its full face only being illuminated by the shimmery moonlight. It was the boy who had saved him. The one with the narrow nose and the soft-looking brown hair. He had a thick layer of water dripping off of his skin and hair, and as he emerged Mike couldn't help but admire his features…
"My… you're.."
The boy stayed silent
"Um. I mean- you must be freezing! Would you like to come on board? It's much more warm up there!"
"I don't… think that's a great idea." The boy's eyes darted to the large wooden ship that rocked ever so slightly from the shallow waves, sat comfortably by the dock. They then focused back on Mike.
"Eh? Why not?" Mike said as he stumbled to sit down by the water. He dipped his feet into the cold abyss foolishly… acting as if the boy were an old friend and not a stranger by the shore, who for some reason refused to lift himself out of the water and kept his lower half submerged.
"Well.. pirates don't usually take a liking to people like me."
"What's your name?"
"William. You?"
"Michael. But my… close friends call me Mike" He winked. By close friends, Mike meant Dustin. And only Dustin.
"Mike… elegant."
"Sorry?" Mike knit his eyebrows together.
"Your name. I don't- see many pirates with a name like Michael"
"Oh yeah? You see a lot of pirates?" Mike joked
William snorted out a laugh, and then shrugged.
There was silence for a moment, and then Mike remembered the napkin. All the questions he had for the boy.. maybe he could answer them now they were face to face.
But before he was able to actually pull the napkin out… he realized why he had written those question's in the first place. Mike's hand paused on it's way to his pocket. He played it off by crossing his hands together and licking his lips.
He studied William for a moment more before inhaling and opening his mouth.
"You- um… were you the one that saved me?"
William stayed silent, giving Mike's thoughts some time to process fully. It all became clear… the way the boys skin looked, the fact he only kept his top half above water.. the flick of the water behind him while they spoke.
"I.. am." William muttered, as if ashamed. He shifted ever so slightly.
Suddenly the moment was much more awkward and tense.
"So then… you're the boy with the tail for legs."
Mike observed as William looked down at the water and nodded his head. It was hard to catch.. a simple up down that brought a few stray strands of his choppy hair downwards in front of his face.
"Were you following the boat?" Gone were the honey sweet, alcohol-driven words that he slurred off of his tongue before. Mike's tone was much more defensive now. "… and- who was that other girl?"
"Maxine. Listen, we weren't trying to-"
"Yes you were! She dragged me underwater!" Mike stood up, taking a step back.
"Yes but-"
"But?? Who even are you? Why our crew??" Mike spoke as if the crew was his. As if any of them actually meant anything to him. "Why haven't you killed me yet?"
"What?"
"You're a siren, no?"
"I could've been a mermaid…" William grumbled
Mike only scoffed. He had heard tales of sirens. Seductive women singing to sailors on nearby rocks only to yank them underwater and drown them. Mike realized that the boy in front of him was simply a ruse. Perhaps a disguise, but either way he was a liar and a beast and Mike regretted every second he had spent speaking to him.
William huffed, and shook his head.
"We didn't have any intention of harming you."
And before Mike could respond, William turned on his heels (fins?) and swam away— flicking a blue-ish green tail up in the air and flinging drops of water onto Mike's face.
Mike stared at the water where he had disappeared. He inhaled and turned to go back to the ship.
~
That night was spent like the previous one. Staring into nothing, counting the swirls in the wood above him, shutting his eyes and trying to force sleep, sitting up or changing position… yet the whole night, Mike didn't get a wink of sleep. But he wasn't foolish enough to get up and go to the main deck for air, as he knew that he could end up dead for real that time.
The captain had declared during the later parts of the evening that they would only set sail the next morning… as everyone was wasted and in no condition to man a ship. So for that reason, they had stayed docked at the outpost.
The ship sat still, and Mike was imagining all the microscopic bugs and other insignificant sea creatures that floated in the water below.
He wondered if William was there with them.
He could've swam off and never thought of Mike or his crew again
Or maybe there was a small chance that he had stayed. That he had kept Mike in his conscious.
It took a bright yellow beam of light shining though the cracks of the ship to put Mike to sleep. The sun had landed directly on his face, forcing his eyes shut.