Chapter Text
⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
The first thing Riddle does when his head resurfaces is cough so hard he’s worried his lungs might escape from his mouth.
“I’m sorry!” Rielle’s voice frets as hands steady Riddle in the water so he no longer has to fight to keep his head up in his current state.
“It’s okay…!” He wheezes out between hacks, nasal passage and head burning where sea water flooded every orifice. He pinches his nose like it will help the burn, eyes watering from the sting where sea water filled his gaze after he opened them in shock.
He needs to train his immediate habit of gasping when surprised out so he doesn’t keep inhaling so much water.
“Are you sure?” Rielle asks. His fins brush Riddle’s heels where he’s huddled up to the matching redhead to hold him, arms locked around his waist.
“Mhm,” Riddle coughs one last time, shaking his head before rubbing his eyes, “I just took in too much water when I went under.” He lets Rielle separate from him when he can support himself in the water, kicking his legs and drawing his arms in and out to tread the water.
“Sorry…” Rielle wilts into the water, sinking until his chin dips into the waves.
“It’s okay,” Riddle assures him despite the persistent burn, “It’s not your fault. I’ve already gotten used to it.”
Rielle still looks guilty. Riddle doesn’t blame him for the mishap. It isn’t the first time it’s happened, and he suspects it won’t be the last. And still, Rielle clearly feels bad every time Riddle so much as gets too tired.
Granted, it’s very easy for Riddle to get tired when doing anything in the water with the merman. He doesn’t have the same endless energy his friend seems to have.
(He’s been getting really hungry lately.)
“Here,” Riddle begins, feeling bad seeing the utterly dejected look on Rielle’s face, “I want to try to float on my own again. Can you help me keep my head up so that doesn’t happen again?”
Rielle immediately perks up at the request, bright turquoise regaining the previous glimmer of excitement, “Of course!”
Seamlessly, Rielle closes the distance between them in the water to position himself behind Riddle. Riddle lets himself fall backwards, head resting on the boy’s outstretched arms as he tries to lay horizontally in the water.
Almost immediately, water fills his ears and dampens all sound around him, leaving only the faint echoing of the rushing water in his eardrums.
“Try to keep your belly up,” Rielle guides him, voice muffled by the water as one hand leaves Riddle’s head to reach down and under, pressing against the small of Riddle’s back, “Curve your back up— Yeah, like that!”
Riddle’s body almost instinctively follows Rielle’s hand, spine arching up to keep his stomach above water. He lets his legs fan out, arms drifting lazily at his sides.
Riddle finds that there is something… oddly serene in the position.
The muted sound of the gentle breeze, the faraway calls of the birds that can only faintly be heard through the water in his ears, drowned out by the echoes of the crashing waves reverberating in his skull. The comforting chill of the water lapping at his waist, calves, and temples, soothing the constant warmth from the barely-setting sun. His limbs held by the water, supported without any effort.
Even the feeling of Rielle’s forearms under his head and the sight of his happy smile above Riddle, bright red hair blending with orange and yellow hues of the sky, casting a glow over red tresses like burning fire… It all serves to make Riddle feel oddly comforted.
Riddle’s eyes fall shut before he can even process it, mind lulled to a slow hum of content, thoughts no more than a faint whisper as he focuses on the feeling of being gently carried by the current and trusting arms.
He doesn’t think he’s ever felt more at peace than he does here.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
“What’s that on your tail?”
Rielle gives him a confused look, blinking wet lashes before glancing back at his tail in the shallow water. The flipping fin has several rings of plastic caught onto its base, an item Riddle only recognizes from the many times its set his mother off about the vile unhealthiness of carbonated drinks.
“Oh, I hadn’t even noticed it this time,” Rielle admits, laying flat on his stomach to reach back and tug the offending item off his tail.
“This time?” Riddle parrots, brows knitted together in concern as he notes to struggle to remove it, “Does this happen often?”
“Only when I come up by the shore,” Rielle admits, chin propped in his palms as he watches Riddle trudge into the water near him, hands carefully pulling at the plastic to free his fins. The adjustable angle aids him in managing to slip wet fins from the plastic rings with minimal pain, the delicate material slipping between the stretched plastic.
“Is there a lot of garbage here?” He asks as he climbs up to the trashcan by the walkway just a few yards from the shoreline to throw the rings away.
“Yeah,” Rielle huffs, “A lot of humans don’t like to clean up when they come here, so it gets caught by the waves and ends up floating through the water.”
“That’s dangerous,” Riddle frowns. He’d always known pollution and littering was a danger for the environment, and how little care some people seemed to have for it. Just the other day when he and his mother went into town, he still found trash littering walkways and streets despite the numerous trash cans lining the buildings. Riddle quite likes most animals and plants, so it’s more than a little disheartening to see how so many people tarnish their homes and habitats with little consideration to them.
“Yeah, but I don’t really have anywhere to put it, so I just leave it back on shore when I go digging through it,” Rielle admits, “Some of it’s pretty cool, though. That’s how I found my dinglehopper!” He tugs the chunk of metal he’s always kept in his bun free—Riddle, apparently very incorrectly, assumed it was a hairclip—before proudly presenting it to Riddle.
Riddle stares at the fork held in front of him.
He blinks once, twice, before his gaze moves back up to Rielle.
He doesn’t have it in himself to tell the boy the truth, not when he looks so excited to be sharing something so simple with Riddle.
He exhales through his nose, “Why don’t I help you clear some of it out? I can take it up to the trashcans for you.”
Riella gasps excitedly, “That sounds perfect!”
And that’s how, the next day, Riddle finds himself anxiously standing at the couch with a set of goggles clipped to his bag that he nabbed from the free lend box at the beach’s tourist center.
(He’s already washed them, very intensively. He has no idea who used them before him and he doesn’t want to find out whatever they could’ve done with them the hard way.)
“Mother? Could I have some trashbags?”
“Trashbags?” His mother echoes incredulously, looking up from the book she’d been entertaining herself with, “What could you possibly need those for?”
“I want to clean up the beach,” He admits honestly, “There’s a lot of garbage down there, I thought it’d be nice to throw it all away so it doesn’t hurt the animals.”
And the merfolk, but Riddle gets the feeling that mentioning that won’t go as well.
His mother’s shoulders lower and she hums, “You’ve finished all your work for today?”
“I did, I also started on some of the sheets for tomorrow,” He says with a nod.
He preens slightly at the approving look she gives him, a warm sensation blossoming in his chest, “Very well. I suppose you’re being productive,” she sets down her book with a bookmark to stand up from the couch. She heads into the kitchen with Riddle eagerly at her heels, digging through a couple cabinets before finding a roll of black bags. She unrolls a few before passing them to Riddle, “Will two be enough?”
“Yes, that should be plenty!” Riddle beams, eagerly taking the bags and neatly folding them together to tuck into the backpack, “Thank you, mama!”
Riddle is already rushing back out the door the moment his sandals are back on his feet, completely missing the smile on his mother’s face behind him.
Rielle is waiting at the shore, perking up when Riddle comes rushing down the sand. If he trips a few times in his excitement, neither of them mention it.
“Ready?” Rielle beams, an odd, net bag that Riddle’s never seen before slung over his shoulder to rest on his hip.
“Mhm!” Riddle nods eagerly, kicking off his sandals and tugging his shirt over his head so he’s only left with a tanktop. He sets his bag a safe distance away from the shore, so the spare clothes and towels inside don’t get wet.
Grabbing the goggles, Riddle wades into the water and fastens the rubber spectacles to his head, adjusting the straps as he moves so they hug his head comfortably. Rielle follows him deeper, until the water reaches Riddle’s chest, but he can still comfortably touch the sandy floor. The chill sends a shiver up his spine, goosebumps rising along his skin as he allows it to reach his shoulders. His friend swims swift circles around him, his eagerness creating a small current that pushes the water against Riddle.
“I can’t go that deep,” Riddle warns him, “I can’t hold my breath for very long.”
“Okay,” Rielle nods, still smiling, “Just let me know when you need air and I can help you swim back up.”
It really must be convenient for Rielle to be able to breathe air so long as his lungs remain moist enough, especially with how often he likes to come up to the surface.
Riddle exhales softly. Fastening the goggles properly over his eyes, wincing slightly at the odd sensation of the suction on his skin. It’s necessary to keep the salty water out of his eyes, but it doesn’t make the feel of the rubber that much more pleasant.
He takes the offered hand held out to him, letting Rielle guide him deeper out into the water. Though Rielle mostly guides him, Riddle is able to keep himself moving with an ease that has become almost second nature. His lessons with Rielle have been more than enough to let him traverse through the water with only minimal struggle. He’ll never be at the degree Rielle himself is at, not with his strong tail designed to fight strong currents, but he can hold his own without the mer’s help.
With one last smile from the bright redhead, Riddle sucks in a deep breath.
And down they go.
With Rielle’s help, navigating to the bottom of the sea floor is an easy task.
“Just don’t let go,” The boy warns, fingers intertwined with Riddle’s as he tugs him deeper into the water, searching for the bottom. Riddle nods wordlessly in agreement. The sound of Rielle’s voice is muffled by the water, but not as hard to hear as Riddle expected it to be. Intrigued, but knowing he can bother Rielle about it later, Riddle lets himself be tugged around.
Seeing through the water is relatively easy with the goggles keeping the water out of his eyes. He nearly breathes in out of shock when Rielle guides him deeper to the sandy floor, rays of sunlight beaming through the water and lighting up the small structures of rock and the little creatures scurrying about. Riddle can’t help but gander at a little crab that busies itself with burrowing deep into the white sand. He recognizes multiple plants and fish as Rielle guides him to a rocky foundation, guiding him to grab onto it to better help anchor him to the floor.
Unfortunately, just as Rielle described, there is no lack of trash littering the ocean floor. Plastic bags, cans, wrappers, and multiple other miscellaneous items of garbage are caught on the plants, rocks, and Riddle even sees an entire portable cooler half-buried in the sand.
The very sight makes him cringe.
“It gets pretty gross,” Rielle explains upon seeing Riddle’s expression, drawing the boy’s gaze to him, “Some of it is pretty cool! I like seeing what I can keep, but most of it is useless,” The mer huffs, pushing himself through the water. Red hair moves in waves behind him, the water carrying bright tresses to float around Rielle’s head like a flaming halo, glowing in the bright sun filtering through the water. Rielle’s eyes have never looked like such a bright shade of blue.
The sight of it takes Riddle’s breath away.
Or, maybe that’s just the lack of air making him feel lightheaded, he realizes.
Quickly waving to get Rielle’s attention, a bubble escapes his lips as he fights back the reflex to breathe in. He realizes the tightness in his chest as his lungs are forced to silence, a feeling he’d missed in his exploration of the new sights.
“Oh, do you need air?” Rielle immediately zips through the water with a single pulse of his tail, arms bracing around Riddle’s midsection, “Hold on to me!”
Riddle barely gets the time to wrap his arms around Rielle’s shoulders before they’re moving up, clinging tight to the redheaded mer from the sudden speed. He doesn’t have to stew in a lack of oxygen for long, Rielle’s speed all but flinging them out of the water, sending water flying and splashing against them.
The moment his head surfaces, he’s taking deep breaths to make up for the lack of air, still leaning against Rielle to focus on breathing over treading.
“Sorry, sorry!” Rielle frets, “I should’ve been paying attention!”
Riddle can only laugh, giddy from the motion and the bubbles still dispersing around their bodies, tickling his skin, “I didn’t even notice, it’s okay!” He breathes out, leaning more of his weight against Rielle, giggling at the squeak he receives as the mer tries to support him, “You can move really fast. I wish I could do that.”
“Uh, well, there’s transformation potions that could give you a tail like me,” Rielle explains, “They’re pretty hard to get, though.”
“I know how to make potions,” Riddle points, “Maybe I could make one and follow you. You could show me your home and everything.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
There’s something in Rielle’s voice that Riddle can’t quite pick apart. He hears the faint hint of bitterness, of a disappointed longing. It sounds… familiar. Too familiar. Despite the lightheadedness clearing, Riddle’s chest still feels tight. A lump forms in his throat to constrict any words that want to escape.
They spend a few more moments floating silently in the water, watching the cool colors of the sky. Eventually, Riddle separates from Rielle, wordlessly taking his hand. He knows the smile he gives his friend isn’t the brightest, but Rielle seems to appreciate it either way, returning the expression.
The usual light in his eyes glimmers, a fact Riddle is grateful for.
He wordlessly takes the mer’s hand again, breathing in and letting him guide them back down into the depths.