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He doesn't notice at first, because it’s their first day on the beach since last summer and his mind is racing. The sun is warm and the soft sigh of the salt breeze is just as sweet as he remembers, and he feels alive out here on the beach, untouchable in a way the rush of city traffic and asphalt and the daily bustle of other people can’t compare to. Even the feeling of hot sand under his toes is enough to make him giddy and over-excited; the whole summer ahead of him, full of lazy adventure and endless heat-soaked days, and college is a dim presence on the horizon. But then, Mikasa gasps sharp and he tears his eyes away from the rolling surf and comes to a slow stop next to her.
There's something on the beach, a shimmery gray smudge just above the the wash of the tide some ways ahead of them. They both stare, a strange sort of comprehension processing through their brains. Logically, the idle flickering of the fins belong to a seal stranded on the beach, but he's seen seals before, and these movements are strange, almost like the shifting of restless limbs. The color's off, anyway, a smooth silvery-blue in place of murky gray-brown spots.
Eren is drawn forward, none of the pieces clicking together in his mind, and he wants to know. Mikasa pinches the edge of his T-shirt in her fingers, but he shrugs off her grasp. Mikasa's always been cautious and hesitant in her explorations, a perfect counterpart to Eren's natural curiosity (she's slipped them out of trouble more times than he could count), but he's not afraid, not of anything that's washed up on the shore of a beach.
It's weird, as he draws closer, like his mind is supplying bits and pieces of things that shouldn't be there. He's sure he sees the sharp points of elbows and shoulder blades and pale white skin, and the knotted tangle of golden fiber and seaweed looks an awful lot like hair. It feels a bit like walking through the fog of a dream, as if impossible realities are made real under the hazy summer sun. And it's a silly thought, but he gets a little thrill from it, from the possibility that this last summer will be something childishly magical.
A gull screeches overhead, diving close to Eren's head, and it startles him badly enough that he shouts, and the silver blue smudge flickers, and then erupts off the sand. Eren only catches a glimpse of a pale face as the shape slides quickly down the sand and into the water, its tail flicking in a powerful vicious wave as it propels itself deep underneath the surface. Only a trail of bubbles are left on the surface of the water, and those are soon swallowed up by the waves. Eren runs forward, looking, hoping, for some piece of evidence left by the shape, but the only thing left are dark imprints in the sand where it had lain, and dragged itself down to the shore. When he turns towards Mikasa, she's still standing in the same spot, for once her usually impassive face as expressive and surprised as his own.
Eren gets up every morning as soon as the sun rises, and spends entire days on the beach. He drags out books from his mother’s collection, and scours the local library. He reads ravenously, about sea nymphs and mermaids, and even goes so far to ask some of the fishermen about local legends regarding mysterious sea creatures. By the end of the first week of summer vacation, Eren's sunburned red and raw from spending too many days under the hot sun. His skin peels during the second week, and Mikasa makes sure to comment on how gross he looks as often as it occurs to her. He doesn't mind, though. The comments fly through his mind, and they're soon buried in thoughts of mythology and the ocean. He's tan by the third week, his skin taking on that golden glow he develops every summer, and he's taken up swimming every day. His fingers are covered in tiny papercuts from the pages of the books, and the salt water stings whenever he swims.
By the fourth week, he's discouraged. He's spent every day of the past month on the beach, jumped at the sound of every splash, but he still hasn't caught sight of that face from the first day. It was a mermaid, he's convinced, every description he's read lines up with what he remembers, but Mikasa doubts him, rips apart every argument he presents with impossiblity and implausibility, and soon, he doubts himself. It rains on Thursday of that fourth week, warm, misty drizzle that does nothing to lift his mood. He sits underneath his mother's borrowed beach umbrella, flicking through the pages of one of the library books, studying the illustrations. It's quiet on the beach today, no birds screaming overheard, and even the waves are gentler, so he hears the sound of splashing right away, and his heart leaps in nervous excitement.
He’s down at the end of the beach today, the farthest he can get without climbing up the cliffs and onto the grassy hills the beach cuts into. The water is deeper here, pebbly pools and sudden drop offs surrounded by sharp crags of rocks. He peers out into the gray mists, looking for the source of the sound. There's plenty of crabs and tiny fish crawling through the rocks, but not much big enough to make an audible noise. He's learned to not leap up at the every noise, because every time he has in the past weeks, it's been a fish or a bird, or even shifting rocks, and he's honestly not even looking that hard, so the quick flash of yellow out there amongst all those black rocks almost goes unnoticed. But then his mind catches up with his eyes and he's backtracking, searching for an explanation for that glimpse of gold and finding only one, hopeful answer.
He's walking, book abandoned underneath the umbrella, and humid rain clinging to his skin. Pebbles crunch underfoot, before his footsteps fall soggy in the damp sand. He's very still at the edge of the water, searching those rocks for another glance, fingers crossed furiously in the pocket of his sweatshirt. His heart pounds in his ears, because he can't be wrong this time, there's no other explanation for that drop of color on the day's monochromatic backdrop. He picks his way forward in restless quiet, the sand turning once again to water-worn gravel that crunches under his shoes. He wades through the shallows, to the flat slab of rock Mikasa calls his perch, overlooking one of the deep pools tucked in amongst the rocks. When he looks into the water, his breath catches quick in his throat, because there's something large swimming around and around in a lazy circle.
He stares and stares, in quiet disbelief. Excitement, and joy, and ever-present doubt bubble up in his chest and fill his heart to bursting. His shoes slide against the rock when he shifts his weight, tiny periwinkle shells plopping softly into the water, and it's enough of a noise to draw the attention of the creature. The tail flutters under the surface of the water, all quicksilver movement like the tiny, darting fish in the tidepools. It moves towards his perch, and even though he’s expecting it, even though he’s been chasing after this myth, the pair of eyes that meet his still stop his heart. He’s trembling, when he kneels down on the cold wet surface of the rock, the urge to laugh and cry and scream for joy almost overwhelming. There’s a boy, in the ocean, a boy with white skin and golden hair, and silvery blue scales, and this is completely impossible, but Eren’s staring right at him, and he can’t look away. He’s chilled now, to his bones, even in this muggy weather. The tide’s slapping at his hands, his arms, the bottom of his shirt as he leans forward, drizzle turning into fat drops of rain and dripping over his skin. There's a cold hand on his arm, but it's a distant sensation; the boy in the ocean is far too captivating for Eren to care, or notice, much.
It feels so much like a dream that he's scared to look away, or even blink, because he might open his eyes, and find the boy to have vanished like sea foam. The boy blinks slowly, sinks further beneath the surface of the water, and Eren slips forward, closer. The water's just murky enough that the boy's lovely wide eyes are becoming a little fuzzy, and Eren wants, so desperately, to keep that gaze forever, to pull closer and closer until he's had his fill of answers. He can't breathe now, air escaping his mouth in little bubbles, but he's unbothered, unaware of the water creeping into his mouth. The boy brushes his fingers over Eren's face, down the column of his throat, the back of his neck, and Eren is willing and pliable under the touch of this creature. The boy's gaze is almost reverent, wide-eyed curiosity and awe mirrored on both their faces, and he’s slipping forward even more, hips digging into the cool stone beneath him where he’d flattened his body. He reaches out, fingertips light on the boy’s skin, and it feels strange, smooth and slippery and cool.
The edges of his vision are starting to darken now, and he’s starting to panic a little. He tugs against the grasp settled on both arms, but it only tightens, pulls him further. Air, his mind finally realizes, air air airairair. There’s a wildness in the creature’s eyes now, something sea-born and dark and unpredictable. The grip bruises, squeezing tighter until his skin aches, until Eren thinks he’ll drown staring into these eyes, and then, in a swirl of water and silver scales, the creature’s gone, darting off into the sea. He’s sputtering when he’s finally above water, coughing and choking and soaked through with seawater, and the stupid summer neighbor Jean is yelling at him from the edges of the shore. He laughs instead of replying, on the edge of hysterical, and there are tears in his eyes, but he’s so happy. He runs laughing down the beach, shouting for Mikasa, and screams boyish insults at Jean, left dumbfounded and abandoned in the shallows.
Eren drags Mikasa down to the beach the next day, and everyday after that for the rest of the week. He's terrified that the boy has been scared off for good this time, and the look of sad pity on Mikasa's face won't disappear for the rest of the summer. But Sunday morning, when it's bright and breezy, and he's just beginning to feel hopeless again, the boy's there, stretched out on Eren's rock. It takes him all day to tempt her closer, to reassure her that it’s safe, the boy’s harmless (even though the taste of seawater lingers in the back of his throat), and as the sun’s going down, she finally, finally wades out to Eren’s perch and watches the boy swim in the deep tidepool. The boy swims in circles, just like the other day, slow laps around and around. He occasionally moves closer, when Eren’s toes in the water catch his interest, but he doesn’t try to touch again. They both watch him in the heavy light of sunset as he peels snails off the rocks and darts after crabs, until the stars begin to puncture the sky. They leave him to the pool, moonlight catching in the shimmer of his scales. Eren crawls into bed with a smile on his face, and dreams of silver and seawater.
Their days slip into routine, sunscreen and sand and lunches eaten out on the beach. Eren swims out one day when it’s unbearably hot and wading in the shallows doesn’t cut it. Mikasa yells at him from the shore, her voice panic-laced and fracturing on the breeze, but he ignores her. The boy catches sight of him and races after. The boy’s gone ahead in an instant- there’s no way Eren’s strokes can keep up with the strength of his tail- but he speeds back soon enough. The boy’s exhilaration is contagious, and Eren finds himself smiling again as he treads water out in the deep, water sloshing into his mouth. His limbs soon ache from the buffett of the waves and he’s reluctantly swimming back to the beach. The boy drags himself up the sand, when Eren’s spread out on his towel, and settles next to him in the hazy heat. Mikasa sits on Eren’s other side and stares just as unabashedly as him. This is the closest they’ve been, and now Eren can make out the boy’s features, the dark eyelashes, little snubbed nose. There’re gills along the underside of the boy’s jaw, and they pulse like a heartbeat every time he takes a heavy breath, but he doesn’t seem to be choking. The scales spread up his torso, blending into his white skin, and are speckled with spots of darker blue and iridescent white. There’s seaweed tangled in his long golden hair, and gnarls of algae and bits of shell peek out when he shifts. He’s nothing like the sea creatures Eren had read about, but rather, vibrant life. He is the sea, endless and beautiful and strange, and it sends a thrill all the way down to Eren’s toes.
Jean finds them all three on the beach a few days later, when he takes it upon himself to pester the living shit out of Eren before the summer ends. He’s not sure who the blonde kid is, since he knows everybody in the town, and it takes his brain a full minute to catch up with what he’s seeing, but when it does, he drops the cooler and the six pack he snuck out of the house. All three stare at him as he gapes, until something snaps in Eren’s mind and he starts shouting at Jean as he’s shuffling in front of the blonde kid. For once, Jean has nothing to say. And it takes him the better part of an hour-long argument to fully comprehend that yes, this is real, and yes, that’s a mermaid (wouldn’t it technically be a merman?), stop gawking and sit the fuck down or go away. The blonde kid (mermaid? merman?) regards him rather warily at first, the line of his body tense and distressed, but he soon relaxes when Jean resolutely stays on the other side of Mikasa. He and Eren start bickering when Jean pulls food out of the cooler he brought, but slip into silence when they both catch the blonde kid staring at them with wide and curious eyes. Eren holds out a cherry tomato in the palm of his hand, and Jean’s breath catches in his throat, a weird mix of anticipation and responsibility and the knowledge born into his bones that the sea is dangerous and unpredictable. The kid plucks the fruit out of his hand and stares, as Eren mimes eating, grabbing another and chewing it in big, over- exaggerated movements, until the kid catches on and puts his own tomato in his mouth. There’s a glimpse of sharp teeth when he opens his mouth, and something uncomfortable settles in the pit of Jean’s stomach, but Eren’s either oblivious or he doesn’t care. Maybe he’s seen them before. Eren swears him to secrecy when they’re leaving the beach, all deadly serious and intense as he usually is, but Jean waves him off. Jean’s lived in this town his whole life, knows every single one of the fishermen. Who’s gonna believe him?
They start bringing different foods to the beach every day. The blonde kid sways towards soft red fruits and cherry tomatoes, and Jean starts hypothesizing all kinds of food color theories until Eren tells him to shut up. Jean has a fit when Eren brings a jar of olives, going on about processed foods and sodium levels, but the blonde kid’s quite taken by the food. Eren says it’s the saltiness. Jean makes a face at him.
Jean stays on shore when Eren and sometimes Mikasa slip into the water to swim. Eren teases him about being afraid, and strangely, Jean doesn’t argue, just lets the comments wash over him. He’s learned plenty about the mermaid since he started coming down to the beach, just Eren’s observations, really, since, hello, mermaids aren’t supposed to be real, and he suspects it’s the long-running myths and superstitions that permeate the little coastal town, but he can’t let his guard down around something straight out of the stories of his childhood. He seems harmless, smiling bright when tomato seeds run down his chin, but Eren’s too trusting and naive, blinded by the intrigue and maybe something else (he’d heard the tales of mermaids seducing men and dragging them under the waves), and even Mikasa seems a bit on edge around the blonde kid. He’ll stick to the shore, thank you very much, but be ready to drag Eren out of trouble. God knows the guy needs all the help he can get.
It’s August and Mikasa’s been staying home the past few days, helping Jean’s mother in their garden or getting ice cream with a couple girl friends, mundane things, as Eren points out. Jean doesn’t blame her, though. Lately there have been worry lines around her mouth when she watches Eren run out into the surf. They’re on Eren’s perch, back to back with their toes in the water and throwing rocks as far as they can. The blonde kid’s basking in the sun- warmed water of his tidepool, white belly shimmering under the sun and his mess of golden hair floating in the water. Jean’s hot and irritated, considering wading back to the shore for a nap under some shade, when he sees the sharp point of a dorsal fin far out in the water. Sharks are rare sightings, not unheard of, but hardly ever seen in this area, and never this close to the shore. Especially when there’s nothing to feed on. He stands up, pulling disgruntled Eren with him, and feels a little tremble of nerves work its way through his fingers. They both stare, a little awestruck, perhaps a little afraid, and when Jean turns to look into the tidepool, maybe throw a rock to get the mermaid’s attention, he’s already leaving, swimming slowly in the direction of those sharp fins. He’s convinced that Eren would have dived in the water after the blonde kid, if he hadn’t still been gripped by Jean. They both stand on the rock, water trickling down their legs, peering out in the direction the blonde kid had headed. They catch the occasional splash of fins on the surface of the water, but then, for a few tense moments, nothing but the quiet rush of waves hitting the shoreline. Eren shrugs out of Jean’s grip and makes to slip into the water again, but Jean taps his shoulder and points.
There’s two of them, the boy flashing silvery white just below the water, and a darker one that moves like a shadow beside him. They weave around each other in spirals, darting close to the rock and then out to deeper waters, and then back again. Their fins kick out of the water in huge splashes, blue and silver, and murky green with streaks of pink, and then they’ll dive out of sight. They move too quickly beneath the water for Eren to make out what they’re doing, if they’re playing or fighting, but he feels a prickle of jealousy now that the boy’s attention is captivated. He and Jean stand on that rock for a half hour or so, scanning the surface of the water and pointing out movement, until it’s been several quiet minutes, and they’re both anxious with anticipation. Eren spots them first, rocking gently with the movement of the shallows on the sandy end of the beach. They’re pressed belly to belly, the boy bracing himself above the dark one, back arching and tail curling. The dark one’s hands move over the boy’s back, his waist, settling to the scaly curve where his ass would be. Jean stiffens and sputters behind Eren, face pinking with heat other than sunburn, and he splashes off the rock and back to the shore. Eren doesn’t understand what he’s watching, not completely, but it feels invasive and voyeuristic. There’s something basic and carnal in the arch of the boy’s body, the lines of his open mouth, the hands moving over him, and quietly, Eren’s following Jean back to the shore. It’s an early end to their day on the beach, the sun just beginning to set, and they trudge along silently, Jean embarrassed or flustered, who knows, and Eren pensive. They pick their way barefoot up the rocky path to the summer houses,and Jean makes a comment about horny mermaids that makes Eren’s blood run hot and his stomach tense with a twist of emotion he can’t quite define. But the quiver of Jean’s tight-pressed lips soon slips into a smirk, and then a grin, and low chuckles tumble out of his mouth, until they’re both guffawing and pushing at each other in the dim light. When Jean asks him, demands, more like, to hang out that evening, Eren, for the first time, says yes.
He slides into bed late, drunk and hot with sunburn, his thoughts a jumble of bare white skin and sharp teeth and the grin that cut over Jean’s face when Eren made him laugh. The air prickles hot over his skin, sweat clinging to him, in the dip of his spine, the crease of his elbow. His fingers tremble against his stomach, his mind a mess of images and feelings and the soft, slow curl of lust that makes him shudder and breathe harsh into the still night air.
He doesn’t go back to the beach until the last week of summer, caught up in Jean and his friends, getting up early and driving an hour inland to spend the days under hot sun. It sets a little nervous flutter in Eren’s heart when he thinks of toasting beers and bumping arms and warm skin, of Jean’s smile and his eyes reflecting bonfires, fireworks. He feels like he’s missed out on something this summer, it slipping through his fingers like sand before he could quite comprehend what it was. He hasn’t forgotten about the boy, not at all, but he feels petty and spiteful ever since that day with the dark one. He dreams some nights, of silver and seawater and arching backs and fingers tangling in his hair. He wakes up breathless and sticky, with an aching in his chest.
When he does go down to the beach, finally, a bag of blueberries in tow, the boy’s sitting in the sun on Eren’s perch. It’s the first time Eren has seen an expression similar to emotion on the boy’s face, besides joy and curiosity. There’s a pout on his mouth and hurt in his eyes, and Eren feels guilty now. He settles next to the boy and holds out a palmful of blueberries, purple juice spreading when they’re crushed against his skin. The boy eats them slowly, tail flicking slowly in the water, holding out his hand for more when he finishes. Eren watches him eat, the quick chews of sharp teeth, juice running from the corner of his mouth, down his neck. There’s scarring on his shoulders, his sides, scars Eren’s fairly certain are new, and he runs his finger along one stretching the span of the boy’s ribs. The boy’s skin tightens beneath his fingers, cool and clammy, muscle shifting beneath the surface. He swallows another handful of blueberries and tilts his head to watch Eren’s hand run along his skin.
The boy’s hand is sticky with juice when it wraps around Eren’s wrist. He draws the warm hand up his cool chest, holding it over the space of his heart. Eren can feel nothing under his fingers. The boy turns to face Eren, eyes wide and blue and dark, tumultuous as storm-water. Eren’s lost on the edge of a precipice, all of Jean’s hesitations and Mikasa’s silent warnings playing through his mind, but he’s drawn forward by a presence stronger than memory, sliding off the rock and into water.
The tide’s up, and the water’s much deeper than he expected. He sinks under, feels pebbles and sand kick up under his toes. Fingers in his hair and cold water against his face, but it does nothing to cool his skin. He pops up for air, and the boy’s moving around him, tugging on his shirt, his pants, and Eren laughs, the sound echoing dreamily along the empty beach. He dunks under again, squinting his eyes open in the foggy water. The boy’s near, his tail curling close around Eren’s legs, hands twisting in the fabric of the shirt, and it makes him shudder. He thinks of the times his hands have wandered beneath his sheets, dreaming of silver and breathless cries and work-rough fingertips curling into his own, and his stomach clenches.
He’s slower coming up for air this time, bubbles escaping from his mouth, and he takes great heaving gasps when his head breaks the surface. The boy comes up with him, wraps his white arms around Eren’s neck and twists his mouth into a kiss. It’s not tender, no soft touches or sweetly innocent presses. It’s savage and cold and sharp, and there’s blood in Eren’s mouth, but he just wraps closer, presses his belly to the boy’s, like he’d seen the dark one do, and it makes the slippery body under his fingers shudder. The boy pulls them under again, his tail moving in warm friction against Eren’s front, and it makes his back arch, his skin prickle. The boy tilts back, his mouth falling open and Eren’s blood floating like silk in the water. He sighs, like the breeze on a perfect day. Bubbles slip out of Eren’s mouth, air a hazy memory in the back of his mind, but when he opens his eyes again, the boy’s ethereal, shining and beautiful in the water, and there’s nothing more important.