Chapter Text
How many people could say that they were neighbors with a merman? Certainly not many, given that merfolk weren’t meat to be existing in the first place! For how crazy, unbelievable, bizarre, shocking and utterly incredible it was, yet, the one to be swimming merrily in lazy circles inside the pond of your propriety was, indeed, a merman. At first, when you had returned inside the safe refuse of your cottage, taking a shaky step one after the other, you had believed you had hallucinated the whole meeting with that merman. Those bright blue eyes and that smile that shone of a refulgent hope, that kind of smile that makes you feel as if every worry you have will vanish, were still freshly printed inside your mind. You just couldn’t shake up the lingering feeling of his skin on yours, which contact you could still feel, flickering in its fading, clearly branded on the way his strong arms had supported you and his warm chest had welcomed you, saving you from a much dreaded fall inside the flat surface of the pond. Those little fleeting shivers that his arms had left with the softest of the fashion were the proof of a contact with him, your warranty that your body had savored the sensation of his flesh and bones under its surface, a proof of the fact he was very much real.
What was bubbling, stirring itself and molding in a powerful feeling that the merman felt every passing hour could be classified as “Pothos”, which is one of the facets of love according to the Greek Mythology. Pothos is a side of love that describes a particular type of said profound feeling: longing, an heartfelt desire for something you admire from a distance and which you long to hold in your arms for your desire to be quelled. A love for somebody you dote on, admiring them from a far in their sheer beauty and rawness of the moment, something unreachable to hold yet too close to not fantasize having in your arms.
Yes, Bruno, the mythical merman you had encountered in your last incredible meeting, was, indeed, a figure that ought to be inside the books of folklore, legends and stories and yet, had failed to pertain only to the realm of fantasies. Now, he resided in the lake adjacent to you little cottage, that cottage you had dreamed to live in all your life. He was an unforeseen treasure, an unexpected gift that not even in a million years you could have predict the presenc of. And yet, you had met him, interacted with him and even came in direct physical contact with him. There was no way this whole scenario, with tasted much like a midsummer dream or, maybe, even a fable, was only a figment of your imagination or an hallucination owed from too much time under the warmth of the Sun. You hadn’t grown lightheaded, you hadn’t started to product mirages out of the stuffiness of the summery weather nor had the Sun induced you to envision a scene that wasn’t materially real. No, you still felt the last remains of the delicate imprints the water had left on your skin when his digits had pressed on your shoulders to stabilize you from the peril of the fall inside the waters. Were those little imprints just a fruit of your fantasy? No, they weren’t, just like Bruno wasn’t, that much was true. No matter how strongly and stubbornly you stayed wresting with your mind and doubts about what you had just experiences on the pond, no matter from how many different perspectives you tried to analyze the situation, the outcome was always the same: no, it wasn’t a dream.
When Bruno had thought that humans tend to be scared another being that is different from them and can be deemed to be a menace, he had been, indeed, right. Humans have, most of the time, an instilled fear of seeing their right of predominance over the other beings that roam upon Earth as something that can mine the security they have and overthrown their sovereignty. He didn’t recall any other meeting with the human kind if not for the kind lady that had rescued him, but the dormant memories of his childhood, somehow, kept him suggesting him that, more than once, humans tend to attack something they deem dangerous for themselves, without taking the time to fully understand it or see eye per eye with it. However, this implication didn’t mean he generalized or applied a extremist point of view on human kind, if anything, he thought that Evil and Good both coexist in this game of chess played by Fate and as sides of the same coin, the one is born with the other. Humans could be evil, like the hunters that had plucked out of his natal home but humans could be kind, too, as testified by the actions of kind lady that had housed him all those years and now, you.
If there was an evident talent that Bruno had, it was the one to understand when people lied or weren’t true to their essence. He had been studying you from the first moment you had stepped foot out of your truck, while welcoming your life in the new house in the countryside. Even if you hadn’t been aware of him spying on you from a far, those were, exactly, the most fruitful moments for Bruno: without knowing you were being observed, you would behave with an extreme genuine vibe and pure authenticity. In fact, unknown to you was the fact that he hadn’t rushed the process of encountering you but he had waited, appositely, to observe how you behaved and perhaps, even understand who you were.
The first day he had seen you he had thought you were only a passing visitor, maybe somebody that had came to see the house, since it was still on sale. Nonetheless, after one day, you had started to come out more and more and soon, he was hooked in discovering more about you and that genuine kindness he detected in every move or little gesture you made, be it tending to the blooming bouganville that clang on the old walls of the your little garden or in the way you sat in the wooden swing by the shore of the lake he inhabited. And in the same kindness he had observed you showcasing, while you tended to your little plants with utter carefulness and attention, he understood that your spirit was forged from the same substance of Good.
Maybe, this was the nuance of sentiment that could, most likely, describe the of new surging feelings that bubbling inside Bruno’s being, reverberating inside the walls of his heart, that for too long had to be lonely and eager to meet a companion that could quench the internal solitude he had felt every day of his life. He didn’t know much of the human world by direct experience, everything he knew was a product of narration, perpetrated by his need of knowledge for a world so different from everything he had ever known.
Every information he owned, had been disclosed to him by the kind lady that had took him in and provided him with the refuge he had sought out, when he was too young to even remember his origins. But sometimes, the past can be overlooked in spite of a present much more radiant and beautiful than the misery that was swallowing him all, entrapping his fins and spotted tail in an infinite whirlpool of nothingness. Within your arrival, he saw new horizons and new brand start, for you two together, as a human and merman friends.
…or maybe even more?
As the question tended to linger on Bruno’s mind from time to time, it was inevitable for you to come to the realization that: one, he was indeed real and two, his intensions seemed to be solely positive in your regards. Would you like to know why? Well, it is quite easy. You see, dear readers, some days after your encounter with Bruno, it was still late morning and of you, there was not even a trace outside in the little garden. Habitually, you would be already out basking in light of the newborn Sun, even smiling when a little shiver gifted by the morning breeze brushing against you. From all data he had collected in his hours of observation, to Bruno was crystal clear that in the morning you could be found in the little garden. Another thing he had observed was that, sometimes, you even played a song in a old radio while preparing your breakfast to start the day with a positive note. And between the rays of Sun getting warmer and the increasing haze provided by the midsummer heat, the picture that was being painted was the one of you humming along the song played on the radio and Bruno curiously listening from the outside, courtesy of your window, left open to let the light shine in your little kitchen.
Bruno would listen closely to the music you would choose, because, somehow, it was another method for him to discover more about you or what you liked to listen to. After all, for his kind music was vitally important, to the point he had concentrated every remaining ounce of hope in the “Mr.Sandman” song that had been taught to him by the old lady. Maybe he could decipher all the words enlisted in the lyrics that the calm breeze brought to his pointy ears, but, at least, he could enjoy the melody and even understand some words. It wasn’t a song sung in the Italian language he remembered learning, but for him, it was enough to try to understand you better. In a sense, it was a little hobby he had discovered himself mastering, given that he enjoyed discovering more and more about you, just like completing a puzzle piece by piece. And every little piece he added, the more he felt prone to approach you. So when he finally had done it, the only thing left for him was trying to see how you would have reacted to him… and, well, at first he had thought that everything was going to be fine since you had seemed to accept him and even wave to him. It was only logical to deduce that you were okay with his presence and maybe, just maybe, you would have come out again, not afraid of him or of what he was. You weren’t afraid of him, right?
But then… why weren’t you coming your of your little cottage? Had it been only an accidental little delay or…had you been scared by him, after you had realized he was a merman? Was something he had done? Or said, in that broken Italian that he so desperately wished he could speak better to communicate better with you? He frankly didn’t know and at this point, Bruno was getting quite antsy after not getting any information about or your whereabouts. The only thing the merman knew was that he dreaded to discover that you, too, had been washed by the tidal waves of Time like the old lady had been.
He tried to console himself, then, trying to hum the song he remembered you playing in the mornings. How did it sound, again?
“ ♪ She lives in a daydream, where I don't belong
She is the sunlight, and the sun is gone ♪ “
Yes, without you the mornings seemed to be duller and lifeless, more than those he had endured alone. Maybe he had been too precipitous in hoping he had found somebody to share his life with?
He wanted so desperately to discover where you were but, alas, he knew that if he manifested too much of his apprehension, he could scare you away even further. Therefore, he tried to mitigate his worries trying to call for you once in a while, but without any result. On the third day of absence, he resorted to even bring you a shell necklace as a token to ask for forgiveness for any offense he could have caused, if that was ever the case. And yet, still nothing: he found the necklace untouched, there where he had carefully placed it, on the bank of the little pond, which meant you hadn’t come out at all, not even at night, when he had left to leave you some space, if you were requiring it and refusing to come out in his presence.
Yes, Bruno didn’t know if you were still inside your cottage or you had left, but what was clear for him that after four days you were missing. And he… was missing you, too, terribly.
After not getting any tangible proof of you or even catching a little musical note of the song you would play in the background as you stirred your preferred beverage to accompany your mornings, Bruno started to get truly worried over where you could be and it wasn’t as if he could grow legs and just knock on your door to see if you were there, therefore the only thing he could do was wait. And hope, to see you again, sooner than later hopefully.
And you? Where were you?
Well, if Bruno had started to be terrified by the prospect of having scared you away with his nature, the truth was that, yes, you weren’t home, but not for the motives Bruno believed in. In fact, the morning after your first meeting with the merman, you had received a call by your cousin’s wife, communicating to you that he had fell ill and asking for you to watch over their little son as she had to go to the hospital where he had been hospitalized. After hearing such tremendous occurrence happening to your dear cousin, which had always been cordial and welcoming with you since your teenage years and was the one that had actually suggested for you to come live in Italy, you had been quick to pack some outfits and your essential belongings, before rushing to his house in order to be of any assistance, forgetting, for the moment, that a lonely merman awaited for you in the little pond.
But the truth was that you hadn’t forgotten about Bruno or you even feared him, like he pictured in his mind, already letting paranoia and too many years of solitude pollute his thoughts. The truth was that there was that every time you napped on the table after putting your cousin’s son to sleep or when you prepared dinner for your cousin’s wife that came home very late from the hospital, only to return there after her meal, there was not a time Bruno didn’t swim in your thoughts or dreams. Every time you opened your eyes after dozing off, you could still feel that warm and welcoming halo in which his embrace had enveloped you or the way his eyes shone when you had repeated his name.
“Name Bru-no”
You had recalled how he had introduced himself, speaking in such a velvety voice, yet in such broken way that totally gave away the fact he hadn’t any companion to talk with. You had wondered how things were going in your little cottage and most importantly, the merman didn’t dare leaving your questioning mind not even once. Was he okay? How was he doing? You even questioned yourself about why were you getting so concerned about his wellbeing, because, after all, he was a merman that could fend for himself just fine and you doubted he would have any problems, if he staid hidden just like he had done for all those days you had not been aware of his existence. And yet, in the hopeful glance he had thrown your way before disappearing inside the pond, you had read a raw emotion that could be sublimated into only a feeling: hope. Hope to see you again, maybe. Not even knowing, both you and Bruno had been waiting the one the other and the other way around. As the four days became a week, finally, your cousin’s health seemed to improve, allowing you a much needed sigh of relief and, even and finally leaving you a spare moment to return to your little cottage in order to relax a little after all the chaos that ensued in your life.
After a week of stress and barely getting any quality sleep, to say that you were destroyed and truky fatigued could be quite the understatement. Yet, in your mind, a thought for Bruno was always welcomed, never ceasing to spin inside your mind. How he would react after not seeing you for a week? Your last interaction had been quite a strange one, but, somehow, you felt as if for how silly it had been (given that you had literally fainted after seeing his tail…) it was a good start. No, you didn’t fear him and yes, for how much incredible it was, he was real, just as real was the fact that he wasn’t a menace to you. He had clear eyes and in them, even from a far, you had read a desperate call for companionship, a call that had began with your first interaction. And well, if his faint touch had been a lie, then you would have preferred to be in the wrong than to admit that none of that incredible encounter had really taken place.
But, just while pondering about Bruno, your eye had been quick to catch a glimpse of a little marketplace on the road to return to your little cottage. Parking the truck you had used till that day to move in the Neapolitan country side, you had decided to stop there to purchase something, given that with the recent happenings, you hadn’t anything to eat since you hadn’t gone to the market for over a week. The marketplace was full of booths full of colors and life, featuring the ones that sold vegetables or fruits harvested in the Italian golden fields to the most peculiar ones, like a specific booth that had attracted your attention while paying for some fresh bread. The booth that had conquered your curiosity seemed to be quite different from the others you could experience seeing: in fact, it seemed to display items such as golden and silver jewelry, painted glasses, nacre combs or dainty hair ornaments. As your eyes has shifted themselves between the combs and the hair pins, in a flash you had remembered that Bruno wore two matching embroidered pins, very similar to a golden pair that shone under your eyes. The only difference was that Bruno’s seemed to be quite consumed by the action of time, even appearing to be dulled in their shining. And, as you had raised your eyes to the ones of the seller, she seemed to read your mind as she understood that you were, probably, thinking about buying them.
The fresh picture of Bruno wearing that exact matching pins was quick to paint itself in your mind: silky tresses, black as onyx featuring two shining little dots, namely the pins. He would look breathtaking with them on his long hair and the more your fantasy splurged on that mental image, the more you convinced yourself that buying that matching set could be a cute gift for him, both to apologize for disappearing so abruptly without even a word and to inaugurate a new friendship bond, if he was to accept your gift. Much like him, you dreaded he could have been feeling ignored or not accepted by the fact you had been so hasty in your rush to leave your home and be of assistance to your cousin’s family, therefore you hoped he would understand the situation and, in the best of cases, accept the apology.
As you paid for the two pins, eager to show your little gift to Bruno. You truly hoped he would accept it and even wear them, given that he seemed to be so hopeful you would return.
Leaving the marketplace with your purchase, you put yourself back on dusty road, ready to return to your little cottage and discover how Bruno had been for over a week. While you tapped your fingers on the steering wheel, the same beating sounds were in synchrony with the drumming produced by Bruno’s heart, there where you didn’t know that the same merman that had been at the center of your thoughts was currently sulking at the bottom of his little pond, humming his song, which served as a mere conselation for the merman that so eagerly awaited for your return.
Mr. Sandman, the one the old lady had taught him to consign his dreams to, had brought him a dream, yes, that much was true. But just as plaintive and brittle as a dream, your presence had vanished in the fumes of the morning, without even a word, without even saying goodbye. If you were truly gone or you had decided to ignore his presence, Bruno didn’t know. He could only shift from humming him song to the one you played, while passing his long talons on the icy surface of the shell necklace he had manufactured for you.
He repeated the words inside his mind, trying with all his might to tie the coherent pronunciation but in failing in doing so. What he understood of those words was what he had recollected from his memories about the language you spoke and his translation skills had lead him to the conclusion that in order to hold you, he had to bleed. And bleed he did, of lonesome.
“She lives in a daydream, where I don't belong”
Then, he had looked at his tail, cursing his marine nature for not having the chance to reach you like any human could. He couldn’t walk, he couldn’t run to where you were, he couldn’t even communicate with you without feeling the terrible urge to feel understood. Because within your presence he had seen the chance to not be lonely anymore, to have somebody that could…just belong with him, in that strong desire to hold close that the concept of Pothos describes so vehemently.
But, maybe he had been too optimistic in thinking the dream could be transformed in a reality. Because yes, you too, lived in a daydream, where he was too different to belong. Everything seemed to have dulled and Bruno couldn’t help but wonder if that time in which he had caught in his arms, the Sun had always been so radiant, because now, even basking in all its glory, all he could feel was cold. Indeed, it was true: experiencing your absence, was like witnessing the Sun waning. Would its light shine upon Bruno again? For now, the merman remained in his pond, wondering when you would be back, with nothing else to hold if not the shell necklace and those last notes of the song you played in the morning and that described, exactly, like the lonely merman was feeling:
“ She is the sunlight, and the sun is gone"