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The aquarium is empty at this time of day. Morning sunlight filters in through crystalline water, casting rippling shadows over coral reefs and wriggling anemones. As Dream walks by, schools of fish swim frenziedly, as if wishing him an enthusiastic good morning.
He makes his way to the employees-only door, nestled in the back of the jellyfish exhibit, and pushes it open. Immediately, he’s greeted by the scent of salty seawater and days-old kelp. For some strange reason, whether it be his overwhelming passion for marine life or just being used to the smell, it’s oddly soothing.
Dream stuffs his belongings into his locker and changes into his wetsuit, a short-sleeved black and neon green one that feels tight and itchy when it’s bone dry. He slips his journal out of his bag — it’s old and tattered, the pages wrinkled from water, but it’s special and uniquely his.
Quickly, he shuffles past holding tanks for fish and plants that aren’t on display to the public, deemed too weak or new to the aquarium, and grabs a bucket of mackerel from the fridge. He walks outside to the dolphin enclosure, the bucket tapping against his thigh with each step.
The enclosure is a massive, deep pool of water surrounded by lush greenery. On top of the water, wooden decks stretch far out to reach the depths of the enclosure nearer to the middle.
As soon as Dream approaches the water, a few of the dolphins begin to chatter excitedly and swim up close to the deck in anticipation. When they catch sight of the bucket, one dolphin sticks its head up from the water.
“Hey, Oscar,” Dream mumbles, reaching out to stroke the dolphin on his head. “How’re you doing today, buddy?”
Oscar, much like the rest of the aquarium’s dolphins, is a rescue saved from the ocean. He’s the newest addition to the dolphin pod, and the youngest — he was found stranded from his mother at just a few months old, much too young to survive on his own.
But for the past few weeks, his growth has been slowed and his behaviour abnormal. He’ll come out during feeding times, but will retreat back down to the bottom of the enclosure as soon as he grabs hold of a few fish.
“You’re looking a little bit better today, huh?” Dream asks, gently petting the smooth skin on his dorsal fin. Oscar chirps in response.
Dream sets the bucket down on the wood and begins to flip through the pages of his journal. It’s messy and unorganized, filled with notes about each dolphin in the enclosure and various sketches. He jots down the date and a few lines about Oscar’s behaviour before switching the journal out for the mackerel.
Soon, the other dolphins are all gathered up around the dock. Dream does a quick headcount, checking all the dolphins over. Grimacing, he reaches a gloved hand into the bucket. The fish is slimy and smells rancid — but the dolphins seem to like it enough, so he tosses a few up and watches as the larger dolphins jump to catch the fish mid-air. They land with a splash, casting little droplets of water all over Dream’s body.
Oscar’s the last one to receive any food, waiting patiently in the water. He’s been getting slightly slimmer lately, so Dream makes sure to toss him an extra fish.
But Oscar doesn’t guzzle down the food, doesn’t let it fall down his throat and ask for more like the other dolphins. Instead, he holds the mackerel gently in his mouth and swims off to the west side of the pool.
“What the hell,” Dream mutters.
He stumbles, leaving the bucket on the dock and nearly tripping over himself trying to follow along. Oscar’s fin shoots through the water determinedly until he reaches the far corner of the enclosure, diving deep down.
Dream runs up to the edge of the water and peers inside, but sunlight bounces off of the surface instead. All he can see is his own reflection, looking slightly frazzled as he thrusts his hand into the water. Ripples morph his face until he’s blurry and unrecognizable.
He stands back up, looks around to see if anyone’s watching, stares stubbornly back down at the pool —
And jumps inside.
Cold water surrounds his body immediately, soaking his wetsuit and stunning him for a moment. He comes up for air and shakes his hair out of his face, then dives back down to investigate.
Dream pushes himself forward in the water, getting closer and closer towards the bottom of the pool. Oscar’s nowhere to be seen — the only thing Dream can make out through the saltwater and chlorine stinging his vision is a few big, plastic balls for the dolphins to play with.
He comes up for air again in gasping breaths, treading in the water to keep himself afloat. His body is getting slightly more accustomed to the temperature now, no longer shivering. Dream front crawls across the surface this time, making his way closer to the back of the enclosure.
As he swims, he sees a trail of tiny bubbles under the water, making big loops. Dream frowns and moves deeper to get a better look, but the bubbles quickly rise to the surface and pop, as if they were never there at all.
Dream dives even deeper, near deep enough to touch the bottom of the pool with his toes. He whips his head around, searching for Oscar or for the source of the bubbles, but all he can see are the white walls of the pool.
Then, in the corner of his eye, there’s a flash of brilliant blue peeking out from behind a thick pillar. It’s jerked back nearly immediately, gone as quickly as it came. Dream swims up again and takes a deep breath, rubbing the water out of his eyes hard enough to see stars.
When Dream splashes back down into the water, he realizes that it’s not a hallucination — the blue is there again, waving in the water as if beckoning him to come forward.
Slowly, he pushes himself forward. He presses a tentative hand against the pillar. Even underwater, he can hear the noises of dolphins clicking. Water pulses in his ears, muffling every sound, but it’s unmistakable.
He doesn’t dare go up for a fresh breath of air, doesn’t dare to scare Oscar away. Dream pushes himself off of the pillar and peeks around, hoping to see the young dolphin swimming around with his food already swallowed whole into his stomach.
Instead, he sees a shimmering, cerulean blue tail. Dream’s eyes travel up hardened scales and delicate fins — until he reaches its base, where fish fades away into human.
Where fish becomes human. That shouldn’t be possible, can’t be possible, because Dream’s heard legends of mermaids but always brushed them off as fake. Since birth, he’s believed them to be nothing more than silly little tales that people tell their children.
Dream feels himself inhale involuntarily, and the burning sensation of salt water quickly fills his lungs and nostrils. He panics, flailing about and trying to swim back up, but the sensation stings him from the inside out.
Suddenly, there’s a pair of arms grabbing him by the waist and pulling him to the surface. It’s so fast that when Dream’s head breaks the seal between water and air, it’s painful and dizzying. The person — or thing, rather — drags him towards the dock, where there’s a ladder he can climb up to.
Vaguely, Dream registers the sound of more dolphin calls, clicking and chattering. Water splashes all around him as the dolphins leap in and out of the pool. He’s pushed up against the ladder, then nudged towards the steps, and Dream climbs up. He coughs and hacks saltwater out of his lungs all the way.
The sting bites his throat coming up and hurts in his nose — but when he’s finally done, he rubs at his eyes and slicks his hair back out of his face.
“Are you okay?” a gentle voice asks. Dream snaps his head around the dock, but it’s empty. “I’m down here.”
Dream peers down into the water, and there’s an ethereal-looking boy gripping onto the wooden ledge of the dock. His brown hair clings to his forehead, his skin shimmers ghostly pale, and his ears sprout a set of translucent fins. When Dream meets his eyes, he notices one iris is a swirling blue, the other a deep brown.
Beneath the water, past the boy’s hips, is the iridescent tail Dream saw earlier. It swishes back and forth in a rhythmic pattern. The colour matches his eyes, Dream thinks, and it looks pretty.
Dream coughs. “I’m okay.”
“That’s good,” the boy says. He swims a little to the side so he’s directly in front of Dream and flashes a brief smile. His teeth are pearly-white and his canines are a little sharper than usual.
For a human, at least.
“You’re a mermaid,” Dream splutters.
The boy scrunches up his nose. “Merman,” he corrects.
Dream nods, desperately trying to catch up. He’s barely even comprehended the merman in front of him when he blurts, “You’re not supposed to be here.”
The merman frowns. “I like it here.” He uses his hold on the dock to push himself up a little further, and Dream can see the scales of his tail a little clearer now. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Dream,” he says. He kneels onto the dock, slightly shivering from the cold, and holds out a hand.
“I’m George,” the merman says, and he tentatively takes the hand. Dream feels George’s hand, slick with water. “What’s this?” George asks, tracing the lines on his palm with a sharp fingernail.
“What’s wh —” Dream begins, until he realises George doesn’t know what a handshake is, because he’s not human. “Nevermind. It’s not — uh, it’s a human thing. A greeting. For people like me.”
“People like you,” George echoes. He furrows his brows as he examines Dream’s hand a little closer, then drops it back down.
“Uh, how long have you been living here?” Dream withdraws his arm and rubs it against his wetsuit.
George cocks his head and hums. “A while, now. Twenty-two nights, I think.”
“I just — I’m just confused,” Dream confesses. “Merpeople exist?”
George laughs, and it’s bubbly in the way that makes Dream’s toes curl. “Lots of us exist. We live far out into the sea. Land people can’t find us there.”
“I found you,” Dream points out. George laughs again. “What are you doing here?”
George frowns a little, and something in the water between them turns murky. “I’m lost.”
“Lost?”
“I got swept up into an ocean current and somehow ended up in one of your… land people water tubes. And I got stuck here.” He avoids Dream’s gaze.
“Oh,” Dream sounds. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s okay,” George says, offering a small smile. “I’ve got lots of company here.”
Dream shuffles a little closer on his knees. “Like who?”
“The dolphins,” George answers. He chirps and clicks, perfectly mimicking the sounds that Dream hears every day. “I can talk to them. Oscar brings me food.” The young dolphin emerges from the water and swirls around George’s tail, chattering happily.
“So you’re the reason why Oscar’s been eating less lately,” Dream says, the realization washing over him.
“Eating less?” George repeats, and he turns to Oscar, confused. “I didn’t know that. He didn’t tell me he wasn’t eating enough.”
The dolphin rises to the surface and chirps, loud and clear. George whistles sharply in response before Oscar dives back down, like he’s hiding his face. He clicks one last time, a hurried apology, before leaping into the air and swimming off. The splash sends a wave of water onto the dock, splattering the wood and knocking over the bucket of mackerel. George peers inside and seems slightly disheartened to find that it’s empty.
“My book,” Dream groans. He reaches over and thumbs at the wet pages. The paper was already wrinkled from past water damage, but this time the water has muddled his sketches and ink until it’s blotchy and blurred. He shivers, soaking wet and cold from the water.
“Let me see,” George says, and he peers over the edge of the dock. “Oh! I can help.”
George holds out a hand and claws his fingers, twisting something invisible in the air. Magically, the water on the pages slides up, up, and out, until it forms a massive, wriggling mass of water lifted high above the ground. Dream watches as it’s lifted across the dock — until it’s directly above his head. The bubble bursts, and it dumps the water onto his body, freezing him in shock.
“George!” Dream exclaims, and all the merman does is giggle at his misfortune. “Why did you do that?”
“Don’t worry,” he says, snickering. “I can fix it.” George holds out his hand again, this time clenched into a fist, and makes a face of concentration.
For a moment, there’s nothing, and Dream opens his mouth to protest — but then he notices the wispy tendrils of steam rising from his body. Water droplets sizzle away and his wetsuit dries, leaving his skin slightly pink-tinged and warm.
“You just boiled me alive!” he exclaims.
“It works though, see? All dry,” George says smugly. “Watch what else I can do.”
Dream watches in awe as George casts another squirming orb of saltwater into the air, focusing hard as he turns his hands back and forth, turning the blob into the shape of a leaping dolphin. Then, he holds out an open palm, and the water freezes in midair, falling down into the depths of the pool. George dives to grab it, his tail propelling him towards his target. He emerges just moments later, the ice sculpture held in his hand.
“Look,” he says, and sets the dolphin down on the dock. “I’ve been practicing that one.”
Dream picks it up. He gently turns the sculpture around in his palm, observing the little details carved into the ice. “You’re incredible.”
George grins, and he props himself up a little closer on the dock, opening his mouth to say something —
“Dream!” a voice calls from the pathway. Dream recognizes it as his boss, checking in on the dolphins before opening.
“George,” he whisper-yells, leaning down so he can hear. “You need to hide, now.”
George peers up at him with mismatched eyes, wide and unblinking, and before Dream can say anything further, George surges up out of the water. He presses a hand to Dream’s cheek and leaves a kiss on Dream’s right cheekbone, soft and sweet.
Dream stumbles back, cradling his face. The spots where George touched him feel wet and glossy. George smiles, all teeth and with his eyes crinkled up at the edges.
“Dream! Are you there? How are the dolphins?”
He scrambles to his feet and turns towards the path. “Doing good!”
There’s a splash of water, and Dream whips his head back down to tell George he needs to leave, go to the corners of the enclosure so that his boss doesn’t see.
But there’s nothing there, except for the ripples of motion left on the surface of the water. From a distance, George’s tail winks at him as it swims away.
The next day, Dream arrives at the dolphin enclosure an hour earlier than usual.
“George!” he calls, running up the dock. “Are you here?”
A head breaks the surface of the water, and George shakes his hair out of his eyes. “Is there anyone here?”
“Of course not,” Dream says. He sits down on the edge of the dock, cross-legged. “I got you something.”
“Ooh, what?”
Dream pulls out a metal bucket from behind him and shows George the inside. “I, uh, wasn’t sure what kind of seafood you eat. So I got you a bunch. There’s squid, sardines, catfish, shrimp, seaweed…”
George gasps as he takes the bucket. “Thank you,” he says, smiling genuinely. “I’ll have to give some to Oscar. I feel bad that he wasn’t eating enough.”
He lets the bucket float in the water, then whistles loudly. Oscar appears soon after, chattering excitedly, and he nudges the bucket away from the dock. George clicks again, and Dream assumes it to be a thank you.
Dream grins and shifts a little closer as he watches Oscar go. “He’s tricky, isn’t he?”
“He is! He’s always asking me to swim with him.”
There’s a lull in the conversation, and all that’s in the air is the scent of the fish and the sound of gently lapping water.
“How’s your book?” George asks.
Dream holds it up and flips through. The pages are no longer wrinkled, smoothed out like they’re brand new. “Perfect.”
George hums and scrunches up his nose. “What do you put in that thing?”
“Mostly notes, observations… drawings, sometimes,” Dream says. He rests the journal in his lap and feels the firm texture of the leather cover.
“Drawings?” George cocks his head, ear fins fluttering slightly, and he pushes himself a little higher up. His torso’s half on the dock, half submerged in the water. Water droplets cling to his skin and drop onto the rough wood. “What do you draw?”
Dream feels his face heat up — whether it’s from the confrontation or their close proximity, he’s not sure. “I draw fish, mostly. Basically, anything that lives in the sea.”
“I live in the sea,” George says matter-of-factly. “You haven’t drawn me.”
“You want me to draw you?”
“It’ll be fun,” George insists, resting his head in his palm. “You can write stuff down, too.”
“I mean — if you’re sure,” Dream stammers.
“I’m sure,” George says. His tail flaps behind him, slow and steady. “I trust you.”
Dream reaches behind him and grabs his pencil. He opens up a fresh page of his journal, the paper a crisp brown, and sketches out the structure of George’s face. He starts with the head shape, then the slope of his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw, the sharpness of his nose. It’s oddly intimate, and silent all the while as Dream refines the details in George’s wide eyes so that they’re perfectly George.
He works on the hair next, messy and half-dried. George’s hair curls across his forehead and reaches down to his delicately webbed ear fins. Then, the tail, powerful and majestic, scales coloured a brilliant blue. George does his best to sit still as Dream frowns and erases his pencil markings every time something isn’t quite right.
“Here,” Dream announces mere minutes later. He turns the journal over. “All done.”
The drawing is simple, just a quick sketch — but Dream thinks that it’s perfect, dynamic and full of life, just like George.
“It’s me,” George says, breathless. “Thank you.” His eyes sparkle, like sunlight hitting crystalline waves.
“You’re welcome,” Dream says. He averts his gaze back down at the book. “Okay, notes. You’re a merman…”
“I am.”
“And you eat…?”
“All kinds of small fish. Shrimp, oysters, crabs, clams, too. And some plants, too. We’re not picky,” George says.
Diet consists of a variety of small fish, crustaceans, mollusks, and aquatic plants, Dream writes.
He taps the end of his pencil against the paper. “What about measurements? How big or small do merpeople get?”
“Mm… all kinds of sizes, really. We’re like you land-people. Different measurements, different skin colours, different tail colours,” George explains, idly flicking water off of his tail. “This is fun. Ask me more.”
Physical traits vary, much like humans.
“Okay, what about culture? What do merpeople do that we usually don’t?” Dream asks.
George takes a moment to think. “I don’t know what your people usually do, but for us, we have our own cities and pods. And a set of customs.”
“Right,” Dream says, scribbling down notes. “Like kissing people on the cheek.”
George’s tail freezes. “What?”
“You know, like yesterday, when you left. You kissed me on the cheek to say goodbye.” Dream lifts his pencil off the page, pointing at his face.
George giggles, and for a moment Dream’s afraid that he’s somehow offended him. “That wasn’t a custom.”
Dream frowns. “It wasn’t?”
“No, you crab-head,” George laughs. The insult flies right over Dream’s head.
“What was it, then?”
George grins, and he traces the grain of the wood with his fingernail. “I kissed you on the cheek because I wanted to. Not because it was a custom.”
“Oh,” Dream breathes. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” George teases. “I like you. You’re funny.”
“You’re pretty,” Dream blurts. He’s slightly embarrassed until George laughs again, clearly amused.
The gap between them becomes increasingly apparent, George’s face mere inches from his own. George drips water onto Dream’s wetsuit, but it doesn’t bother him in the slightest.
George frowns, and he takes both of his hands to cup Dream’s cheeks. He bites at his bottom lip in concentration, refusing to break eye contact. Dream takes a breath to ask what’s going on — before George surges forward to press their lips together in a kiss.
It’s cold and wet and a bit messy, but somehow, they make it work. George holds his face a little tighter, Dream slides closer on the wet dock.
When they break apart, Dream still a little hazy and lost, he opens his mouth to say something — but George is already retreating back to the water.
“That was nice,” George says, cheeks dusted pink. “Will I see you again tomorrow?”
Dream nods dumbly. George flashes him a bright smile and dives off into the water, tail pumping strongly behind him.
Dream stands up, grabbing his journal and pencil. As he walks down the path, he flips through the pages of his book, smiling when he reaches George’s page.
Suddenly, there’s a splash of water, and Dream turns to see George soaring through the air, leaping out of the water. Two other dolphins are close at his side, jumping along with him.
Dream grins and shakes his head.