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Zayn stares at the cottage through the window of the cab. It’s a fair distance away and he’s not really looking forward to lugging his suitcase through the sand. It’s been ages since he’s been here and it looks great, the sand white and clean looking, undisturbed against the lush vegetation surrounding the house. It used to feel like a tiny piece of paradise to Zayn, now it feels more like a prison, the place he’s been banished to since the divorce has been finalized.
It took almost a year to split everything up, but in the end Liam had gotten most of it, their house, their car, their dog. Zayn has what’s in front of him, a tiny segment of beach and ocean, and of course the cottage. The summer home that he and Liam bought on their second anniversary, when they naively believed they’d want to spend time together away from the world, just the two of them. They could hardly stand living in the same house in the city; Zayn’s not sure why they ever thought this property would make things better.
“You need any help with your bags?” The cabbie asks and Zayn shakes his head, it’s just the two of them. Most of his stuff is in boxes, packed away in Niall’s house for him to get once he’s settled. Once the reality of the divorce being finalized hits him fully.
They’ve been separated for a year and a half, together for four after getting married on nothing more than a hope and a prayer, with a dash of lust, if Zayn’s being honest here. Marrying someone two months after knowing them isn’t the best idea Zayn’s ever had, in retrospect, but for a while Liam had been home, and they’d both been enough to make the other swallow every ounce of practicality coursing through their veins to take a leap and get married.
He pays the driver, mumbling for him to keep the change before he steps out of the car, already feeling the heat of the sand through his shoes, and moves to get his bags out of the trunk before he sets off towards his new home.
+++
Zayn spends the majority of his morning dusting the cottage, getting the windows open, and ripping the sheets off the furniture. There are traces of neglect everywhere, the dripping faucet in the kitchen, the thick layer of dust covering all the surfaces, and tiny protest the floor gives with every step he takes, the wood not used to being walked on.
The place is oddly empty, in the hollow sort of feeling one gets in their chest when they think about something awful for too long. Like buying this house in a state of bliss with someone he used to love. Or thinking about the summer they used up an entire year’s worth of vacation days to stay here, making love on this couch beneath him, in the bed down the hall, and on the sand outside his window.
Zayn hasn’t had any of those things, any of those positive memories in over a year, so it’s ridiculous that he’d begin to feel something about them now, when he’s the only person around for miles, sat on his couch at three in the afternoon nursing a beer.
He waits until he’s just starting to feel the affects of the drink before he puts the framed photographs of his past life away, not wanting the reminder grinning down at him while he drinks himself stupid. The last thing he needs to think about is Liam’s judging eyes and those little headshakes he gives him when Zayn’s doing something Liam thinks is particularly awful.
Zayn doesn’t need to deal with that shit; he divorced it for a reason.
Zayn just needs a minute, needs to escape from his brain for a night. The alcohol doesn’t help, only amplifies his feelings, but Zayn thinks the sound of the ocean hitting the shore makes up for feeling a bit like a failure. He couldn’t make his husband stay, didn’t even care to try anymore, and not even alcohol can make him feel the slightest bit better about living in a seaside cottage by himself.
+++
Niall calls him three days later, when Zayn’s feeling like he’s finally getting his shit together. Kind of. He’s gone back to the store to buy more than just alcohol, actually bought food and prepared himself some meals. He cleaned and fixed the leaky faucet. He unpacked his bags, folding everything and carefully placing them in the dresser.
He’s standing outside trying to figure out how to trim the hedges around the house when his phone goes off, ringing loudly from inside his pocket. A part of him is worried that it’s his mother, calling to offer him his old bedroom, like she’s been doing for the last year. Or maybe she’s calling to see if she can con information out of him, like his current mental state and how he’s doing now that the divorce is final at last.
Zayn feels a rush of relief wash over him at the sight of Niall’s name, already grinning when he accepts the call and presses the phone to his ear.
“I’m alive,” Zayn says as way of greeting, knowing that Niall was worried about him when he said that he was moving into a house away from everything except nature.
Niall laughs in his ear and says, “All right, ya shit. Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t drunkenly got lost at sea.”
“Ah, you know me, much too smart to do something like that.”
Niall snorts. “Wouldn’t say I know that, since I was calling to check.”
“All right, well, I’m alive. Haven’t even been near the ocean yet.”
“Isn’t it, like, four feet from your back door?”
“Yeah,” Zayn sighs, dropping the pruning sheers. He’s done enough today, these damn overgrown bushes can stay a little while longer. “It’s not that close, but it’s close enough.”
They talk for another fifteen minutes, Niall subtly asking him more questions to make sure that Zayn really was handling things well. And he is, Zayn had his moment of weakness and now he’s good, he thinks. Zayn doesn’t tell him about the drinking, because he knows Niall will call his mother, but he promises that he’ll call him again if anything comes up, if he starts to feel the pricks of self-deprivation stabbing at his insides again.
Zayn only manages to get Niall off the phone when he tells him that he needs a shower, but they’ll talk soon, arrange a visit so Niall can finally see the new place Zayn calls home.
+++
The sun is hanging high in the sky, directly overhead as the clock strikes noon. The heat has made Zayn feel sticky, his shirt clinging to his skin. It’s not entirely unpleasant, at least that’s the case when he shrugs off his shirt and hangs it over the fence of his deck, mindful of the chipping blue painted wood.
Now shirtless, Zayn uses the opportunity to lie out, absorbing some of the sun’s rays. It’s relaxing, lying on a lounge chair with his eyes closed and listening to the gentle movements of the ocean. There’s no one on the beach, this area secluded and tucked away from everything and everyone else. Not even the sand is disturbed by anything other than the wind and the animals Zayn’s sure live in the brush around the cottage.
After a while, Zayn gets brave, standing up to step out of his shorts. There’s no one around, no one to see him sunbathing in the nude. He has nothing to worry about, so he lies back down, closes his eyes and dozes off.
When Zayn wakes, it’s several hours later, just before sunset, just before the sky transforms and bursts with color. He feels rested and only slightly burned. He curses slightly when he sees the faint line to show the difference between his backside and his front.
He’ll have to do this again tomorrow, just to even himself out, if nothing else.
Zayn spares a moment, tossing his shorts over the banister to look out at the water. That’s when he sees it, a swimmer staring at him. He’s next to the little pier, bobbing in the water right in plain sight.
Zayn’s never seen a swimmer before, not in the waters outside of his house. Water that (if he wants to be an asshole) technically belongs to him, just like the land it’s connected to.
Zayn watches him for a long while, until he remembers that he’s completely naked, cock on full display. There’s no way that the swimmer can make out the fine details of his bottom half but it’s enough to make Zayn’s skin crawl, enough to make him rush back into the house, locking the door and hoping that the swimmer takes a hint.
When Zayn looks back out the window he’s gone, not a soul in sight, and wonders if he imagined the whole thing. A sun induced hallucination or something.
+++
Zayn doesn’t see the swimmer again until the next day.
He’s taking a jog along the shoreline, something he’s never done before. It’s hot, and he can feel the beads of sweat travelling down his bare back, where the sun is beating down on him. There’s sand and water seeping into his shoes, weighing him down. He makes a mental note that if he does this again - in the very distant future, because his legs are shaking already from exertion – that he needs to do this barefoot, or to at least run on the sand that’s not close to where the waves are crashing.
Zayn’s not even sure why he thought a run was a good idea, other than sheer boredom. Running was always Liam’s thing, Zayn was content to sit on the porch with a book and wait for him to get back. But there’s only so much to do when you’re living in isolation, so a jog had sounded fun. Obviously the heat is doing things to his head, because he’d have never thought that before.
The closer he gets to the pier, the better he begins to see the person bobbing in the water, hiding behind one of the support beams. They’re watching Zayn, whoever the person is, and Zayn feels a flare of annoyance as he remembers the person that was watching him tan naked. He feels even more irritated to know that this person has the entire ocean, but they’re hanging around Zayn’s pier. They’re hanging around his house, trying to get another pervy glimpse at him.
Zayn picks up the pace, ignoring the protest in his thighs, and makes his way towards the pier. He knows there’s no way that he’s going to sound threatening, or even a little convincing, with the way his breath is coming in quick gasps, and he can almost feel the contracting of his lungs as they work.
“You’re not allowed to swim here,” Zayn says, one of his eyes squinted shut so he can see properly.
The swimmer is cute, arguably. His hair is damp and brushed out of his face, but Zayn can see the curls, the twisting from where it rests on his shoulders. His eyes are green and shining, staring up at Zayn in curiosity, almost sparkling in the sunlight. Zayn can’t see below his shoulders, but there is a faint trace of ink lingering around his collarbones.
He’s not saying anything, just grinning at Zayn from his place in the water.
“Did you not hear me? You can’t swim here. It’s not open to the public.”
The swimmer wrinkles his nose at him, flicking some of the curls out of his eyes. “I can swim anywhere,” he says, his voice deep and slow.
“Well, I’d prefer if you didn’t swim outside of my house, is the thing. It’s meant to be a private beach.”
“I’m not on the beach, though.”
Zayn sighs, releasing a deep breath. He has to count backwards from ten, because honestly, this guy is just trying to be an ass at this point. “Listen, whatever show you got yesterday, it’s not going to happen again, so go home, man.”
The swimmer looks at him, blinking carefully. He’s still smiling, and it’s almost unnerving. It doesn’t appear that he’s heard a word Zayn’s said, especially when the next words out of his mouth are, “What’s your name?”
“What?”
“Your name, what is it?”
“Why would I give you my name?” Zayn says, folding his arms over his chest defensively. Who is this guy? Honestly, asking for Zayn’s name when he was the one spying on him, when he was naked, of all times.
The swimmer shrugs. “Mine’s Harry,” he says, smile disappearing for a brief moment as his lips move around the words. “Now you’re supposed to tell me yours, that’s how this works.”
Zayn looks at him for a moment, taking in Harry’s encouraging smile. It feels like all of his resolve is crumbling, because honestly, who smiles like that at someone who has just yelled at them? Kind of. Zayn kind of yelled.
Shaking his head Zayn says, “Zayn. I’m Zayn.”
Harry nods once and then sinks down under the surface of the water. Zayn watches him, sees a tiny glimmer in the water in Harry’s wake. He waits, but Harry never returns to the surface and Zayn only panics about him drowning for the rest of the night.
+++
It’s Zayn who finds himself at the pier the next day, dangling over the side of it in hopes that he’ll be able to see if Harry’s body is down there. He wasn’t able to sleep the night before, instead he lay there, tossing and turning, hoping that Harry didn’t actually drown himself after finding out Zayn’s name. There’s no way that could happen, and there’s also no way Harry could hold his breath long enough to swim out of sight, because Zayn had watched all directions, checking for a sign of the other boy, because when he said he didn’t want Harry swimming there, he meant in the future. Zayn didn't think Harry would just disappear out of sight, down into the water.
So Zayn’s looking for him in the water around the pier; it’s several hours after staking out the beach in the early morning light for Harry’s body. He wanted to make sure that Harry hadn’t washed ashore, because he didn’t want to deal with having to call the cops about a dead body.
“What are you looking for?”
Zayn jumps, slamming his head against the railing at the sound of Harry’s voice. “Oh fuck,” Zayn groans, rubbing at the knot forming at the base of his skull. “How in the hell did you get here?” Zayn asks, glaring down at him.
“I swam here,” Harry says. “What are you looking for?”
“I was looking for you. You never came out of the water yesterday; I was worried you had died.”
Harry grins, and it’s blinding. “You were worried about me?”
“I thought you died. You went underwater and never came back up.”
Harry looks confused for a moment, his eyebrow raised as he bobs in the water. “I had to tell Louis your name, and that you were pretty. He doesn’t think that you could be pretty.”
“Louis, right,” Zayn says nodding. There are a lot of questions to ask here, like who Louis is and why he’d think that, why Harry felt the need to tell him that, and then Zayn wants to ask Harry to repeat the part about him being pretty. He’d like to hear that again, especially from someone who looks like Harry does, even if he is a creep. Instead Zayn asks, “Does he spy on me too? Is that, like, a thing between you and your friends?”
“No, I went home to tell him.”
“And you came back, even though I told you that you’re not allowed to swim here.”
“I can swim wherever I want.”
“Yeah? Who says?”
Harry shrugs. “Everyone. No one owns the ocean.”
“I own that land up there, so this bit might as well be mine,” Zayn says, and he’s aware of how much of a pretentious asshole he sounds. “Besides, no one ever swims here.”
“I do,” Harry says simply, shrugging when Zayn glares down at him. “Why don’t you want anyone swimming here?”
“I don’t want anyone spying on me while I’m on my deck.”
“I didn’t see anything.”
“You were still spying.”
“You’re the first person I’ve seen here in a long time. What happened to the other guy?” Harry asks and Zayn stills, freezing, because the only person that Harry could be talking about is Liam. It’s been almost two years since he and Liam were here, and Zayn’s not sure what makes his insides feel all knotted and tense. If it was the mention of Liam or the fact that Harry has been keeping watch on him for so long.
“You’re not allowed to swim here,” Zayn says before he stomps off, up the pier and back towards the house.
+++
Zayn watches Harry through his kitchen window, the other boy still in the water next to the pier. He’s staring at Zayn’s house, watching to catch a glimpse of him. Or so Zayn thinks, anyway. He’s not sure what Harry really wants, or why he doesn’t call the cops. It’s not like they’ll do anything, just tell him to swim along, not much good that does.
Zayn tries not to think about him; instead he focuses on cooking himself dinner and listening to Niall ramble on about the latest girl that he’s met. Zayn doesn’t know why he called him, but it felt like if he immerses himself in someone else’s life for a moment he can forget the curly-haired swimmer watching his every move.
It’s not until sunset that Harry leaves, not like Zayn’s watching. He disappears into the water again; Zayn doesn’t see him come back up.
+++
As the early afternoon begins to approach, Zayn settles comfortably in the thought that Harry won’t be appearing at the pier today. It’s not like he’s been actively checking, but if he glances out of the window when he’s filling the kettle, doing his dishes, or just walking past it, then that’s just out of habit. Not because he’s looking for Harry. And definitely not because he feels bad for shutting down the way he did at the mention of Liam’s name.
It just…it wasn’t expected, is all.
Zayn’s sat at the edge of the pier, having carried down a chair and some fishing gear to pass the time. It’s peaceful, watching the movement of the water as he pretends that he’s going to catch something. It’s not likely, but there’s always hope.
“You shouldn’t do that.”
Zayn nearly falls out of his chair at the sound of Harry’s voice, his entire body startling at the sound of something other than the waves hitting the shore and birds flying overheard.
“That hurts the fish.”
“Why are you always sneaking up on me?” Zayn asks, clearing his throat when his voice comes out higher than intended. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing. I was swimming and saw that…that thing in the water. You shouldn’t do that, it’s not right,” Harry says, lifting himself up slightly to rest against the wooden surface of the pier. “It hurts.”
“What hurts?” Zayn asks, looking around in confusion. The only thing that hurt was the jump he felt in his heart at the sound of Harry’s voice, the way it stopped for a second before jolting back to life with a start.
“The hook, when it gets under the scales. It hurts, and it’s hard to get out. Humans never do it right, and that only causes more damage to the fish. You’re being really insensitive.”
“You’re talking about this?” Zayn says, motioning towards the pole in his hand. He sighs, rolling his eyes when Harry nods. “How would you know?”
“I just… I know, okay? So can you stop?”
“Oh god, all right,” Zayn groans, already reeling the line in. It’s empty, as he knew it would be. He hadn’t even felt the slightest jerk of the pole, Harry probably having scared all the fish away. “Wait, you said you were swimming. How come I didn’t see you?”
Harry shrugs, resting his head in his hands. “You just weren’t looking hard enough.”
Zayn nods, setting the pole down on the dock. Harry eyes it, distaste written all over his face. He’s content to not say anything; because there’s not much he wants to say. Zayn does think about maybe offering an apology for getting so pissy at him the day before, or maybe one for constantly demanding that he not swim near his house. It’s not a fair request to make when Harry’s been here longer than Zayn has, and it’s not like he invades Zayn’s space. He doesn’t get out of the water to peer inside of Zayn’s windows.
Harry just swims, that’s all he does. It’s hardly a crime.
“I’m sorry for what I asked you yesterday,” Harry says, breaking the silence.
“Huh?”
“You know, about the other boy. Louis said that probably wasn’t the best decision, so I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”
“I wasn’t upset,” Zayn says, trying to defend himself. He wasn’t, really. He was just surprised, that’s all. “And you don’t have to apologize; I was the one being an ass.”
“An ass,” Harry repeats, nodding. “Well, you weren’t happy.”
“That’s not your fault,” Zayn says, running his fingers through his hair. “Liam’s my ex-husband, I wasn’t expecting anyone to bring him up, not out here at least.”
Harry frowns, his face contorting into an angry sort of pout. He doesn’t look pleased at this confession, his arms folding over his chest. “Husband?” He says, spitting the word out like it’s toxic, like he hates it.
“Yeah, husband.”
“I should be going,” Harry says, pushing off of the pier, not making eye contact with Zayn.
“Wait. What?” Zayn asks, sitting up a little straighter. “You just got here.”
“And now I have to go,” Harry says, shrugging.
“Are you coming back?”
Harry stops, looking up at Zayn, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, would you like for me to come back?” He asks, twirling his hair around his finger. “I could stay. I’ll stay. I don’t have to go.”
“No, no,” Zayn says, waving him off. “You’re fine. I need to get started on dinner anyway; I’m starved. But like, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Harry nods, grinning as he sinks down into the water. Zayn makes a note to ask him about that, confused still about it all, about Harry’s inability to step out of the water and how he always leaves like that, slowly sinking beneath the surface and never coming back up.
Yeah, Zayn thinks, he’ll ask him.
+++
Harry shows up at sunset, when Zayn’s sat at the edge of the pier with his feet in the water, watching as the sky transforms across the water. Zayn won’t admit that he’s been waiting long, long enough for his shoulders to feel the heat of the day. But when the water around his feet begins to ripple with movement, Zayn knows that it’s Harry.
“You shouldn’t be in the water at this time,” Zayn tells him, his eyes trained on the horizon.
“Why’s that?” Harry asks, his elbow digging into the fleshy part of Zayn’s thigh.
“Isn’t this when sharks come out? Isn’t that, like, what they tell you?” Zayn asks. He’s never paid much attention to aquatic rules or superstitions, it’s not like he has any intentions of going into any body of water that’s deeper than his knees. Zayn knows that he’ll never be like Harry, he won’t feel content to swim around, spending most of him time hanging around a pier with a stranger.
“Sharks are always out, and they’re not as mean as everyone seems to think they are.”
“Yeah? And how would you know?”
“You’ll have to trust me.”
Zayn looks down at Harry, taking in his easy grin. He almost glows in the light of the setting sun, from his wild, curly hair to his skin; it almost shimmers in the light. Zayn can see his sparkle even under the surface of the water. He can see the way that the light is reflecting off his skin in the most majestic of ways.
“What’d you do today?” Zayn asks, because it doesn’t feel right to ask outright why Harry is just now showing up, why he waited until now to find Zayn. It’s not even…like, it’s not a thing. He’s just curious.
“Do you actually care?”
“Of course, yeah.”
Harry smiles, nodding like he’s satisfied to hear that. “My friend was stuck in a net, I had to help,” Harry explains, shrugging when Zayn raises an eyebrow.
“A net,” Zayn repeats, trying not to frown. “What do you mean a net?”
“Like the ones that boats use when they’re fishing and stuff.”
Zayn rubs at his jaw, pretending to understand. Pretending he believes Harry. “He a fan of the ocean then, like you?”
“It’s hard not to be when you’re us,” Harry says. “But I do think about land an awful lot. Louis doesn’t like that. He hates the thought of it, but…” Harry stops, shrugging. “That’s why I like to watch you. Not like…um, what’d you call me before?”
“A creep.”
“Yeah, not like a creep. I just like watching you on land. It’s fascinating.”
Zayn shakes his head, because Harry really is confusing in the worst kind of way. Talking about how he likes to watch Zayn because he’s on land, as though Harry’s never touched the surface before. Zayn has to suppress an eye roll just listening to him talk.
“You know, you could try just getting out of the water. You’ll probably find Earth to be really great like that, with both land and sea.”
“I guess I could,” Harry murmurs, picking at the surface of the pier next to Zayn’s foot. “If it were that easy.”
Zayn should ask what he means, and he’s not sure why he doesn’t, why instead he shifts his gaze back up to the sky to see the bursts of pink and orange begin to fade out.
+++
“You know, you could join me up here,” Zayn says, his eyes closed against the glaring sun overhead.
“Oh I’d much rather enjoy the view,” Harry replies and Zayn snorts, knowing that there’s a smirk on Harry’s face. The other boy already having made several remarks about how good Zayn looked lying shirtless on the dock trying to catch some sun while he chats with Harry.
“Your legs are probably whiter than the whites of your eyes since they’re always under water,” Zayn says.
Harry snorts this time, mumbling something under his breath that Zayn doesn’t quite catch.
“What are you babbling about over there?”
“I said it would do you some good to get into the water,” Harry says loudly. “How can you live in that house, next to this beautiful ocean and not use it?”
“I can’t swim,” Zayn replies, rolling onto his stomach so that he can fold his arms under his head and look at Harry.
Harry looks offended, like he can’t believe what he just heard, before he shakes it off. “Is that the same for all humans? I’ve always found it a bit odd how you all move around on those boats, disturbing the water and all that, sometimes even harming the animals under the surface. Is that why you do it? Because you can’t swim?”
“Well, I don’t pretend to know everyone, but no, it’s not an everyone thing. Just a me thing,” Zayn says, watching as Harry nods thoughtfully. “I mean, look at you. You can swim.”
“Well yeah, but like-“
“An obvious sign that other people can swim,” Zayn says, cutting him off. “Honestly, you’re practically a fish.”
“Well, I mean,” Harry stutters, biting down on his bottom lip. He looks nervous for whatever reason. “I could teach you.”
“Teach me what?”
“How to swim, of course.”
“No, thanks.”
“Come on, Zayn. It’ll be great. Nothing will happen to you, I promise.”
“Except for drowning,” Zayn says, watching as Harry rolls his eyes. “That could happen.”
“Not with me,” Harry promises, looking so horrifically sincere it makes Zayn’s stomach flip. But it’s not enough to make him want to get into the water.
“It can happen with anyone, like, drowning doesn’t just choose someone to be the exception. I could drown in my bathtub,” Zayn points out, nodding, because that’s very true. He could drown in a bowl of cereal, actually. It’d take some effort but he could do it. He’s not going to, but he could.
“Your bathtub?”
“Yeah, it’s deep enough.”
Harry nods, raking his fingers through his hair. “So you don’t use your bathtub, then?”
Zayn rolls his eyes. “Of course I do.”
“Then why don’t you use the ocean?”
“It’s dangerous.”
“No it’s not,” Harry shouts, offended. “No more than land.”
“When you know how to swim it’s not.”
Harry breathes out, staring at Zayn in annoyance. “Yeah, but I’m offering to teach you. I’ll help make it safe for you. Nothing will happen to you when you’re with me, I promise.”
“God,” Zayn sighs out, shaking his head. He feels like he’s being backed into a corner. He knows that Harry’s just trying to help but…Zayn doesn’t want his help. “Can we please stop? Please. I don’t want to get into the water, okay? That’s your thing. I’m happy here.”
Harry nods, casting his gaze down. Zayn feels bad, wants to apologize and tell Harry that he didn’t mean to snap. It’s just. It’s hard for him, and Harry is obviously fearless when it comes to the water, so he wouldn’t get it. He doesn’t understand what it’s like, the anxiety that sets in when Zayn thinks about it.
After a moment, though, Harry says, “Then why do you have a house here?” He looks thoughtful, like he’s trying to figure something out. “There are lots of houses with just land, I bet.”
Zayn sighs, sitting up slowly. He grabs the extra towel he brought down for Harry, the one he hasn’t used, and rubs some of the sweat off his face as he stalls for an answer.
“Liam got the house with just the land in the divorce. I got this,” he says, motioning behind him, shrugging.
“Divorce?”
“Yeah, when our marriage ended, he got to keep our other house. I got this one.”
“Can I ask why your marriage ended?” Harry bites down on his lip as Zayn sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “You don’t have to tell me,” he adds, looking like he’s about to dive back into the water and not resurface.
“We were young and stupid,” Zayn tells him, shrugging. That’s the simple version of it, at least. “We never should have gotten married. We didn’t really know each other. Or well, we did physically. Definitely physically, but not on any other level, so like, it was harder for us to be comfortable living together, doing everything together. We should have thought about it properly. Instead we spent our entire marriage getting to know each other.”
“So he wasn’t awful?” Harry asks, frowning, forcing a laugh out of Zayn.
“No, he wasn’t awful.”
“Do you still love him?”
Zayn shakes his head because he’s not sure their relationship ever really went there. He feels like they scratched away at the surface, tried their absolute hardest but could never make it, not like they were supposed to. Not like they had hoped or thought they would.
“No, I don’t love him,” Zayn says, knowing that it’s the truth. Harry nods, seemingly satisfied with that answer.
+++
As the month drags on, Zayn spends everyday out on the pier with Harry. There’s never a day where Harry doesn’t show up, gliding out of the water and hanging on the edge of the pier to spend his time talking to Zayn.
Zayn learns a lot about him, like how Harry lives with his friend Louis. And how he doesn’t have a job, but that doesn’t really matter, because he doesn’t need one. He doesn’t explain what that means, just says that he’s figured out how to manage without one. Zayn thinks it means Harry comes from a family with money, Harry doesn’t answer.
Zayn finds out that when he’s not with Zayn, Harry spends the majority of his time swimming around. It’s not a surprising fact; he sort of assumed that was the case anyway.
And when Zayn asks him why he never gets out of the water, why he drops down under the surface and never comes back up, Harry doesn’t answer. And as much as Zayn tries to force it out of him, he’s not successful. But Zayn figures that as long as he’s enjoying Harry’s company, it doesn’t really matter why he’s so obsessed with the ocean.
+++
Harry’s late. That’s the first thing Zayn thinks as he sits down on the edge of the dock. He usually shows up around noon, but it’s nearly two and he’s still not here. Zayn figures that he’s probably with Louis, doing something that Zayn doesn’t have the luxury to know about. He’s not jealous or worried; he knows that Harry will show up when he can.
Zayn stares down into the water below, trying to see if he can see Harry. He’s unsuccessful, though. He sighs as he stretches his legs out, carefully inserting them into the water. It’s work against his legs, lapping up with the waves to knock against his knees.
There’s nothing he can do but wait, staring out and watching the stillness of the horizon line. Zayn remembers once that his mother told him to focus there if he ever felt seasick, like he couldn’t handle the motion of the waves around him. It was when he was a kid, his first and last time stepping into the water. He’s not sure if it helps or if it was just his mother trying to settle his nerves.
There’s movement in the water and Zayn knows that it’s Harry, but it still doesn’t stop a bubble of panic from rising into his throat when he feels someone grab at his legs. He screams – it’s more like a very manly sort of shout, if anyone were to ask – and nearly dies of a heart attack when Harry finally emerges from underwater, a grin on his face.
“Did I scare you?” He teases, spreading Zayn’s thighs apart so he can settle between them, elbows resting on Zayn’s skin.
“Yeah, you fucking did. Do you know what could have been grabbing me?” Zayn says, trying to keep his voice at a normal pitch. “You could have been a shark or…an aggressive sea turtle. Or like a manatee on steroids.”
Harry wrinkles his nose, trying to fight back a laugh. “None of those things live around here. You’d have to go further west. They all know you’re here, they’d be stupid to try and come by.”
“Yeah, did you scare them off for me?”
“No,” Harry says, shaking his head. “Honestly, there isn’t any reason for them to come here. Nothing they eat is here, they know that.”
“They can eat me.”
“Sharks don’t hunt humans, Zayn. How many times do we have to go over this?” Harry asks, sounding exhausted. All Zayn can do is shrug, because maybe they have gone over this quite a few times, and maybe Zayn continues to bring it up any time he can. That doesn’t mean anything, just means that he’s trying to be aquatically safe.
“You always take the ocean’s side, never mine,” Zayn teases, trying his best to look angry. “Why is that?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Harry mumbles, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes, causing droplets of water to go in every direction, all over Zayn’s bare chest. “But I got you a gift anyway.”
“You got me a gift?”
“Yeah,” Harry says, tapping his closed fist against the inside of Zayn’s thigh. “Do you want it?”
Zayn nods, grinning down at Harry. He wants to ask what it is, because he can’t imagine anything surviving in the ocean without some kind of damage or surface change. Unless it’s waterproof, or maybe Harry put it in a little bag.
Which is…definitely not the case as Harry opens his hand to reveal the tiny little pearl stuck in the crease of his palm and his fingers, right where it’s folded to form a little cup.
“Is that?”
“It’s for you,” Harry says, dropping the pearl into Zayn’s hand when he holds it out.
Zayn doesn’t know what to do with this. He doesn’t—It’s a pearl. Harry bought this or found this or god, who knows with Harry. He could have been swimming around and decided to battle a group of clams—Holy shit, Zayn thinks.
“How did you get this?” Zayn asks, staring down at the pearl in his hand, watching as the sun reflects off the iridescent surface. “Did you buy this?”
“No, I got it from a clam.”
“You hurt a sea animal?”
“No, I asked for it,” Harry says, like Zayn was stupid for asking such a thing. “If you’re careful the clam will give it up, but it’s a tricky process. It took me ages, with no help from Louis.”
“Louis was with you?” Zayn asks, looking up at Harry.
“Yeah, he’s been trying to string together a necklace for his mother. He’s almost finished.”
“You’re weird,” Zayn says finally, closing his hand around the pearl. “But this is great. Thank you.”
Harry shrugs, dropping his hand down to rest on Zayn’s leg again, anchoring himself so he doesn’t drop beneath the surface of the water. “I just thought it would be something you’d like. Just wanted to make you happy,” he says, trying his hardest for nonchalant.
But the thing is, the thing that Zayn’s figured out these few weeks, is that Harry means it. Zayn knows how much Harry likes him, how much he cares about him. And he knows what a gesture like this might mean for Harry; how he’s hoping that Zayn would catch the hint that he’s dropping.
It’s not for Harry what Zayn does next; it’s for him when Zayn carefully sets the pearl in his shoe and turns back to look at Harry. It’s for him when he reaches out and brushes Harry’s hair out of his face, dragging his hands down to cup Harry’s jaw. Harry looks confused for a moment, his brows pulled together as he stares up at Zayn.
It’s not for Harry, it’s for Zayn when he leans down and presses his lips against the other boy’s. Harry gasps at the touch, his grip tightening on Zayn’s thighs. His lips are soft and Zayn’s tongue is hot as it sweeps across Harry’s bottom lip, right before his licks his way inside of Harry’s mouth. Zayn wants to pull him closer, wants to lug Harry out of the water and lay him on top of him, so he can feel the weight of Harry pinning him down to the pier. But Harry doesn’t move, just holds onto Zayn’s thighs and kisses him back, like it’s everything he’s been waiting for.
+++
The kiss doesn’t escape Zayn’s mind. It keeps him up at night, the thought of Harry’s tongue dragging against his. It’s almost too much, the way his gut twists in pleasure at the memory. It had been perfect, as far as first kisses go. A little awkward, Zayn having to bend his body to accommodate Harry being in the water, and how he just wanted Harry to touch him, any part of him, especially with the way his hands were holding onto his thighs, unmoving throughout the kiss.
So Zayn thinks about it all night and all the next day, until he finds himself sat on the dock waiting for Harry to appear.
It was a wonderful kiss, Zayn won’t deny that, but he wants to know why Harry wouldn’t get out of the water even for that. He knows how much he loved it, and he’s stopped trying to force him out weeks ago. But staying in while they kiss? That’s hardly something that Zayn can ignore.
“Hello,” Harry grins, dimple on display as he smiles, resting his arms on Zayn’s legs. This time they’re not submerged in the water, just folded underneath him as he sits on the edge.
“Good day?” Zayn asks, watching as Harry nods, brushing his damp curls out his eyes.
“Yeah, was swimming around waiting for you.”
“Yeah? I didn’t see you.”
Harry frowns, head tilted as he looks up at Zayn thoughtfully. “No, you usually don’t. Is that a problem?”
“I mean, not really,” Zayn says, shrugging. “I was just thinking, you know, like, about why you don’t ever leave the water.”
“Okay. And what did you come up with?”
“Nothing, which is why I was kind of hoping that you could fill me in on that one.”
“What do you—“ Harry pauses, clearing his throat. “What do you mean?”
Zayn sighs, rolling his eyes. It’s hardly the time to play dumb. Zayn doesn’t—he’s not asking something ridiculously hard. It’s an honest question that deserves an honest answer. “Why don’t you ever leave the water?”
Harry bites down on his bottom lip, staring up at Zayn. Zayn tries his hardest to make his face show Harry how he’s being serious about this, he doesn’t want Harry to avoid it. It’s just…it’s weird, is the thing. It’s weird. Even Olympic swimmers spend time out of water, but not Harry, he’s always in the water.
Several minutes go by before Harry pushes away from Zayn; slowly dropping back down into the water before all Zayn can see is his head. For a second he’s convinced that Harry is going to submerge himself completely and not come back, like he does when they say goodbye, but that doesn’t happen. Instead a fin comes out of the water, one that looks like one you’d find attached to the end of a whale, or at least according to the pictures that Zayn’s seen. It’s blue, with flecks of red, and it glitters in the sun.
Zayn blinks.
“What is—What’s. What’s going on?” Zayn says, watching as Harry lies back in the water, the fin moving down until Harry’s body is level with the surface, revealing the way his torso transforms into—well, it really can only be described as the body of a fish.
“Is that, like—They sell those, yeah? In the shops up the way, is that where you got that?”
Harry shakes his head. “Was born with it.”
“Born with it, right,” Zayn repeats, unable to take his eyes off the glinting blue of Harry’s bottom half. “So you’re like a—Um. Are you trying to say you’re a—Is like. Is this a prank? I mean, you’re not—you’re really not trying to tell me that you’re a mermaid? Right?”
“Man.”
“What?”
“That’s what you’d call me, a merman,” Harry says, dropping his…tail…thing back into the water. “It’s not that strange.”
“No, it’s pretty fucking strange,” Zayn says, because holy shit. Holy shit. This isn’t happening. This isn’t, like, Harry’s just playing a prank on him. Harry wouldn’t—But he looks so sincere and nervous, like he needs Zayn to understand and accept this.
But it’s just. It’s too much. Zayn doesn’t know what’s going on, he really doesn’t. It’s too much to process, too much to try and comprehend. His entire life he was told that this was a fantasy, a myth that couldn’t be true but here it is, swimming right in front of him.
Zayn doesn’t know what to do, so he does the only thing he can think of. He runs, scrambling back to his house, ignoring Harry’s calls for him.
+++
It doesn’t get easier to understand. Zayn spends the entire evening locked in his bedroom, pacing his bedroom floor, trying to figure out what is happening. There’s no way that any of this true, Harry just bought one of those stupid tails he’s seen advertised on television late at night. He’s just one of those people that wishes they were something else, something less human.
Zayn’s heard of people wishing they were goats, so Harry wanting to be a mermaid man isn’t too weird.
No, it’s totally fucking strange. It makes no sense. None. Not even a little bit of sense.
Zayn rubs at his face harshly, trying to see if he works hard enough that everything will click in his brain. Maybe if he takes a hot shower he’ll be able to understand all of this. Everyone does their best thinking in the shower, so that’s what Zayn has to do.
He grabs his towels off the floor, moving quickly to step inside the glass barrier, letting the water beat down on his skin.
It doesn’t help. Zayn steps out of the shower with his head still spinning, his entire body unable to grasp the situation.
+++
Harry’s waiting outside for him the next day, out in the water, obviously. He can’t walk on land, so it’s not like he’s pounding on the front door. Zayn watches him through the kitchen window, hiding a bit off to the side so that Harry can’t see him.
He’s not sure if it’s working, but when Harry’s posture changes, pushing up higher on the pier. Zayn panics, gripping onto the blinds and dropping them down, blocking Harry’s view.
Zayn closes his blinds that day, effectively shutting Harry out.
+++
It takes two days, two long days of hiding in his house and trying to pretend like he wasn’t catching feelings for a merman for him to realize that he’s being a complete and utter asshole to Harry.
It takes two days for him to realize that the only thing he did was make Harry feel ashamed of himself, feel ashamed of the person that he is, of things that he can’t control. Zayn knows what that feels like, and he never wanted to do that to someone else. So it comes as a blow to the gut when he realizes what he’s done, how awful he must have made Harry feel.
Zayn feels sick to his stomach for an entire day, lying in his bed and wishing that he could have done things differently. He should have stayed, should have talked it out. Zayn should have let Harry explain, because there’s an entire world under the water that Zayn doesn’t know about, that he doesn’t understand.
And maybe Zayn should have stayed long enough to make sure the last thing Harry heard from him was not a statement of how strange his existence is.
It’s too late now, though, there’s nothing he can do until morning.
+++
Harry’s not there when Zayn makes his way down to the pier the next morning, a pair of grey skinny jeans on and not much else. He wants to apologize, wants to tell Harry how sorry he is for what he’s done.
Zayn takes a seat at the edge of the dock, willing his eyes to break through the water and find Harry. He’s unsuccessful, as he knew he would be. But he’s content to wait, content to wait until the other boy shows up.
Zayn waits until the sun sets, when the sky has changed to black and the stars are shining brightly in the sky before he accepts that Harry isn’t coming. At least not today.
+++
Harry doesn’t show up the next day either. Zayn waits from sunrise to sun down, watching every ripple of the water, wanting so badly for it to be the other boy. It never is though, and Zayn’s beginning to worry that he might never see Harry again. And it’d be entirely his fault.
+++
Zayn doesn’t bother watching the water today; instead he lies back on the dock with his eyes closed, humming quietly to himself. If Harry’s around then he’ll see him, he’ll know where Zayn is. If Zayn hears something getting out of the water then he’ll sit up, until then he’s going to watch the red of his eyelids, still holding onto the hope that Harry will come out and talk to him.
Zayn was an ass, but he just wants to talk. He’ll manage if Harry never wants to see him again afterward, he thinks. He’d like to hope, anyway. It’d be an awful change of routine; he’s not sure how he’ll manage living alone in this seaside getaway without the…merman.
It’s surreal to think about, how Zayn has spent the past month and a half with a sea creature believed to not exist. It’s strange but exhilarating, to know that he has a little inside to the world around him that other people don’t get. Zayn wonders how many other people have been fortunate enough to spend their days with merpeople and how they’ve kept the secret.
Zayn thinks of a lot of things while he lies on the dock, all of them circulating around Harry and their time together and Harry’s secret, how it doesn’t really change anything. Not really. It changes a few things, but nothing major; since it’s not like Zayn knows what it’s like to have Harry.
It’s when the sky bursts orange that Zayn gets an idea. He’s not sure if it’ll work, but it’s worth a shot.
+++
In retrospect, this might not have been the best idea. But it’s the only idea that he has.
Zayn stands on the edge of the dock, staring out at the movement of the water and waiting for a sign of relative calm. Because this is why his idea isn’t a good one, he’s not an expert on the movement of the sea, but it looks like the water gravitates towards land, or at least that’s what the waves would have him believe.
His grip is firm around the bouquet of flowers that he got from the store. The sun is almost fully set in the sky, so with a deep breath, Zayn grabs the first flower, tossing it into the water. He does that with each one of them, until the surface of the water is cluttered and covered in flowers; each one of them floating on the surface, shifting with the movement of the ocean, as the waves drag them around calmly.
Zayn watches the flowers until the sky turns black and then he gets to work, grabbing the two jugs at his feet. He only has until morning and he doesn’t want to lose anymore time.
+++
Zayn wakes up slowly, blinking into consciousness. He feels groggy and unsure of himself, but one look at the clock has him flying out of bed, rushing to pull on a pair of shorts before he’s taking off outside. It’s nearly three and he’s napped for longer than he wanted. Which wasn’t that hard to do, seeing as he hadn’t slept all night, but at ten in the morning decided to doze for just a minute. Just for a second so that he could get rid of the headache forming.
As Zayn runs to the dock he sees Harry, the other boy in the water already, swimming on his back, staring up at the sky. Zayn nearly trips in an effort to pick up the pace, to get to Harry faster.
He’s out of breath by the time he gets to the end, and Harry is looking at him, the sound of Zayn’s feet pounding on the wood having startled him.
“I’m sorry,” Zayn pants, because that’s the first thing he should be saying. “I’m sorry for freaking out. I should have—I don’t know. I should have handled that better, but I kind of freaked out a little. A lot. I freaked out a lot. And I probably made you feel bad. I’m sorry.”
Zayn’s lungs feel like they’re on fire, both from the surprise of seeing Harry and from running through the sand. His feet are hot, burning from the sand on the run down here and he wants to sit down, drop his legs in the water and ask Harry to settle between them like he normally does.
Zayn doesn’t do that, obviously. Instead he watches Harry, trying to catch his breath.
“I got your flowers,” Harry says, still a few feet away from the dock, looking up at Zayn cautiously.
“You knew they were for you?” Zayn asks, frowning. “How did you know?”
“I watched your throw them in,” Harry says, shrugging his shoulders. “Not many people toss flowers into the ocean.”
“You’ve been watching me? Why…why wouldn’t you come and talk to me?”
Harry shrugs again, sinking a little lower into the water so only the upper half of his face is showing. With his mouth hidden, Zayn knows that he’s not going to get him talking any time soon.
“I am really sorry for, you know, calling you strange. You’re not strange. This situation is strange, kind of. Like, mermaids don’t exist. Or well, that’s what I’ve been taught to believe all my life, so like, it was a shock,” Zayn says. He has no idea what he’s doing, no idea what he’s supposed to be saying. How do you apologize when you’re still trying to process this entire situation? “There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“Louis said I shouldn’t have told you.”
“Louis says a lot of shit about me,” Zayn says, rolling his eyes. “But Louis doesn’t actually know me. And like, I’ve asked why you don’t get out of the water, but I just thought you liked it. I thought that’s where you were most comfortable. I’ve asked, you’ve just never told me the answer.”
Harry shrugs once more, like it’s the only thing he knows how to do anymore. “Humans don’t usually react very well to a lot of things. It was better I didn’t tell you.”
“If that’s how you feel then why did you tell me?”
“You kissed me,” Harry says, finally looking at Zayn. “You kissed me and I thought maybe Louis was wrong, maybe you’d be okay knowing, even if it was a little weird.”
“That’s why I freaked out, because it was weird. Imagine if I just sprouted fucking wings and flew off, you’d have been a little freaked, right?”
“Do you have wings?” Harry asks, frowning, his face thoughtful. “It’d hardly be the strangest thing about a human, really.”
Zayn sighs, shaking his head. “No, humans can’t fly. Or well, we can. But like, only in an aircraft.”
“See, that’s why you’re the strange one,” Harry points out. “I’m meant to be in the sea, so I stay there. I swim in this water and I don’t affect anything on land. You guys just…you go everywhere, you’re the strange ones.”
“You affected me,” Zayn says, snapping his mouth shut when Harry looks at him. He hadn’t meant to say that. He had meant to argue that Harry at least knew what Zayn was, how he was, and he hadn’t lied about something. Not like Harry lied, but he withheld the information. With good reason, of course, because Zayn’s not sure how he would have felt if Harry had mentioned this the day they first met, when Zayn confronted him about watching him.
Zayn’s not sure what it is that he said, but Harry dives back under the water, like he always does when he leaves for the day. Panic begins to settle under Zayn’s ribs, because this conversation hadn’t gone how he thought it would, he had plans, he wanted to—
And it’s the dumbest decision of Zayn’s life, diving in after Harry, because he forgets to breathe, forgets to hold it in his lungs. So he swallows a bunch of water, coughing as soon as he breaks the surface. His eyes are burning from the salt, his lungs aching just as badly. He doesn’t know what to do with his legs or his arms, so he’s just kicking, trying not to fall back under the water, but the waves are bigger than they’ve been this past week, so he’s being rocked around roughly, slamming into the surface of the pier until he’s pulled under it.
Zayn’s thrashing around, trying to find where the top of the water is so that he can come back up for air. He’s not having any luck and he’s an absolute moron for having jumped in the water. Harry was right about him being the strange one. Harry’s never jumped onshore and done something stupid. No, that’d be Zayn, having jumped in the water without the slightest clue how to swim.
But something, or rather someone is grabbing onto Zayn and tugging him roughly up to the surface. It’s Harry, of course it is. He’s got a grip around Zayn’s torso, holding onto him tightly as they move effortlessly through the water. Zayn’s coughing, trying his hardest to hold onto Harry, because he’s the only thing keeping him from certain death at this point.
The first thing Harry says when they reach shallow water, where it comes up to the middle of Zayn’s thigh is, “I told you humans were the strange ones.”
“I can’t swim,” Zayn says, voice rough from coughing. “I can’t. Fuck.”
“Yeah, that much is obvious,” Harry mumbles, rolling his eyes.
“I can’t swim, but I didn’t want you to leave. That was a stupid risk but I really want to make it up to you. I feel like such an ass right now,” Zayn says, wishing that he could lie down for a second but he’s still in the water, gripping onto Harry even though he could stand up and be fine.
“What are you talking about, Zayn?” Harry asks.
“Will you come to dinner with me?” Zayn asks, still panting. He loosens his grip enough so that he can pull back and look at Harry properly. He was up all night preparing for this; all he needs is a chance. That’s all he needs.
“How?” Harry asks, looking thoughtful.
+++
“Is your—Um, is this okay out of the water?” Zayn asks, pointing towards Harry’s fin. It’s hanging over the edge of Zayn’s bathtub, draped over the side elegantly. And when Harry nods Zayn takes a deep breath, because this is the best he could do. He doesn’t have anything bigger for Harry in his house. “I spent all night filling that with the sea’s water. I would fill two jugs up, carry them back to my house, dump them in the tub and then go back for more.”
“It’s small,” Harry says, hands rubbing against the ledge. “I thought you said you could die in this?”
Zayn sighs, rolling his eyes. He could. And if Zayn weren’t such a good person he’d point out how Harry was the one wheezing as Zayn carried him into the house, so he’s not the only one that could die from something.
“You know, you should be more grateful,” Zayn tells him, watching as Harry raises an eyebrow at him. “I could have used tap water and tossed some salt in there, so you’re lucky.”
“Tap water?”
“Yeah, it comes from this,” Zayn says, tapping the faucet. It’s, like, the only water that humans can survive with. Salt water is useless.”
“No it’s not.”
“If I tried to drink it would be.”
“You’re strange,” Harry tells him, smiling at Zayn. “Humans are strange.”
“I’m not the one confined to a tub, am I?” Zayn teases, patting Harry on the shoulder as he makes his way out of the room. He doesn’t go far, just to the kitchen to grab the food that he prepared after he filled the tub. It’s not much, just an array of seafood. Zayn hopes it’s enough.
Harry stares down at the tray of food after Zayn sets it in front of him, the tray supported by the tub. It’s probably the worst looking meal that Zayn’s ever made a date, but it’s the best he can do.
“I researched mermai—people,” Zayn corrects when Harry turns to glare at him. “I read a lot, like, just legends and lore, stories from sailors and their experiences and sightings. It was…it was interesting. And like, I mean, the research—well, some of it said that merpeople like to eat—well, it said that you like to eat sailors. And like, I don’t really have access to many sailors, so I’m hoping that seafood will do. Some of it is cooked, some isn’t.”
Harry blinks at Zayn for a moment, turning back to look at the food in front of him. He picks up a piece of cooked shrimp, examining it carefully before he sets it back down. “Are you sure that you don’t have any sailors?”
Zayn swallows, scratching at his jaw. “Yeah. We don’t—like, that’s not a thing. We don’t eat each other.” Zayn’s trying to remain calm, he really is, but he knows that his face is probably a mixture of confusion and disgust and hopes that Harry won’t try to make a meal out of him. Or Louis, he knows that the other boy doesn’t like him, but maybe one day Louis will show up instead of Harry and dive out of the water, snatching Zayn off the dock and dragging him down to the bottom of the ocean.
Oh god, he thinks at the same time that Harry snorts out of a laugh, his mouth open wide and eyes crinkled shut. He looks like he’s thoroughly enjoying Zayn’s pain and confusion; Zayn wonders if he can see inside of Zayn’s mind. Who knows what mermen can do.
“We don’t actually eat people,” Harry wheezes out, wiping tears out of his eyes. “You should have seen your face, you looked terrified.”
“Oh god,” Zayn breathes out, sagging against the side of the tub. “I just kept picturing Louis killing me.”
“Louis doesn’t like humans, but he wouldn’t kill one,” Harry says simply enough, grabbing a bit of raw tuna and tossing it into his mouth. “We eat like anyone else…well, I guess not.”
Zayn nods, reaching out for a bit of the cooked shrimp, knowing that it’s unlikely Harry will eat any of that. It feels weird eating in the bathroom, though. But then again, it’s hardly the oddest part about this dinner, not when there’s a merman in his tub.
As Zayn chews, he takes the opportunity to take Harry in, to finally examine him in ways that he hasn’t ever been able to do before. He’s covered in tattoos, inked drawings from his chest and down his arms. There’s some along his ribs, right where the gill slits are. Zayn felt them against his skin as he carried Harry inside, could feel as they spasmed against the air, wanting to be filled with water once more. Harry’s tattoos stop at his hips, where the skin transforms into cerulean colored scaled, each one lined carefully with an orangey-red. They’re bigger around his hips, getting smaller at the curve where his knees would be, disappearing altogether at his fin.
“You can touch,” Harry tells him, obviously having been watching Zayn.
Zayn nods, reaching into the water carefully. They’re soft under his fingers, a little slimy feeling, but there’s nothing strange about them. It’s firm beneath the scales, and if Zayn feels in just the right places then he can feel what he assumes is bone, running right down the center of Harry.
“How did this happen?” Zayn asks. He’s not really looking for an answer, because there’s no way that Harry can give him one. “I read a lot, but I still don’t understand how no one knows you’re out there.”
Harry shrugs. “There’s a lot about the ocean that you don’t know, Zayn. Not just you, but all people. And it’s not like you’re very good at listening, because I’ve met some loud mouthed sailors in my time, so I know they’ve probably said a thing or two to someone.”
“Yeah but it’s like, people see the Loch Ness Monster or Big Foot all the time too, or that’s what they claim. There’s never any proof.”
“Well, now you know.”
“Now I know,” Zayn repeats, nodding. “How’d you get the tattoos?”
“Octopus and a shark tooth,” Harry says seriously, shrugging as he takes another bite of fish.
“Obviously that’s what it is,” Zayn says, shaking his head. God, he doesn’t even know what to do with that information. An octopus and a fucking shark tooth, of course that’s how Harry has tattoos.
“How’d you get yours?”
“Ink and a needle.”
Harry nods, and then says, “Who gave you the ink?”
“The artist. We don’t like… We don’t have to ask an octopus for any. It just—it’s just there. I don’t know where it comes from. It’s, like, pigments and minerals and stuff. It’s not from a squid or anything.”
Harry seems satisfied with that answer, not pushing the subject even more, even if he has questions. Zayn knows he has a lot, but he doesn’t want to poke and prod, that wasn’t the point of this, so instead of questioning Harry further, Zayn settles into the food, grabbing another piece and taking a bite.
Dinner goes fine, both of them finishing the tray of food over light conversation and laughs. It’s still odd to think of Harry being a merperson, but it’s the first friend that he’s had since the divorce, and he’s not sure that he’s ready to let Harry go just yet, not over something silly like a tail fin. It’s Harry that’s prevented Zayn from going crazy out here, stopping him from slipping into a drunken binge that Niall would have to rescue him from. It’s Harry who made his phone calls with his mother so pleasant, giving her assurance that Zayn really is okay now that the papers have gone through and Zayn was back to being single and alone.
As Zayn’s cleaning up, Harry watches him, having nothing else to do besides sit in the tub and watch. The sun has set, the night sky visible through the window. Zayn wonders if Harry has to get back, if Louis and his family will worry about him if Harry were to sleep in Zayn’s tub for the night. He’s stopped from asking, though, because as he’s settling back on the floor next to the tub, Harry talks.
“Sometimes I wish that I wasn’t like this,” Harry says, staring into the water instead of at Zayn. “I wish that I had legs, like you. If I had legs then we could fall in love, and I’d be able to love you properly. Better than Liam could.”
“Oh, Harry,” Zayn says, folding his arms and resting them on the rim of the tub. He rests his head on his arms, looking at Harry sadly. “You don’t want to fall in love with someone like me.”
“Yeah, that’s what Louis said,” Harry says, sighing. “Doesn’t really mean anything to me, though. I’m capable of making my own decisions.”
Zayn nods, because he doesn’t know what else to say. It’d be a lie to deny that he’s felt a certain way for Harry over the past month and a half. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy their kiss, how he wanted to do it again immediately after, and he’d be lying if he didn’t say that over the past few days without Harry weren’t thrilling in the least, and how the thought of not having Harry made him feel like he was spiraling.
So he doesn’t know what to say, all he can do is dip his hand under the water and hold onto Harry’s, squeezing it gently.
++++++
“Are you sure that this is a good idea?” Zayn asks, staring down at the water. “We don’t have to do this.”
“We do, we really do,” Harry says, tugging on Zayn’s ankle.
“Stop pressuring me, I’m taking my time,” Zayn grits out, fists clenched at his side. The water is only up to his knees and he’s scared to go out any further. He’s not sure why he allowed Harry to convince him that he could teach him how to swim. It was the worst idea that Zayn’s ever had.
“Nothing’s going to happen to you, okay?” Harry assures him, thumb stroking his ankle. “All you have to do is walk out so the water hits here,” he motions towards the middle of Zayn’s thigh, “I’ll take over from there.”
“What if you lose control in the water and drop me and I sink to the bottom and no one ever hears from me again?” Zayn asks, taking another step forward.
“Well, I’ll gain control again and then grab you. I saved you that one day, when you stupidly jumped in after me. Remember?”
Zayn sniffs, taking another step. “Hardly.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t,” Harry mumbles, rolling his eyes. He’s swimming in front of Zayn, moving backwards with every step that Zayn takes until the water is hitting Zayn’s hips. There’s no turning back, Zayn’s stuck here. He’s never seeing land again. Harry wraps his arms around Zayn’s waist and says, “Now, just sink down into the water. I’ll hold you up.”
“I don’t even have a life jacket,” Zayn says, squeezing his eyes shut as he sinks down, bending his knees until he’s fully submerged, every part of his body below water from the shoulders down. “Oh shit.”
Harry’s swimming them out, and Zayn knows that this is supposed to be a lesson but he refuses to let go, refuses to move around in the water without a tight grip on Harry’s body.
They’re swimming for what feels like hours and Zayn can feel Harry’s fin hitting his feet, scaring the shit out of him with every brush. Zayn’s eyes are still closed, face pressed against Harry’s shoulder.
“Open your eyes,” Harry whispers, his mouth pressed against Zayn’s ear.
“I’d rather not. I’ll open them when I feel sand against the bottom of my feet.”
Harry laughs, pinching Zayn’s ribs. “You might not feel that for a while, then.”
Zayn takes a deep breath, because it’s really only out of pure curiosity that he opens his eyes, scrambling to hold onto Harry tighter when he sees how far away his house his, how they’re nearly stranded in the middle of the ocean.
“We have to go back,” Zayn says, jerking his body around to try and get Harry swimming again. “We have to go back. I change my mind. This is the worst idea I’ve ever had. I’m never trusting a mermaid again.”
“I’m not a mermaid,” Harry growls, pinching Zayn again. “And I told you, you’re safe. Nothing is going to happen to you, okay? Not with me.”
Zayn looks into Harry’s eyes, releasing another deep breath. It takes more than just one before his muscles feel loose again. And when he looks back once more, he can’t even see his house anymore, all he can see is the blue of the ocean and the green of Harry’s eyes. And in an odd sort of twist, Zayn feels like that’s all he really needs. As long as he’s with Harry, Zayn knows that everything is going to work out, everything is going to be okay, and that nothing bad will happen to him, in the sea and on land.
So with great effort and a brand new sense of security, Zayn says, “So where are you taking me, fish boy?”
“Have you ever seen a pod of dolphins before?” Harry asks and Zayn laughs, because there’s not a single person in the world who would believe this, except for Harry, of course.