Work Text:
Sometimes, reflective surfaces are just that—surfaces created to reflect something, created for a sole purpose, a purpose then fulfilled. It is a sad thought to be created for one use alone, discarded when no longer useful.
The most beautiful sources of reflection are those that exist for reasons other—the gemstones of jewelry and the metals of coins—but none can claim to be more beautiful than the sea.
The sea was indeed beautiful, but a word synonymous described it perfectly—beguiling. The sea was a deceiving thing—smaller than the ocean, perceived safer, even desired by the masses; land masses contained it, enclosed it, yet only partially. It would be a mistake to think the sea could be contained, even if it was cast against warm sand and shells of bright and faded colors.
When you, or any soul who forgot what it was to be wary, find yourself entranced by the light reflected against the waves, allow yourself to be welcomed, it is over. Entrapped and ensnared, the sea will become you, and you will become one with the sea.
Those waters formed an abyss, one so easy to fall into if you failed to guard yourself for even a second; perhaps it was that which Jade found most beautiful of all. The beauty of the dangerous unknown, that which excited him.
What laid beneath there? For he who had spent most of his life down below, even he does not completely know.
And yet he dives deep into the darkness, with no clear destination in sight.
“Aren’t you scared of me?” Jade had asked, some long time ago. In truth he knows how long it has been, but he doesn’t quite see the point in recalling it—he measures not by time, but by appearances and lines uttered, events clearly remembered. He’s not the type to admit to being terrifying, the act of feigning ignorance preferable, but with no audience in sight he supposed it was alright. “Trailing after me like this—could it be that there’s something you require of me?”
You ignored his second question, likely sensing that it had been rhetorical, that he knew you had no real request, no desire from him.
“Do you want me to be?”
Despite your phrasing it as a question, he knew the answer was a resounding no.
You looked at him expectantly, as though you actually wanted an answer out of him, and Jade contemplated on handing you one. He thought of what you could possibly want to hear from him, whether it be brutally honest, or sickeningly sweet, or stubborn denial. What he had done instead was look you in the eye, not to steal the truth but to speak it.
Jade has always enjoyed the sight of fish and man alike scurrying away from him, frightened by fangs and unnerved by words, but he supposes that—
“This is interesting, too.”
“Huh, this is the first time I’ve seen you smile!” you had exclaimed, some time ago. Other than your tone of excitement you had said it quite plainly, out of nowhere in some occasion or conversation he could not even properly recall. He had not even known he had been smiling, and never would have had you not had your eyes on him, had you not pointed it out.
“You’re mistaken, and frankly I’m quite upset that you failed to notice how often I smile around you,” or around everyone, Jade thought, but that part was irrelevant. “I’m always smiling, am I not?”
“Not like this… or, not like you had been,” you suddenly frowned, an action that unsettled him, if only because he had not meant to cause it. Without the intention of doing so, something he had done had upset you. “I’ve seen this smile before.”
“Is something wrong with this one?”
“No! It’s nice to look at, perhaps even handsome,” you admitted, a surprising amount of nonchalance from the reactive you, “but the other one was… I wanted to look at it more. You changed expressions too quickly.”
At the time, the answer had amused Jade, but looking back at it now, your reasoning had awed him. You wanted to look at him more. He had never taken kindly to being observed so intently, him in all of his hypocrisy, but for a reason then unknown to him, he had smiled without your command, but an indirect demand—inhumanly sharp and frighteningly fine, canines not quite chaotic but undoubtedly precise in its bite.
“Do you fear me, like this?” he asked, staring you down in anticipation. The way you stare back could have been enough an answer, your wordless yes, and yet without him doing anything you reply with nothing but honesty. He had expected nothing less from you, and nonetheless it had warmed him, the fire he had never been accustomed to in the sea.
“I would be lying if I said I yes,” you began, “but if I said yes, would you smile at me more often? Like how you are now?”
Jade had not realized he had been holding that smile until he felt the ache beginning to form in his cheeks, but at your reply the edges tugged higher, and higher, and higher until he could no longer smile without the accompaniment of a laugh.
“If my smile is your desire, then who am I to deny you of it?”
“I wonder why you’re not afraid,” Jade had said, some few days ago. At some point he had stopped asking, knowing that although there may be things about you that change with time, your perspective of him will always remain as constant as the stars above. You love him, genuinely, and if he were to question his reflection about the extent of his affection, the truth would come out that he loved you, too.
“Well… I think it’s my turn to ask you—are you not afraid?”
Of you? Never, but he knew you meant something else.
Perhaps it was never him you were scared of, but the feelings that came along with him.
“I did not know what I was getting into, being with you, but I was never afraid of what I didn’t know.”
Jade looks at you, his new dwelling place, a second abyss he has long been invited to, fallen into. He falls not by accident but by choice, an invitation accepted, and he dives into the depths of the deep, and he feels the waters embracing him, welcoming him home.
The sea reflects the light of the moon, but in his eyes, reflected is none but you.