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The merman thrashes, ugly, bestial snarls twisting his mouth. His voice is shredded, outside of the water, an endless cacophonous howl that sends Arthur to his feet, hands pressed over his ears.
“Shut up.” He snaps. “Shut up!”
The merman, lips pulled back to reveal sharp canines, glares, moonlight scattering off scales of his endless tail.
He’s lying in a pool of his own blood, sand darkened and tacky under Arthur feet. He tries to touch the merman’s hair. He nearly loses a finger.
“Fine.” He snarls, stepping back.
The merman watches, entire body tense.
“Fine.” Arthur repeats, sitting a few feet away. He waits for the merman to pass out from blood loss.
When he does, Arthur drags him home.
---
He keeps the merman in his parents’ Jacuzzi. He fills it with fresh water, tries to arrange the merman’s tail so most of his lower body is underwater. His tail flops over the edge, heavy and limp in his arms.
The length of his torso is bruises, mottled black and purples alongside the tear in his skin. It begins at the edge of his scales, cutting across his ribs.
The merman breathes heavily. Arthur untangles his hair with deft fingers, pulling out a piece of seaweed.
He goes to work, mending the jagged cut, trying to fix the damage done by a careless propeller.
Arthur thinks of blood-red waters and the smell of metal and petrol and he shudders, thankful that the beach is not as crowded as it could be.
He stitches up the merman with tiny, even little stitches and even puts Neosporin because why not?
The merman’s flesh is just as soft as his, smoothed by salt water, and pale like the foam against shore. He lets his fingers curl over the merman’s side, right at the dip of his waist, and Arthur stares.
He bandages up the creature delicately, gentle. Then, he lets him sleep undisturbed.
---
The merman wakes up, draws his tail to his chest and curls into a sort of ball in the Jacuzzi. He watches Arthur over the white edge of the tub, lashes low on his cheeks and eyes keen.
“I brought you tuna.” Arthur holds up the can and a fork.
The merman looks at the tuna but doesn’t take the offered can. Arthur doesn’t like tuna but he takes a small bite and exaggerates his pleasure.
The merman snorts at him, long tail stretching. He takes the tuna and eats it with his fingers.
Arthur watches.
---
The merman doesn’t seem to enjoy the Jacuzzi. It’s alright because neither does Arthur.
Apparently he was conceived in that Jacuzzi.
He tells the merman this, when he changes the water, and the merman wrinkles his nose.
“Tell me about it, mate.” Arthur mutters, pouring a handful of lukewarm water on the merman’s scales. The glitter as the water slides down them and Arthur does it again because Matthew’s gills flutter and he smiles, pleased.
---
The merman heals nicely, albeit slowly, and Arthur sticks with Neosporin because it helps. He takes out the stitches, carefully reading from his father’s medical textbook.
“Once my brother pushed me and I hit the edge of the table and cut my forehead.” Arthur keeps one hand on the merman’s chest to keep him from wriggling. “He stitched me up and mum was none the wiser. Of course, the prat got his when father found his medical kit under the bed.”
The merman stares at his hand, not really listening. He’s more interested in the separation of Arthur’s fingers as opposed to the fine webbing between his.
Arthur watches him quietly, brow furrowed.
---
He cooks lobster one night. He buys it from town, from a grizzled old fisherman, and brings it home, dumps it in a pot of boiling water and then dumps it on a plate before bringing it to merman with store-bought lemon butter.
The merman turns the bright red thing over in his pale hands, prodding the flushed shell curiously.
“It’s actually not as hard as it looks.” Arthur settles, cross-legged, on the tile floor. “I just brought the water to a boil and---bloody hell.” He stares, mouth open, as Matthew tears into the lobster, cracking its shell between his webbed fingers. The shell falls into the water just as the meat disappears into his mouth.
When the merman is finished, he licks his mouth and looks at Arthur, wide eyes bright. There’s a charming flush in his face, soft and pink, all over his cheeks and down to his gills.
And then he even plucks the scattered shell bits floating in the water and puts them on the plate while Arthur changes the water.
---
Arthur would go to the pet store but he bought a dozen gold fish and a beta fish and he knows if he goes back, he won’t be able to look the employees in the eye again because he cooked all the fish and watched Matthew eat them whole.
Instead he buys ugly looking fish from the market and makes filets and they take their dinner together in the master bathroom.
---
The wound heals to a faint scar. It’s a light pink but it stands out starkly against the merman’s pale skin and he prods at it, mouth in a small frown.
“It gives you character.” Arthur offers, arms crossed on the edge of the Jacuzzi. “Charm.”
The merman glares from under his mop of pale gold curls and Arthur reaches over, tucking a few strands behind his ear, fingertips tracing the odd shell shape of his ear.
The merman stares at him, expression unreadable. Then, he reaches over, long fingers curling around his cheek. He blinks, something uncertain in the set of his mouth.
Arthur’s breath catches and he stands up hurriedly.
“You’ll be able to go home soon.” He tries for cheer even though he feels miserable.
The merman looks at the water.
---
He brings the merman down to shore in a sled. He tugs him over the rolling hills of sand and the merman drags his fingers through the fine grains as Arthur does all the hard work.
“I shouldn’t have fed you so much lobster.” Arthur groans.
The merman flicks sand at him, just a glimpse of sharp teeth.
---
“Go on then.” Arthur crosses his arms.
The merman doesn’t move, curled up right at the edge of the sea. He is drawing lazy circles in the wet sand, dragging his fingers through it with a scowl. Then, he looks at Arthur.
And he stretches out one arm, one pale soft beacon beckoning to Arthur. Arthur comes, only half wishing to be dragged under water. But the merman pulls him into an embrace, pressing his face into Arthur’s neck.
Arthur rests his hand on his ribs, feeling the steady breath of the other. He takes a deep breath, wondering at the smell of sea and stale salt clinging to the merman’s skin.
He feels lips against his neck, hesitant even as they follow the veins in his neck up to his jaw.
Arthur brings one hand to the merman’s tail, letting it splay against the smooth scales before drawing it upwards, cupping the curve. The merman pulls back, gaze downward, and covers Arthur’s hand with his.
Arthur leans in for one more kiss but finds his hold empty.
There’s a splash of water in the distance, barely audible over the whisper of waves.
Arthur stays on the shore a while longer.