Chapter Text
It had been several days since Louis woke up on the shore of a quiet coastal town, not remembering anything but his name. He spoke English, which was a clue, and the locals had remarked on his northern accent, but beyond that, there were no answers. Who he was, what he was doing there, or how he had ended up on the beach remained a frustrating mystery.
As time passed, fragments of memory began to return, though none offered insight into his identity. Instead, they brought something else, or rather someone else. A face.
The image was hazy at first. The man in his memory appeared to be about Louis’ age, but there was something undeniably otherworldly about him. His skin lacked the imperfections Louis was used to seeing up close — no visible pores, no texture, no lasting lines. At one point, Louis recalled the man frowning, his expression tense and cautious as he studied Louis. Then, as his face relaxed, the crease between his eyebrows smoothed away, leaving a flawless surface behind, as if he had never frowned a day in his life.
And his eyes. Louis couldn’t forget the man’s eyes. He remembered it was at dusk, yet the man’s eyes shimmered like sunlit emeralds, impossibly bright in the fading light.
Louis found himself returning to the beach often, not losing the hope of remembering more. The solitude of the place helped. It was abandoned except for a handful of local fishermen who came and went without paying him much mind. But no more memories came.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
Over time, Louis resigned himself to his circumstances. He visited the beach every day, but his thoughts always circled back to the same thing: the stranger’s eyes. No new memories surfaced to help him piece together his past. He wondered if he had a family. If so, they were already looking for him. This thought gave him a sense of comfort, and allowed him to relax a little and accept his strange, uncertain fate. For now, Louis decided he would keep searching for answers while building a life in this small coastal town. Albeit temporarily.
One day on the beach, he met a fisherman named Roland. The man, who looked to be in his sixties despite his refusal to confirm it, became something of a mentor to Louis. When Roland asked Louis his own age, he had no answer.
“Well, lad, you can’t be more than thirty,” Roland had said after studying him for a minute. Louis had laughed and decided to accept that as the truth. If his real age never came back to him, thirty seemed like a reasonable enough guess.
Roland took Louis under his wing, teaching him how to set nets and pointing out the best fishing spots. Before long, Louis fell into a simple routine. He spent his mornings on the beach, working the nets, and his afternoons at the local market, selling the day’s catch. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to earn a small living and keep himself busy.
Louis lived in an old hut by the shore once used by fishermen to store their rods, nets and boats. He cleared a corner to make himself a sleeping space and did his best to settle in, though he knew the arrangement was far from permanent. The cold season loomed on the horizon, and Louis hoped he would figure something out before it arrived.
One night, Louis found himself unable to sleep. The wind howled outside, slipping through the cracks in the hut and creating a sharp, eerie whistling sound that kept him awake. He tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position, but rest eluded him. Every time he closed his eyes, vivid images of a man with bright emerald eyes filled his mind. It was something between a dream and reality, and it left Louis feeling restless.
With a frustrated sigh, he threw off his blanket and reached for the warm cardigan draped over a chair. Wrapping it around his shoulders, he stepped outside.
The night was unusually bright. The full moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow over the waves, which rose high and crashed loudly against the shore. The wind was stronger than usual, and for a moment, Louis hesitated to go closer to the water. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw someone in the sea.
“Hey!” Louis shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Get out of the water! It’s dangerous!”
The person was near the shore, bobbing just above the waves. They didn’t appear to be struggling or panicked, so Louis doubted they were drowning. Still, there was no response.
“There’s going to be a storm, lad!” he called again, louder this time. But the person remained silent.
For a moment, Louis wondered if he was imagining things. Maybe it wasn’t a person at all. His own sleepless mind could easily be playing tricks on him. Even so, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was really out there. Gathering his courage, he walked closer to the water.
“Do you need help?” he shouted, approaching closer.
Then he saw it clearly, it was a person indeed. But just as Louis got close enough to make out more, the figure suddenly dived under the surface, vanishing in the blink of an eye.
Panic surged through Louis, and he sprinted to the water’s edge, fearing they were about to drown. But when he reached the shoreline, he froze. The figure reemerged.
They weren’t struggling at all. They were watching him. Only the top of their head and a pair of glistening emerald eyes were visible above the water.
Louis’ heart began to race. Those eyes. He knew those eyes.
“Hey, I remember you!” he exclaimed.
The man continued to study Louis with cautious eyes. After a moment, realising that Louis posed no threat, he drifted closer. The waves surged around him, but now Louis could clearly see his face and the tops of his shoulders.
“Come to the shore,” Louis urged, his voice tinged with worry. “The waves are huge! It’s dangerous!”
But the man didn’t move.
“I remember you!” Louis repeated. “Did you save me that day on the shore?”
The man hesitated, then gave a small nod. He didn’t speak.
“Why don’t you come out of the water?” Louis asked, looking at him in confusion.
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean, you can’t?” Louis asked, baffled.
The man glanced around, scanning the beach as though checking for unseen observers. Satisfied that they were alone, he disappeared beneath the water. A moment later, Louis saw something that made his breath catch — a tail. A scaly, shimmering tail, almost like a fish’s, but brighter, glowing faintly gold even in the moonlight. At first, Louis thought the man must be playing some elaborate joke, but the sheer impossibility of it struck him quickly.
Harry dived out of the water, and Louis saw his face again. He looked a little scared, and kept his distance in case Louis tried to harm him.
“But... but that’s impossible,” Louis stammered, taking an instinctive step back.
“Do I scare you?” the man asked cautiously.
Louis shook his head slowly. “Do I scare you ?”
“A little,” the man admitted.
“I won’t hurt you.”
The man’s face visibly relaxed, and he swam a little closer. Now, his tail and much of his body were almost fully out of the water as he sat on the shallow bottom. Louis hesitated for a moment before daring to take a few steps towards him. Then, with a quiet exhale, he sat down on the sand, keeping his movements gentle.
“My name is Louis,” he said softly.
The man continued to study him with cautious eyes. After a pause, he finally spoke.
“I’m Harry.”
“Harry,” Louis repeated, letting the name settle in his mind. “I remember you. You pulled me ashore the day I came here, didn’t you?”
Harry nodded.
“Do you know what happened to me?”
“You were on a yacht,” Harry explained. “There was a storm that day. The three people who were with you went under almost immediately, but I managed to grab you and bring you ashore.”
Louis frowned, racking his brain for any memory of the yacht or the people Harry mentioned. But it was no use — his mind was still blank.
“Why wasn’t the yacht found?” he asked.
“It’s very far from here,” Harry said simply.
Louis stared at him, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. “And you pulled me all the way from there?”
Harry let out a small smile, and Louis felt warmth spread through him at the sight. Dimples appeared on Harry’s cheeks, softening his cautious expression, and his emerald eyes seemed to shine even brighter than before.
“I’m a fast swimmer,” Harry said, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to reveal a hint of humour.
Louis paused to think again. He felt strangely at ease with Harry, despite the fact that he was sitting in front of a creature who could easily drag him back into the sea if he wanted to. But Harry hadn’t done so. He had saved him, after all. Surely, if he’d meant harm, he would have done it already.
“How do you know English?” Louis asked out of genuine curiosity.
Harry smiled faintly. “I listen to people.”
“Does anyone else know about you?”
Harry hesitated before answering. “A little boy. He’s about five years old. I took my name from him. He told the locals about me, but no one believed him.”
“Do you think they’re dangerous? The locals, I mean.”
Harry nodded cautiously. His eyes darted to Louis, watching him carefully, as if preparing for a betrayal.
“You’re not going to tell on me?” Harry asked quietly.
“No, no. Of course not,” Louis assured him quickly. “Do you need my help?”
Harry paused, considering the question. “You’re stealing my food.”
“Fish?” Louis asked with a laugh.
Harry’s expression remained serious, his emerald eyes fixed on Louis with a look that suggested he didn’t understand the joke. When Harry didn’t join in, Louis realised he wasn’t kidding.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Louis said, his tone softening.
“I can show you another beach,” Harry offered after a moment. “It’s full of fish. The locals love it.”
“And you don’t?”
“It’s too bitter for me.”
Louis nodded, sensing the terms being set and silently agreeing to them.
“And… how does it work?” Louis asked, curiosity spilling out of him again. “I mean, do you just live underwater? Do you have a family?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Sorry,” Louis mumbled.
“I have to get back,” Harry said after a pause.
“Okay… I’ll see you again, right?”
Harry’s lips curled into a playful smile. He gave a small nod, then, with a graceful dive, disappeared into the water. Louis stood there, watching as the golden shimmer of Harry’s tail cut through the waves, moving with breathtaking speed until it was lost to the depths.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
Louis was itching to ask the locals about mermaid legends, but the fear of giving Harry away and the possibility of hurting him kept his curiosity in check. Instead, he kept what he’d seen entirely to himself.
The image of Harry lingered in Louis’ mind. His skin looked impossibly smooth, his curly hair somehow graceful and untangled despite the salt water, cascading over his shoulders. And those shining emerald eyes, almost otherworldly, with the faint glint of gold from his tail.
Louis found himself thinking about the old tales he’d heard, stories of mermaids so impossibly alluring they could enchant fishermen and sailors, luring them into the deep sea. Yet Harry didn’t seem dangerous. Not in the slightest.
Louis stopped fishing for a few days. Instead, he used the money he’d earned earlier to stock up on tinned food, enough to last him a while. He was worried that his actions might leave Harry without enough to eat, especially since old Roland was still out fishing, too. Louis also thought it was a good way to prove to Harry that he was keeping his word. And Harry, in turn, seemed to keep his.
Exactly three days later, Louis caught sight of something glinting gold through the window of his hut. He hurried outside to the beach, just as the sun dipped below the horizon. It was dusk again — the safest time for Harry to appear.
For reasons he didn’t fully understand, Louis felt a surge of happiness at seeing him and ran towards the water, this time with less caution. Harry greeted him with a broad smile.
“I wasn’t starving,” Harry joked lightly.
Louis let out a breath of relief, his earlier worries easing. “That’s good, because I’ve spent the last of my money on canned food.”
Harry’s smile faltered, replaced by a look of embarrassment. He seemed genuinely ashamed at the thought of Louis depriving himself for his sake.
“I’m sorry, Louis. I didn’t mean to—”
But before Louis could reassure him, Harry disappeared beneath the water. For a moment, Louis feared he’d left because of the awkwardness. Then, after two minutes, Harry resurfaced, holding a massive fish in his hands. He waded closer and handed it to Louis.
“Eat it,” he said.
Louis burst out laughing. “I don’t eat raw fish.”
Harry’s expression changed instantly. He looked genuinely distressed.
“Have you ever had grilled fish?” Louis asked, trying to soothe him.
Harry shook his head.
“Wait here, all right? I’ll go grab some things from the hut.”
Louis returned with matches, plates, and a knife. As soon as Harry’s eyes landed on the knife in Louis’s hand, his expression shifted to one of fear. He instinctively drew back, as though preparing to flee.
“I won’t hurt you,” Louis said quickly. “It’s for the fish, I promise.”
Harry swam closer, watching intently as Louis began to build a fire. He’d seen people do this before, but only from a distance, and he’d never quite understood why they did it. Now, his curiosity grew as he observed Louis carefully split the fish and hold it over the flames.
When the fish was cooked, Louis cut it in half and handed one of the plates to Harry.
Harry took the plate clumsily, as he tried not to drop it. He stared at the fish with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty before bringing the plate to his face and sniffing it cautiously. Even then, he hesitated to take a bite.
“It’s best to eat it while it’s warm,” Louis explained, smiling. “It tastes better that way.”
Harry glanced at Louis and, seeing him bite into the fish with ease, mimicked his actions. The moment Harry took his first bite, his expression changed entirely. His eyes widened with surprise, and he turned to Louis as if he couldn’t believe what he was tasting.
Louis couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Do you like it?”
Harry nodded eagerly. “I’ll fish for you if you cook it,” he offered after a moment. “And we’ll eat it together.”
“Deal,” Louis replied. The moment he realised it meant he would see Harry every day, a wave of unexpected joy swept through him.
Harry finished his fish in just a few bites, even licking the plate clean afterward. The sight made Louis flush. Trying to distract himself, he set the dishes down by the smouldering fire and waded a little into the water, feeling an urge to be closer to Harry.
“Can I touch your tail?” he asked, the question slipping out before he could second-guess it.
Harry hesitated, still visibly more cautious of Louis than Louis was of him, but after a moment, he nodded. Louis moved closer, sitting beside him on the damp sand, and Harry stretched out his tail. It was much longer than Louis had anticipated — if Harry could somehow stand on it, he would easily tower over three metres tall.
Tentatively, Louis reached out and ran his hand over the glimmering scales. They were smooth and cool under his fingers, and he noticed how Harry shivered slightly at the touch.
“It feels like a fish,” Louis said.
“I am a fish,” Harry replied with a laugh.
“You’re a man,” Louis countered softly. And a very attractive one , he thought, though he kept that to himself. “Do you have a real name?”
Harry’s face lit up at the question. He seemed genuinely pleased by Louis’ interest. Not the curious fascination of someone gawking at a mythical creature, but a genuine connection.
“We communicate with sounds,” Harry explained, “but they’re not audible to human ears.”
“I’m sorry I can’t call you by your real name.”
“I like Harry,” he said with a shrug, and Louis smiled warmly.
“Do you have any friends?” Louis asked. “I mean… you’re not the only one, right?”
Harry shook his head. “I’m not the only one in the world. But here, I am.”
“Why do you stay here?”
“I’ve always been here.”
Harry seemed to be deep in thought, and Louis pulled away, aware that he was asking too many questions again. The warmth from the nearby fire offered some comfort, but the sea water had grown too cold as dusk settled in. Louis began to shiver, which immediately caught Harry’s attention. Without thinking, Harry ran his fingertips over Louis’ goosebumps. He likely didn’t understand the sensation since his own skin didn’t react like that, so Louis decided to explain.
“It happens when you’re cold.”
Harry’s expression grew sad as he watched Louis’ discomfort, but he still nudged him gently toward the shore.
“Do you ever get cold?” Louis asked.
Harry shook his head, clearly not fully understanding the concept of cold. He had never experienced it the way Louis did. However, he did understand discomfort, especially the sensation of being without water for too long. He assumed that for Louis, “cold” was something similar to that.
“If you’re cold, I won’t be offended if you go home,” Harry said, after a moment of thought. He really didn’t want Louis to be uncomfortable.
Louis hesitated. He didn’t want to leave, but even the warmth of the fire wasn’t enough to ward off the chill that had settled in. The night was too cold, and he realised it had probably been a mistake to venture into the water.
“I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast, then,” Louis offered.
“Breakfast?” Harry repeated the word slowly, clearly unfamiliar with it.
“When we eat,” Louis explained. “Roland goes fishing in the afternoon…” Then, realising his words might not fully make sense to Harry, he clarified, “when the sun is overhead.”
Harry nodded. “I’ll catch something new for you,” he said, smiling.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
Louis continued his search for answers, trying to piece together the fragments of his life. He had told the police that he remembered the yacht and the three people who were with him. It was a lie, but he had no reason not to trust Harry’s version of events.
His family must have been worried, probably thinking he had been dead for a long time. He must have had obligations, a life he had left behind. Louis couldn’t shake the thought that he couldn’t keep living in the fisherman’s hut as if nothing had happened.
On his way back from the police station to the beach, Louis stopped at the market. With the few coins he had left, he bought some of the cheapest vegetables he could find — tomatoes and cucumbers. A kind man, who had once bought fish from Louis, offered him a free radish to try. Louis accepted it gratefully.
When he returned to the beach, his eyes immediately scanned the water, searching for his new friend. His heart quickened as he walked closer to the shoreline, making sure no one else was around. At first, there was no sign of Harry, but then he caught it. Golden reflections rippled under the waves, subtle yet unmistakable. Harry was waiting.
Louis rushed back to the cabin to gather the dishes and wash the vegetables. Once he returned to the shore, he sat by the water, waiting with quiet excitement.
About twenty minutes later, Harry appeared, emerging from the water with a large fish in his hands, slightly bigger than yesterday’s catch. Louis stared at it, intrigued. He had never seen a fish like it before and was certain no one else in the village had either.
“You have to dive deep to get them,” Harry explained calmly. “People don’t usually catch them.”
“I've made a good friend then,” Louis winked, and began to build a fire.
Harry watched him again, as if trying to remember his movements, and then his gaze landed on the vegetables.
‘What are these?’ he asked.
“They’re food, too,” Louis replied, smiling as he began to slice a tomato. “Plants that grow on land.”
“You can eat them too?” Harry asked, still a little unsure.
Louis nodded and handed Harry a slice of tomato. “Try it.”
With caution, Harry took the slice in his hand. He sniffed it, studied it, and then took a tentative bite. His face shifted as he processed the taste.
“This is so... unusual,” he said, a little stunned. He took another bite, his eyes widening as he tried to better understand the new sensation.
Louis couldn’t help but watch Harry with fascination. There was a certain clumsiness to the way he tried to hold the food, awkwardly balancing the plate in his hands as if it might slip through his fingers at any moment. But at the same time, he had a certain natural grace about him that kept Louis completely captivated.
After finishing the slice of tomato Louis had given him, Harry’s eyes darted to the small pile of vegetables nearby. He looked curious but hesitant, as if unsure whether it was polite to ask for more.
“I’ll cut them up when the fish is ready,” Louis said with a smile. Then, on a whim, he added, “Or you could help me.”
“Help you cut them?” Harry looked at him, surprised. It was clear he had never handled a knife before.
Louis picked up the knife and a cucumber, stepping closer to Harry. “Here,” he said, gently placing the knife in Harry’s hand. Standing behind him, Louis guided Harry’s hand with his own, showing him how to hold the knife steady and slice the vegetable.
“Just keep an eye on your other hand,” Louis instructed softly. “Don’t cut yourself.”
It reminded Louis of teaching a child something new, but Harry didn’t feel childish at all. Sure, he didn’t know much about human tools or customs, but he had an endearing curiosity that was far from naive. Harry was cute, yes, but there was nothing immature about him.
Harry’s first attempts at cutting the cucumber left the pieces uneven and jagged, but Louis assured him it didn’t matter. “You didn’t cut off a finger. That’s what counts,” Louis joked.
When the fish was finally fried, Louis split it evenly, just like the last time, placing half on Harry’s plate. This time, Harry held the plate with much more confidence. He took a bite, and his expression immediately changed. He once again pointed out that it tasted completely different when it was raw.
Encouraged, Harry reached for a radish and bit into it, only to grimace almost immediately.
"Why is it so bitter?" Harry asked, his face twisted in disgust as he immediately spit the radish back out.
"It's supposed to be bitter," Louis said, laughing.
"People eat bitter on purpose?" Harry's expression was a mix of genuine confusion and mild horror.
"Sometimes, yeah. And also spicy, sour, even really salty. It's good."
"Do you like it?"
"I'm not a fan of spicy things, but I think radishes are pretty good."
Harry grimaced again, and dumped all the radishes from his plate onto Louis’. Without hesitation, Louis swapped them for all his tomatoes, knowing how much Harry seemed to like them.
"No," Harry protested immediately, shaking his head. "Save some for yourself."
"These are for you," Louis said with a soft smile, nudging the plate closer.
Harry hesitated, his gaze flickering between Louis and the tomatoes. Eventually, he gave in, his resistance melting into a shy grin as he dug into the tomatoes with enthusiasm, trying to eat them as quickly as possible. Louis couldn't help but find it utterly adorable.
"Do you like shrimp?" Harry asked after finishing his portion, wiping a bit of tomato juice from his lips.
"Yeah, actually. They're really good."
Harry's face lit up with a mysterious smile, one that made it clear he was already planning something for their next meal.
"You don't have to come up with something new every time," Louis said quickly, not wanting Harry to feel any pressure.
"I like to impress you," he grinned.
If it were up to Louis, he would have spent the rest of the day with Harry. But Roland often came to the beach in the afternoons, sometimes accompanied by a few other locals. Louis knew it was too risky to linger and potentially expose Harry to danger.
"Will I see you tonight?" Louis asked as he reluctantly prepared to leave.
"It's cold at night," Harry replied, as he recalled how Louis had been shaking the previous evening.
"I'll dress warmly," Louis assured him, and the worry in Harry's expression faded into a smile.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
For the first time, Louis began to question how easily he had accepted Harry's existence. It seemed almost too natural to him, yet he couldn’t shake the way Harry lingered in his thoughts throughout the day. Instead of focusing on figuring out what to do with his life (especially since his memories remained a frustrating blank) his mind wandered to Harry’s sweet laugh, the way his green eyes sparkled, and how his curls framed his face so perfectly. And it wouldn’t have been such a problem if Harry were just another human. But his two-metre-long tail made everything a bit more complicated.
Roland stopped by the hut that afternoon, and Louis noticed his curious look.
"Why’d you stop fishing all of a sudden?" Roland asked.
Louis hesitated but had already prepared a vague answer. "I decided to take a few days off," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "I’ve been talking to the police a lot, and it’s been giving me these awful headaches."
Roland seemed satisfied enough with the explanation. But Louis knew he couldn’t keep using Harry’s fish as a substitute forever. He wasn’t earning anything, and the small stash of cash he had saved up was already running out. If he wasn’t going to fish anymore, Louis needed to figure out a new plan. And soon.
As soon as night fell and the beach cleared of fishermen, Louis bundled himself up in two sweaters and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. He didn't have to wait for Harry long, because he was just as excited to see him as Louis was.
As Harry swam closer, Louis noticed that his hair was slightly tangled, with strands of seaweed caught in it. Without hesitation, Louis leaned over to brush the algae out of Harry's curls, and felt a little trepidation at the proximity. Harry stilled, letting him do it, and Louis felt his pulse quicken.
Harry’s voice broke the silence. “This is for you,” he said shyly, and extended his hand, revealing a small, shimmering pearl in his palm.
Louis blinked in surprise. “For me?”
Harry nodded, and his cheeks tinted with a faint blush.
Louis took the pearl, cradling it gently in his hand. “Thank you,” he said softly, feeling warmth spreading through his chest. “It’s beautiful.”
Harry's smile widened, revealing the dimples in his cheeks, and Louis couldn’t help but smile back. The way Harry’s entire face lit up when he smiled made Louis’ heart skip a beat.
“I wish I could see it with my own eyes,” he said after a moment. “The underwater world. You must see so much beauty down there.”
Harry tilted his head slightly. “You see a lot of beauty that I don’t,” he replied.
Louis felt a sudden urge to share more of his world with Harry. “Can you... um... stay out of the water for long?” he asked hesitantly, wondering if it was possible to show Harry something beyond the shoreline.
Harry looked thoughtful. “I don’t need water to breathe,” he explained, “but I feel uncomfortable without hydration. No more than half a day, I think.”
“Half a day?” Louis repeated, surprised. “That’s a lot longer than I thought.” He didn’t bother hiding the excitement in his voice. “Maybe I could show you around sometime. My cabin, for example.”
Harry laughed.
“What?” Louis teased. “I don’t often have mermen as guests.”
“Mermaids,” Harry corrected him with a playful smirk.
Louis raised an eyebrow. “Mermaids?”
“I prefer mermaids,” Harry said, grinning. “It sounds more graceful.”
Louis chuckled and shook his head. “Alright, mermaid it is.”
Louis tucked the pearl into his pocket, making sure it was safe before shaking the blanket from his shoulders and draping it over Harry instead.
“I know you’re never cold,” Louis said softly, “but the blanket makes me feel... cozy.” He adjusted it carefully around Harry’s shoulders. Harry nodded thoughtfully, his expression curious as he touched the soft material.
“Are you sure you’re not cold?”
“I’m sure,” Louis replied, smiling as he placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders to adjust the blanket better.
Harry hesitated for a moment before quietly admitting, “I like the touch.” It was only then that Louis realised that Harry had never experienced it. “Do people touch a lot?”
Louis pondered the question for a moment before responding. “There are different kinds of touch,” he explained. “Here, give me your hand.”
Harry extended his right hand toward Louis. The latter took it, holding it firmly but gently as he demonstrated a handshake.
“This is how you say hello,” Louis said, shaking Harry’s hand.
Harry nodded, his gaze fixed on their hands as though trying to memorize the gesture.
“And this,” Louis said, intertwining their fingers, “is how you touch when someone is important to you.”
Harry’s eyes widened slightly, and he glanced at their joined hands before looking back at Louis. A shy smile tugged at his lips, and he whispered, “Important...”
Louis didn't let go of his hand, and Harry wasn't about to either. Their eyes locked, and Louis could see the blush coloring Harry’s cheeks. Yet, Harry didn’t waver, his grip firm, as though he wanted this moment to last.
Louis felt his chest tighten, his breaths shallow as the air between them thickened. He suddenly wanted to get even closer.
He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper as he said, “You know how else you can show someone is important?”
Harry nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact. Louis then leaned closer, stopping just a breath away from Harry’s lips. He lingered there, giving Harry the time to grow comfortable with the sudden intimacy of their closeness. When he saw no hesitation in Harry’s gaze, only quiet anticipation, Louis closed the gap, brushing his lips softly against Harry’s. Harry froze for a moment, perhaps surprised, but then he responded with a tentative press of his own. Louis’ free hand moved up to gently cup Harry’s face, his thumb brushing against his jaw as he deepened the kiss just slightly.
When they finally pulled apart, Louis searched Harry’s face, wanting to make sure he hadn’t overstepped. Harry’s cheeks were bright pink.
“That’s another way,” Louis whispered timidly.
Harry blinked, then smiled, the dimples in his cheeks appearing once more. “I think I like that way.”
Their hands remained intertwined, and neither of them seemed to want to let go.
Harry shifted slightly, trying to move closer to Louis, but Louis’ eyes darted around nervously.
“What if someone sees you?” he whispered, glancing toward Harry’s shimmering golden tail, which caught even the faintest light of the moon.
“It’s night, Louis. There’s no one here.”
Reluctantly, Louis let go of Harry’s hand to help him out of the water. The moment Harry’s tail touched the sand, Louis’s heart skipped a beat. It all suddenly became too real.
Harry leaned in closer, pulling Louis into an embrace, so that he could put the blanket around him. The blanket they shared draped over both their shoulders, though its edges dragged into the wet sand, soaking through. Louis didn’t care. He was too aware of the warmth of Harry’s body pressed against his, the way his hands rested lightly on his back, and the feeling of being so close to him now.
“I like this,” Harry murmured, his voice muffled slightly by the crook of Louis’s neck.
Louis smiled softly, as he put his arms around Harry. “Yeah,” he replied quietly, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder. “I like it, too.”
They didn’t need words. The stillness between them spoke louder than anything either could say. As Louis held Harry in his arms, his cheek pressed lightly against Harry’s damp hair, a wave of melancholy crept over him. This moment was everything, but it was also all they had.
Louis’ heart ached with the realization. He wanted more. He wanted the impossible. He wanted to take Harry back to the small cabin, to dry him off, tuck him into his bed, and make him a steaming cup of tea. He wanted to wake up next to him, sunlight filtering through the window, Harry’s soft breathing the first thing he heard. He wanted the ordinary comforts that lovers shared.
But that will never happen, because he is here. And he's not human.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞
The next day brought more clarity, as news from the police came in. They identified the people who were on the yacht with him. Maybe this is the end of the story. He would have to say goodbye to Harry and come back home. To the family that was waiting for him.
At the station, an officer placed two photographs in front of him. The first was a printed family photo, showing a man and woman smiling warmly at the camera — his parents, apparently. The second was a grainy freeze-frame from a port CCTV camera. It captured three figures boarding the yacht: the man and woman from the family photo, and a younger man.
“The two people who were with you are your parents,” the officer explained. “And this man here,” he tapped the photo of the third figure, “is Connor Brown. Twenty-eight years old. Do you recognize him?”
Louis studied the image. The man had dark hair, and sharp features. Something about him felt familiar. But nothing surfaced.
“I don’t remember,” Louis said, his voice filled with frustration as he shook his head.
The officer sighed and pushed a file closer to Louis. “We’ve done some digging. Of his relatives, we only found his sister, though they haven’t spoken in ten years. From what we’ve gathered, Connor didn’t have anyone else. He was... alone.” He paused, his tone softening. “We haven’t been able to establish who he was to you. Maybe a friend. Maybe something more. Do you think he could’ve been a boyfriend?”
A boyfriend? Louis’s mind went completely blank. His chest tightened as the officer’s words echoed in his head. How could he forget someone he loved?
“I don’t remember anything,” he admitted quietly.
The officer nodded, shuffling some papers before continuing. “Your parents owned several flats in London,” he stated. “Since you have no siblings or other living relatives, you’re the sole heir. You’ll inherit the entire estate.”
Louis blinked, barely processing the information. Flats in London? Inheritance? It all felt like someone else’s life. Not his.
“I think you should go back to London,” the officer added, his tone firm yet understanding. “There’s a lot to sort out, and it might help you regain a sense of normalcy. Sometimes returning to familiar places can trigger memories.”
Louis swallowed hard and nodded. “Thank you,” he said.
He returned to the beach that night, and Harry greeted him with a big smile that quickly faltered as he noticed something was wrong.
“Hi,” Louis said, trying to sound normal, but his voice wavered.
“Hi,” Harry replied softly, his worried gaze fixed on Louis as he sat down on the sand and held out a small handful of berries.
“They’re blueberries,” Louis explained, forcing a faint smile. “I bought them on the way back from the... police station.”
Harry’s expression brightened momentarily as he took the berries. “Did they find your family?” he asked, his voice hopeful.
Louis lowered his head, unable to meet Harry’s eyes. “My parents were on the yacht with me,” he said quietly. “And... my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” Harry repeated.
“Lover,” Louis clarified. He glanced up and saw the subtle shift in Harry’s expression.
“I’m sorry,” Harry murmured.
Louis forced a small, awkward smile. “I still don’t remember them,” he admitted. The silence that followed felt heavy between them, only the sound of the waves was filling the void.
“I’m going back to London for a while,” Louis added, finally breaking the quiet.
Harry’s voice cracked as he asked, “I won’t see you again?”
“I have some things to sort out, but...” Louis trailed off, and when he looked up, he saw Harry’s green eyes glistening, on the verge of tears. His heart broke a little more. “I’ll definitely come back. Even if it’s just to say goodbye.”
Harry nodded slowly, pressing his lips together as if to keep himself composed. He leaned back, resting his hands in the sand as he processed the words.
“Can you kiss me again?” he asked quietly.
Louis’ chest tightened at the question. His heart ached as he leaned closer, his hand brushing against Harry’s cheek.
He tried to memorise every feature of Harry's face, because it felt like a farewell.
“Of course,” he whispered.
Their lips met, gentle and slow, and Louis let himself linger, trying to memorize every second of it.