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Kai was ditched by his friends again. Well, not really—Cole, Nya, and Lloyd wanted to go on the boardwalk rides, and there was no way Kai was doing that. Heights? Not his thing. Flashing lights and screaming kids? Hard pass. So instead, he stuck to what was familiar, comfortable: The shoreline.
The sand was warm under his bare feet as he wandered farther down, away from the crowded beaches. He liked it better where it was quiet, where the sound of the waves wasn’t drowned out by carnival music and the smell of fried food. By the time he realized how far he’d gone, the boardwalk was a faint smudge in the distance, the rides just jagged shadows against the sky.
It was peaceful here. Just him, the surf, and the endless roll of the ocean. He crouched down and started piling sand together without much thought—first a sloppy wall, then towers, then digging trenches to let the tide creep in and fill them like rivers. Hours slipped by. The sun lowered, gold on the water.
But then, he felt it; That prickling weight of being watched.
Kai froze, his fingers buried in the sand. Slowly, he lifted his head. At first, nothing but the calm waves. Then… movement. A flicker of auburn at the surface. Hair.
His breath hitched. Someone was out there, chest-deep or maybe swimming, but not coming closer. Just… watching him.
“Hey!” Kai called out, cupping his hands around his mouth. “You okay? You need help or-”
But the second his voice carried over the water, the figure vanished. A sharp splash, a ripple racing outward, and then nothing.
Kai scrambled to his feet, eyes scanning the sea. No bobbing head. No floating body. Just empty water, as if whoever-or whatever-had been there had melted back into the depths.
His heart thudded. He knew what he’d seen, though. Auburn hair, catching the light.
“...Weird,” Kai muttered, trying to laugh it off. Still, his eyes lingered on the horizon, a shiver crawling up his spine.
Unseen beneath the waves, Jay lingered just far enough away. His pulse was hammering in his throat. Stupid. Stupid. He’d let Kai see him. A human. And worse, one who might tell others.
Kai had no idea how close he was to the very thing humans hunted.
---
The next day, Kai wasn’t about to admit he was curious, but when Cole suggested hitting the beach again, he jumped at the chance. Cole had always been the strongest swimmer of the group, practically half-fish the way he cut through waves, and Kai figured if anyone could keep him from drowning, it was Cole.
“Don’t worry,” Cole said, hauling a pair of bright orange floaties from his backpack and tossing them at Kai. “You’re not going under with me around. Worst case, these bad boys will keep you bobbing like a cork.”
Kai groaned but slipped them on anyway. He wasn’t proud, but he wasn’t about to die proving a point. “Yeah, laugh it up. You’ll be begging for my help when a crab latches onto your toe.”
Cole just grinned and sprinted into the water, diving headfirst with barely a splash. Kai, slower, waded in until the water brushed his knees, then forced himself to go deeper, the floaties squeaking as he moved his arms. He hated the way the sand shifted under his feet, soft and unstable, like the ocean was waiting to swallow him whole.
Still, he kept going. Because maybe, just maybe, he’d see that auburn flash again.
And he did.
Not right away. Cole was busy showing off, calling out, “See? Easy! Just kick your legs!” Kai was trying not to panic every time the tide pushed against him, but then he saw it. A head. Auburn hair slick with seawater, eyes glinting before vanishing beneath the surface.
Kai’s breath caught. “Cole! Did you see that?”
“See what?” Cole stopped, turning in a circle. “A jellyfish?”
“No, there was-” Kai pointed frantically at the spot, but it was gone. Again. Just like yesterday. “Never mind.”
Cole gave him a skeptical look but didn’t push. He swam back closer, resting his arms on Kai’s floaties with a smirk. “Maybe the sun’s frying your brain. Let’s stick to the shallow end for now.”
Kai tried to laugh it off, but he couldn’t shake the feeling. Someone was out there, watching. And unlike yesterday, he knew it wasn’t his imagination.
Underneath the waves, Jay clung to the shadows of a reef outcropping, heart hammering. Two of them, today. One strong, one… nervous, clumsy. But the one with the fiery eyes—that was the human he couldn’t stop watching.
He should have left, but he stayed, circling just out of sight.
Cole was showing off, diving beneath the waves with strong strokes. Kai tried not to stare too hard at the dark water around him—it always made his stomach flip—but he kept his eyes trained on where Cole disappeared.
Seconds passed. Then Cole shot back up for air, grinning, shaking water from his hair. “See? Nothing to it!” he called, before vanishing under again.
Kai rolled his eyes. “Show-off,” he muttered, shifting nervously in his floaties.
But the next time Cole went under, everything changed.
Because there: something moved. Not a fish. Not seaweed. Auburn hair, streaming like fire through the water. And a face. Human at first glance, but then—Cole’s lungs seized when he saw the shimmer of scales, the curve of a tail, powerful and long, flashing once before darting deeper.
Cole’s heart nearly exploded out of his chest. He’d seen enough movies to know what that was. A merman.
Panic shot through him. He kicked toward the surface, sucking in a shaky breath when he broke through. His gaze whipped immediately to Kai, who was still bobbing obliviously a few yards away.
“Out. Now,” Cole barked, his voice sharp with an urgency Kai had never heard before.
“What? Why?” Kai frowned.
Cole didn’t waste time explaining. He splashed hard toward Kai, grabbed him by the arm, and started dragging him back to shore. “I said now!”
“Cole! Hey, what the hell? I can swim fine, you don’t have to.”
“Not arguing,” Cole snapped, half-hauling Kai even as the floaties squeaked between them. The look on his face silenced Kai more than the words did. His wide eyes, the way he kept glancing over his shoulder at the water-Cole wasn’t joking. He was scared.
By the time they stumbled onto the sand, Kai coughing and dripping, Cole shoved him a few more feet away from the waves before finally letting go.
Kai stared at him, confused and a little pissed. “What’s your problem?”
Cole stood there, chest heaving, staring back at the ocean like it might lunge at them. His throat worked before he muttered low, “There’s something out there, Kai. Someone.”
Kai froze, the memory of auburn hair flashing in his mind from yesterday.
Out in the water, just beneath the waves, Jay hovered with his heart slamming against his ribs. He hadn’t meant to be seen. And now… the human with the dark eyes had spotted him.
Cole wouldn’t calm down, even after they were sitting on the sand. He kept watching the waves like they’d bite him if he turned his back, muttering things Kai couldn’t quite catch. Eventually, he stood and brushed sand off his shorts.
“I’m grabbing drinks,” Cole said tightly. “Stay here.”
“Yeah, sure,” Kai muttered, but the second Cole’s broad shoulders disappeared up the beach, Kai was pulling the floaties back on. If Cole was going to treat him like a kid, then fine. But Kai wasn’t stupid—something was out there. Something that wasn’t a fish, wasn’t seaweed, and wasn’t in his head.
He waded back into the surf until the water lapped against his waist. The salty air clung to his skin, waves tugging at his legs. He waited.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then—there. The water rippled, and auburn hair broke the surface a few feet away.
Kai’s breath caught. He raised a hand, cautious. “Hey… you.”
The boy—or whatever he was—blinked back at him. Sea-slick hair plastered to his forehead, eyes too bright, almost glowing in the sunlight. He looked nervous, shoulders hunched as if ready to dive under at any moment.
Kai swallowed, forcing his voice steady. “I saw you yesterday. And today. You don’t have to run. I’m not gonna ... hurt you or anything.”
The figure tilted his head, lips parting. Then, softly, haltingly: “You… not… hunter?”
Kai’s brow furrowed. The accent was thick, the words broken, like English wasn’t his first language. Still, he understood enough.
“No. Not a hunter,” Kai said firmly. “Just… me.” He thumped his chest. “Kai.”
The boy blinked, then raised a hand hesitantly, pressing it against his own chest. “Jay.”
Kai’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Jay. Okay.”
For a moment, it was almost easy. Awkward, sure, with Jay struggling over words, but Kai asked simple questions—“Why here?” “Do you live in the water?”—and Jay answered in clipped, careful phrases. Enough to confirm Kai’s wild guess.
Merman.
Kai’s head spun.
But just when Jay seemed to relax, shoulders loosening as he dared a smile, Kai heard Cole’s voice behind him: “Hey! I got—”
The splash came before Kai could react. Jay’s eyes widened with fear, and then he was gone, vanishing beneath the waves in a single fluid motion. Only ripples remained.
Kai turned sharply, seeing Cole jogging back with two bottles of soda in hand.
“You went back in?” Cole scowled, jogging forward. “Didn’t I say—”
Kai’s heart pounded. He didn’t answer. He was too busy staring at the water, hoping for another flicker of auburn to prove it hadn’t all been in his head.
Here’s how that could unfold with Cole brushing Kai off, and Kai getting restless when they rejoin the group:
On the walk back toward the main beach, Kai couldn’t keep it in. The words tumbled out of him, fast and rough, as if saying them quickly might make Cole believe him.
“I talked to him, Cole. The guy in the water yesterday? He’s real. His name’s Jay. He’s not—he’s not human, not exactly, but he wasn’t dangerous. He could talk, just not well. He was there.”
Cole’s jaw tightened. He didn’t slow his stride. “Kai, listen to yourself. A ‘merman’? Come on. You’re tired. The sun’s frying your brain.”
“I’m not making it up,” Kai snapped.
Cole shook his head and muttered, “You sound crazy, man.”
That one stung. Kai’s mouth opened, but no words came. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead, scowling at the sand under his feet. Crazy. Yeah, sure. He knew what he saw. What he *heard*.
By the time they reached the busier part of the beach, the rest of the group was easy to spot. Nya was stretched out on a towel, sunglasses perched on her nose, while Lloyd tried to teach himself how to use a skim board.
“Finally,” Nya said, sitting up. “What took you two so long?”
“Cole wanted to play lifeguard,” Kai muttered.
Cole shot him a look but didn’t say anything. He plopped down next to Nya and cracked open his soda like he hadn’t just called Kai insane.
Kai tried to sit, tried to listen to Lloyd’s laughter and Cole's dumb commentary, but he couldn’t stay still. His eyes kept dragging toward the water. Not the crowded section here, clogged with swimmers and surfers, but farther down—where the sand thinned out and the waves were emptier.
His chest itched with the need to move. To see auburn hair again, to prove to himself that he wasn’t losing it.
He stood once, muttering something about grabbing more shells, but Cole’s hand caught his wrist. “Don’t,” he said under his breath.
Kai yanked free. “I’m not a kid.”
He walked a few steps toward the tide line, but Lloyd’s voice floated over: “Kai, aren’t you going to join us? We’re setting up a volleyball game.”
Kai hesitated, glancing between his friends and the endless stretch of water calling to him.
Because somewhere out there, Jay was waiting.
Kai didn’t care that Cole thought he was crazy. He didn’t care that Nya and Lloyd were only a few steps away, setting up their game. He didn’t care that his chest was still raw from Cole’s words, “You sound crazy, man.” None of it mattered.
All that mattered was the shimmer of auburn hair he couldn’t stop seeing every time he blinked. The way Jay had said his name, halting and heavy with an accent, but still real. Real. Kai wasn’t imagining it. He wasn’t.
So when Nya called for him to join volleyball and Cole reached for his arm again, Kai bolted. His legs kicked up sand as he sprinted down the shore, ignoring Cole’s sharp, “Kai! Wait!” He was already gone, his heart hammering with something between defiance and hunger.
The farther he ran, the thinner the crowds became. The laughter and music from the boardwalk dulled until only the crash of waves filled his ears. That was what he wanted. Quiet. Open water. A chance.
Jay was out there. And Kai was going to see him again.
He hit the edge of the surf at a run, splashing into the shallows, the cold sting shocking his calves and knees. He went farther, chest-deep this time, his shirt plastering to his skin. No floaties. No Cole. Just him.
“Jay!” Kai shouted into the waves, his throat raw, the name ripped from him like a plea. “Jay! Please!”
For a terrifying second, nothing. Then the water ahead rippled. A head surfaced, auburn hair dripping over bright, wary eyes.
Kai’s chest lurched. Relief flooded him so hard his knees nearly buckled. “You’re real,” he whispered, though the waves stole most of the sound. Louder, he called, “Jay! It’s me-Kai!”
Jay’s lips parted, surprise flickering across his face. Slowly, he swam closer, the water breaking against his shoulders in smooth arcs. He was beautiful, sunlight catching on his wet hair, his gaze locked onto Kai’s like he couldn’t look away.
Kai laughed, a raw, almost disbelieving sound. “You came back.”
But then a wave shoved against him, and the ground under his feet gave way.
At first, he thought it was nothing, just the shifting sand he hated so much. But then his right foot sank lower, slipping into an unseen hollow. His balance tipped, and before he could suck in a breath, the ocean yanked him downward.
The hole wasn’t huge, but it was deep enough. The seafloor dropped off unexpectedly, and Kai plunged into it, his arms flailing, water slamming into his face. He opened his mouth to scream, but seawater rushed in, burning his throat.
Panic clawed at him instantly. His feet couldn’t find the bottom, his arms thrashed without rhythm, and the salt stung his eyes until he squeezed them shut. Up. He had to go up. But his body spun, disoriented, the current tugging him sideways.
Kai’s chest screamed for air. He kicked blindly, desperate, but he’d never learned how to swim, knew only terror, the weight of water crushing in from all sides. The surface shimmered somewhere above, impossibly far away.
I’m drowning.
The thought was sharp and certain, and it ripped through his panic with icy clarity.
But then—hands. Strong hands. One under his arm, another pressing firm against his back, steadying him. He was being pulled. Not by the tide. By someone.
Kai’s eyes cracked open, blurry with salt. For an instant, he thought he was hallucinating. Auburn hair floating around a face, eyes glowing even in the murk. And below, movement, powerful and alien. A tail. Scales glinting faintly before wrapping around him to hold him steady.
Jay.
The merman had him.
The world blurred in bubbles and salt, but Jay’s grip was unyielding, strong in a way Kai couldn’t fight even if he wanted to. Kai couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, but he knew one thing: Jay wasn’t letting him go.
With a sharp kick of his tail, Jay propelled them upward. The pressure shifted, light filtered brighter, and then suddenly Kai’s head broke the surface. Air. Harsh, burning air. He gasped, choked, coughed, every breath clawing at his throat as Jay kept him steady, one arm hooked tightly under Kai’s shoulders.
Kai clung without thinking, his nails digging into damp skin. He was shaking, his limbs useless, the taste of salt thick in his mouth. “I-can’t-” he wheezed.
Jay’s expression was tight with worry. His English faltered, the words heavy but urgent: “Safe. With me. Breathe.”
Kai coughed again, spitting seawater, but he managed to drag in another desperate lungful of air. He stared at Jay, close enough now to see the strange patterns in his irises, the shimmer of scales along his shoulders where the sun touched.
“You-” Kai’s voice cracked. “You saved me.”
Jay’s eyes flicked toward the shore, sharp with caution. “Others. Come?”
Kai followed his gaze, his stomach dropping when he spotted Cole running down the beach like a storm, panic etched in every line of his body. Behind him, Nya and the others were hurrying, shouting Kai’s name.
“No-wait-” Kai rasped, gripping tighter to Jay. “Don’t go.”
But Jay’s face twisted with fear, his body already tensing. He couldn’t be seen again. Not with so many humans rushing closer.
“Jay!” Kai shouted, voice hoarse, but the ocean swallowed it.
Jay’s hand brushed Kai’s chest once, lingering for the barest second in something like a promise, before he slipped free. His tail flicked powerfully, dragging him under in a whirl of bubbles.
By the time Cole reached him and hauled him upright in the shallows, Jay was gone.
Kai collapsed, coughing violently, his chest heaving with air that wouldn’t stay.
“Kai, what the hell-what were you thinking?!” Cole’s voice shook with fury and relief all at once.
But Kai’s trembling hands clutched at the water, his eyes scanning desperately for any sign of auburn hair. He’d seen him. He’d felt him. Jay had saved his life.
And no one was going to believe him.
Cole dragged Kai up out of the surf until the waves only lapped at their ankles. Kai’s chest heaved like a bellows, his limbs trembling so badly he could barely hold onto him. His lips were pale, his eyes glassy.
“Kai, stay with me,” Cole started, shaking him lightly.
Kai gagged. His stomach lurched violently, and before Cole could move, he pitched forward and vomited seawater all over Cole’s chest and arm. It came up in sick waves, salty and sour, drenching Cole’s shirt.
“Shit—” Cole hissed, half-turning so Kai didn’t choke on it, keeping an arm braced against his back. He didn’t care about the mess. He cared about the broken sob that ripped out of Kai’s throat right after.
Kai collapsed into him, crying so hard his body convulsed with it. Harsh, uneven gasps tore from his lungs as though he couldn’t decide whether to breathe or sob harder. He clutched at Cole’s shirt with weak, desperate fists, soaking it further with tears.
“I-I couldn’t-I couldn’t get up-” Kai choked out between sobs. His voice was raw, his words fragmented. “I thought-I thought I was gonna die-”
Cole’s own chest ached at the sound. He wrapped both arms around Kai, pulling him tight against him despite the wet clothes and the vomit, rocking him slightly. “You’re okay. You’re safe, Kai. I’ve got you.”
Nya skidded into the shallows a moment later, her face pale. “Oh my god”
“Back up!” Cole barked, sharper than he meant, but his arms only tightened around Kai, who was shaking so hard his teeth chattered. “He just. he needs-”
Kai buried his face into Cole’s shoulder, still sobbing, the words spilling out brokenly. “He was real, Cole. He was there; he saved me. I’m not-I’m not crazy-”
Cole closed his eyes, jaw clenched tight. He wanted to tell him it was the adrenaline talking, that Kai was confused, that it had just been the current tossing him up. But then he remembered those eyes under the water, bright and unearthly, the flash of scales.
And for the first time, Cole didn’t have an easy answer.
Kai’s sobs quieted only enough to become hiccupping gasps, his whole body sagging against Cole’s. The others hovered nearby, whispering, unsure whether to step in.
Cole rubbed a hand up and down Kai’s back, his voice gentler now. “It’s alright. You’re safe. I’ve got you. No one’s gonna let you drown.”
But Kai’s voice was a raw rasp against his collar. “He saved me, Cole. Not you. Him. Jay.”
And Cole didn’t know how to respond.
---
Kai had been waiting for this moment all week. No Cole hovering over his shoulder, no Nya watching him like a hawk, no Lloyd dragging him into his games. Just him, the sand, and hopefully… auburn hair flashing in the waves.
His chest buzzed with anticipation as he walked down the familiar path toward the secluded cove. He could already imagine Jay surfacing with that bright, curious look, like he’d been waiting too. Maybe this time they’d really talk-maybe he could even get Jay to trust him more.
But when Kai pushed past the last stretch of dune grass, his heart stopped.
The cove wasn’t empty. Not even close.
People clustered along the shoreline, men in dark wetsuits wading out into the water with nets slung over their shoulders. Heavy equipment trucks idled higher up on the sand, their doors flung open. A portable spotlight lay half-buried in the dunes, and a small group in uniform huddled around it.
Kai froze. His eyes darted to the nearest adult, broad-shouldered, badge glinting in the sun. A cop.
“What-what’s going on?” Kai asked, voice pitching higher than he meant.
The officer barely looked at him. “Beach is closed, kid. Go back to the public section.”
“No, seriously. What’s happening here?”
That got the man’s attention. His eyes narrowed, scanning Kai like he was just another nosy tourist. “You didn’t hear? We’ve got a confirmed sighting. Merman. This whole stretch is restricted while we help the scientists bring it in for study.”
Kai’s stomach dropped.
Merman.
Jay.
The cop’s tone was matter-of-fact, like they were talking about catching a stray dog. He jerked his chin toward the water. “We’ll be done when it’s secured. Now move along.”
But Kai’s feet wouldn’t budge. His throat went dry, rage bubbling hot under his skin. “Secured? You mean hunted.”
The officer’s jaw twitched. “Careful what you’re accusing, kid. You don’t want trouble.”
Kai barely heard him. His eyes had already flicked toward the water. The waves broke against the shore like nothing was wrong, but he knew better. Somewhere out there, Jay was probably watching. Probably terrified.
Kai’s hands curled into fists. He’d seen the way Jay disappeared the second Cole came near. He’d seen how cautious, how nervous, he was every time he surfaced. Now he knew why. This wasn’t just paranoia. This was real.
The hunters were here.
And Kai had walked straight into it.
---
Jay had learned to listen to the ocean the way humans listened to the wind. Every shift in the current carried whispers-fish darting, boats slicing across the surface, storms rolling in long before the sky darkened. But this morning the whispers were wrong.
Too heavy. Too sharp.
Jay pressed his ear fin flat against the water and listened. The sound wasn’t storm or sea creature. It was… metal. Boats that didn’t belong. Nets dragging through the waves. Voices, too many voices, echoing off the cliffs where his cove usually cradled him in quiet.
He sank deeper, eyes darting up through the shimmer of sunlight on the surface. Black figures stood on the sand. Some carried long poles, others nets with weighted edges that glinted like knives. His chest clenched.
Hunters.
Jay’s throat tightened with a low keening noise, one he quickly muffled with his hand. His kind had always known this day would come. The elders told them to never linger near human shores, that curiosity would be the end of them. He’d believed it. He had.
Until Kai.
Jay’s chest ached at the memory of Kai’s face, so open, so stubborn, the boy splashing into the water like he belonged there even though he clearly didn’t. Humans weren’t supposed to look at him that way. They were supposed to fear or sneer. Not stare with wide, warm eyes like Jay was something… beautiful.
But Kai wasn’t here today. Only men with nets. And Jay was very, very alone.
He edged backward, tail flicking against the sandbar beneath him. He needed to leave, swim far beyond the cove, deeper into open waters where the hunters couldn’t follow. He turned only to stop dead when a human voice carried across the water.
Not sharp. Not commanding. Familiar.
Jay’s head jerked back toward shore, heart pounding. Through the clusters of black-suited hunters, he saw a figure standing out of place. No weapons. No nets. Just a boy in simple clothes, dark hair ruffled by the wind.
Kai.
Jay’s pulse leapt so hard it hurt. He shouldn’t have come. Why was he here? Couldn’t he see the danger circling him on all sides? Jay hovered just under the surface, every instinct screaming to dive deep, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
Kai was talking to one of the uniformed men. From this distance, Jay couldn’t make out the words, but he saw the way Kai’s hands moved, how his body leaned forward, tense and restless. He looked angry. Defensive.
For me?
Jay’s chest squeezed. That made no sense. Humans didn’t defend their kind. They caged them. Cut them.
The sharp splash of a weighted net hit the water only yards away. Jay flinched hard, tail curling tight against his body. He darted backward, heart racing, sand stirring up around him. One wrong move, and they’d see him.
He pressed himself low, chest scraping the ocean floor, watching as the net sank and swayed in the current before being hauled back up, mercifully empty.
But the message was clear. They weren’t leaving until they had him.
Jay’s gaze slid back to Kai, panic swirling in his chest. Did Kai know? Did he understand what “scientific study” meant? Or was he just another human boy who didn’t realize yet how cruel his world could be?
No-Jay shook his head fiercely. Kai was different. He’d seen it in his eyes, in the way he spoke slowly, carefully, trying to bridge the gap in their words instead of giving up. In the way he’d risked drowning, foolish and brave, just to be near him.
Kai wasn’t like the hunters. But that didn’t mean Jay could trust him with his life.
A shout rang out. One of the men pointed toward the waves. Jay’s blood froze. Had they spotted his tail? His hair?
Without thinking, Jay kicked hard, propelling himself deeper. The water grew colder as he shot downward, lungs tightening with the need to breathe. He swam under the sandbar and out into a darker stretch of water where the hunters’ nets couldn’t sink so easily.
Still, his mind screamed with images of ropes tangling around his fins, hands grabbing his arms, cages shutting tight. He’d heard the stories from other survivors-those who barely escaped. He’d sworn he’d never be that careless.
And yet.
He glanced back once more. Kai was still there, shoulders stiff, jaw set in a way that made Jay’s chest ache. The boy wasn’t leaving, even with danger all around him.
Jay pressed a hand to his lips, then to his heart, a gesture of silent promise taught by his people long ago. He doubted Kai could see it from that far, but the motion calmed him, steadied him.
I’ll come back, he thought. When it’s safe, I’ll find you again.
Then, with one last flick of his tail, Jay vanished into the deeper blue, leaving only ripples behind.
As Jay swam away - or at least tried to things started flying past him.
The sharp pain came without warning.
Something heavy slammed into Jay’s side, and the world burst white with agony. His cry broke into bubbles, escaping his mouth before he could stop it. He twisted hard, instinct driving him to flee, but his tail didn’t answer the way it should. A throbbing weight dragged him sideways, every flick of his fins sending lightning-hot pain lancing through his ribs.
Net. Stone. Weapon. He couldn’t tell. All he knew was that he couldn’t swim straight.
The water around him clouded red. His red.
Panic roared in his ears. If he stayed near the surface, they’d finish him. Nets would close, ropes would bind. He couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t.
He darted clumsily downward, but the injury slowed him, every movement jerky and weak. The shadows of hunters swam above, their shouts muffled by the water. One pointed, another dove. They knew. They knew.
Jay’s lungs burned. He pressed a trembling hand to his wound, trying to keep the blood from spreading, but it was hopeless. He was leaving a trail behind him, a beacon that screamed here, here, here!
He couldn’t outswim them like this.
His people had a word for it-tarlis. The last defense of the desperate. Pretend to be nothing. Surrender to stillness. Trick the hunters into believing you weren’t worth the effort.
Jay had never thought he’d use it.
His chest heaved as he let the ocean cradle him, limbs going limp, eyes half-lidded. He forced the frantic beat of his heart to still, forced his tail to slacken and drift like broken seaweed. He let his body bob upward, floating just beneath the surface, pale face tilted toward the sun.
The hunters closed in. Two swam close enough that their shadows darkened his vision. Jay’s pulse clawed at his throat, begging him to move, but he kept still.
“Dead one,” a voice grunted from above. The sound carried faintly through the water. “Already bled out.”
Another voice answered, sharper, impatient. “Not worth hauling. We’ve catalogued plenty of carcasses. Waste of storage space.”
Boots shifted on the sand, equipment clattered. The voices moved away.
And then-nothing.
They left him. Just like that.
Relief and horror tangled in Jay’s chest, choking him. They’d bought the trick. They thought he was useless, rotting meat. Not a living thing. Not someone who’d laughed at Kai’s clumsy words, or marveled at the way the sun caught fire in his hair. Not someone who had dreams and fears and a name.
Just a corpse.
His throat burned with the need for air. He waited until their shadows shrank, until the vibrations of their boots dulled against the seabed. Only then did he twitch his fins, just enough to edge himself toward deeper water, away from the sandbars where they hunted. Every movement screamed pain, the wound at his side tearing open with fresh stabs of fire.
But he had to move. He had to live.
For Kai.
The thought struck him as hard as the injury had. He should’ve been thinking about his people, about the elders waiting for him beyond the reefs, about survival for survival’s sake. But all he could see in his mind was Kai’s face on the shore, eyes wide, body angled like he wanted to throw himself between Jay and the hunters.
No human had ever looked at Jay like that.
And now… Jay didn’t know if he’d ever see him again.
The sea grew darker around him as he forced himself further out. His breaths came ragged, each one scraping his throat raw. He pressed his hand harder against his wound, tried to pretend the blood wasn’t seeping out between his fingers.
“Just a little farther,” he whispered in his own tongue, words bubbling out in broken sound. “Just a little…”
The ocean answered with silence.
Jay shut his eyes, letting the current tug him, willing it to carry him somewhere safe. Somewhere away from nets and weapons and men who didn’t care if he lived or died.
Somewhere, Kai would never find his body.
Jay had been drifting for hours or maybe just a few minutes; he couldn't really keep count.
Then-hands.
Warm, firm, steady hands slid under his arms, lifting him with surprising gentleness. Jay’s eyes snapped open in panic. He expected nets, ropes, the cold glare of human hunters. His body stiffened, tail twitching weakly.
But it wasn’t them.
“Jaylan!” a voice cried in his native tongue, heavy with fear. “Jaylan, hold on.”
His vision cleared enough to see a familiar face hovering above him-silver hair braided tight, eyes sharp and gleaming like shells polished smooth by the tide. Zane. One of the older scouts. His hands gripped him with the confidence of someone who’d pulled countless injured swimmers from danger.
Behind him, more figures shimmered into view, tails fanning the water in a coordinated arc. His people.
Relief cracked Jay’s chest wide open. He sagged into Zane’s hold, too exhausted to speak.
They moved fast. One slid a woven kelp sling beneath his body, another pressed a thick strip of seagrass over the bleeding wound at his ribs. Cool, numbing herbs seeped into the cut, dulling the fire of pain. Jay gasped again, this time softer, the pressure easing just enough for him to breathe.
“Foolish boy,” Zane muttered, though her tone trembled with something closer to grief than anger. “We warned you about the humans. Why would you stay so close to their shores?”
Jay tried to answer, but only a strangled sound came out. The words caught in his throat, tangled between pain and shame.
Because of Kai.
The thought burned him, even now. What would they say if they knew he’d risked everything for the chance to see a human boy again? That he’d ignored every warning, every tale of death and capture, just to feel those curious eyes on him?
No-he couldn’t tell them. Not yet.
The group propelled him swiftly through the water, their tails cutting a path through currents Jay would never have managed alone in his condition. He drifted in and out, darkness curling at the edges of his vision. But whenever he slipped too far, a hand would shake him gently, a voice calling his name, urging him to stay awake.
The sea around them grew brighter, warmer. Coral towers stretched upward, streaked with gold and green, teeming with darting fish that scattered at their approach. Finally, they slipped into the shelter of an undersea cavern where the current stilled, replaced by the steady glow of bioluminescent moss clinging to the stone walls.
Home.
He was laid carefully upon a bed of woven kelp and soft sponge. The healers came at once, their hands sure as they worked the seagrass poultice deeper, binding his wound with layers of tough, pliant algae. One pressed a paste of crushed shells to his lips, urging him to swallow. The bitter taste hit his tongue, and warmth spread through his chest as the pain ebbed further.
Jay’s breathing steadied. His tail uncurled, fins twitching weakly. He blinked up at the healers, at Zane hovering just behind them with arms folded tight, worry written plain on his face.
“You live,” one of the healers murmured, satisfaction softening their voice. “The sea favors you, reckless as you are.”
Jay managed a weak laugh, bubbles drifting from his lips. It hurt to laugh, but it felt good too, proof he was still alive, still here.
But when the healers stepped back, murmuring to each other about the depth of the wound and the risk of infection, Zane swam closer. His gaze was sharp as a blade.
“You will tell me, Jaylan,” he said, low and firm. “Why were you there? Why would you surface near humans again, when you know what they do to us?”
Jay swallowed hard. His body screamed for rest, his head spun with exhaustion, but Zane's eyes demanded an answer.
For a moment, he almost said it. Almost confessed about Kai, about the boy who had smiled at him like sunlight, who had splashed clumsily in the waves and made Jay feel something no warning tale could erase.
But the words caught on his tongue.
Instead, he whispered, “I just… wanted to see the sky.”
It wasn’t a full lie.
Zanes’s frown deepened, but she said nothing more. He only smoothed a hand over his damp hair, the gesture unexpectedly tender, before pushing back toward the healers.
Jay let his eyes drift shut again, exhaustion pulling him under. The pain dulled to a distant throb, the voices around him fading into the steady hum of the ocean.
But even as he slipped into sleep, one thought clung stubbornly to him.
He hadn’t lied entirely. He had wanted to see the sky. But more than that, that-he’d wanted to see Kai.
And no matter how much it hurt, no matter how reckless it was… he knew he’d want to again.
---
Kai couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t think.
One second, he was watching the hunters drag their nets through the water, his chest tight with dread, and the next, he saw it.
A flash of auburn hair. A body drifting in the waves, limp, pale, blood clouding around it.
“No-no, no, no!”
His feet pounded against the wet sand before he realized he was running. The water slapped up his legs, dragging at his jeans, but he didn’t stop. His arms flailed, trying to push him deeper, closer. He didn’t care if he couldn’t swim. Didn’t care if the undertow pulled him under. All he knew was that Jay was out there, dying.
“Kai!”
Strong hands clamped around his shoulders, yanking him backward just as a wave crashed against his chest. He stumbled, choked, and turned to see Cole, his face drawn tight with panic.
“Are you insane?! You can’t-”
“He’s out there!” Kai’s voice cracked, raw with desperation. He shoved against Cole’s grip, thrashing like a trapped animal. “They killed him, Cole! I saw him! He’s dead!”
Cole’s arms locked tighter, pinning him in place. “There’s nothing you can do-”
“Don’t say that!”
Kai’s scream ripped out of him, so loud that people turned on the beach. His vision blurred as tears spilled hot and fast, mixing with the salt spray. He collapsed against Cole’s chest, fists pounding weakly. “He was real. He was real, and they killed him.”
By then, Nya and Lloyd had reached them. Nya dropped to her knees in the sand beside him, her hand gripping his wrist tight.
“Kai, hey-look at me. Breathe. Just breathe.”
But Kai couldn’t. His chest heaved, shallow and jagged, every breath cut off by sobs. He could still see it burned into his mind: Jay’s body, slack and still, just another carcass to the hunters.
Nya crouched low, his voice steady but urgent. “Kai. You will choke on your own tears if you do not slow down. Focus here-look at me.”
Lloyd hovered behind them, his own face pale and stricken. He glanced toward the water, then back at Kai. “Are you sure? You really saw-?”
“Yes!” Kai snapped, the word ragged. His hands fisted in Cole’s shirt, clutching so tight his knuckles ached. “He’s gone, Lloyd. They killed him, left him to rot like he was nothing!”
Cole’s arms tightened around him, one hand cradling the back of Kai’s head as if trying to anchor him in place. “I’ve got you. Just let it out, man. I’ve got you.”
Kai buried his face against Cole’s chest, sobbing so hard it shook his entire body. His knees gave out, sand grinding into his skin as he crumpled. Nya slid closer, rubbing circles into his back even as her own voice trembled.
“It’s okay, Kai. We’re here. You’re not alone.”
But it wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. Because Jay had been more than just a myth, more than a fleeting shadow in the water. He’d been real. He’d smiled at Kai, spoken halting words, risked being seen. And now gone.
All because humans couldn’t see him as anything but a specimen.
Kai’s tears soaked into Cole’s shirt, his voice breaking on a whisper. “I should’ve protected him.”
“You couldn’t have,” Cole said quietly, though his own throat sounded tight. “They were hunters. You couldn’t have stopped them.”
But Kai didn’t believe it. His heart twisted with guilt, hot and unbearable. If he’d run faster, if he’d shouted louder, if he’d done anything-maybe Jay wouldn’t be floating lifeless in the waves.
He clung tighter, sobbing until his body shook, while the others closed in around him-friends forming a shield against the world.
And still, even through his grief, one thought kept cutting through, sharp and relentless.
Jay had been real. And Kai would never forget him.
---
Kai had lost track of how many nights he’d fallen asleep on tear-stained pillows, dreams of auburn hair and wide, unsure eyes haunting him every time he closed his own.
A whole month. Exactly one month since that day on the beach when everything shattered. Since hunters had stormed Jay’s hidden cove, rifles and nets cutting through the air like cruel blades. Since Kai had watched helplessly from the dunes, held back by Cole and Nya while Jay disappeared beneath foaming waves.
The hunters had come back empty-handed, muttering about how the “specimen” was gone, about how maybe the body had drifted too deep to recover. But the way they spoke had left no hope, like Jay was nothing more than a carcass already claimed by the sea.
And Kai had believed them.
He hated himself for it.
Every day after, he’d walked the beach, searching. He’d dive in sometimes, lungs burning, searching through coral and seaweed for even a scrap of Jay’s presence. Nothing. Only empty waves.
Cole had told him he needed to stop. Even Lloyd had told him Jay would want him to move forward. But Kai couldn’t. He wasn’t moving forward. He wasn’t moving anywhere at all.
And today, it had been a month. His chest hurt with it.
So he had made something.
Kai crouched near the shoreline, sand sticking to his knees, and set down the little raft he had built. Nothing fancy. Just driftwood tied with rope, the edges smoothed so it wouldn’t sink right away. On top of it, he placed the things he’d been holding onto all this time.
A necklace Jay had fiddled with the night before they met the hunters. Seashells Kai had collected from the spot where Jay liked to surface. A scrap of red cloth Jay had once grabbed curiously, asking in broken words if it was “fire like sun.”
And one last thing-a small paper note Kai had written. The edges were already damp from the salt air, the ink blotchy, but the words were still there:
“For Jay. I miss you. I wish I could have protected you.”
Kai swallowed hard. His hands trembled as he pushed the raft into the tide. The waves caught it, pulling it slowly, almost tenderly, out toward open water.
“Guess this is goodbye for real,” Kai whispered, voice breaking.
He stayed crouched there, staring, until his knees ached. The raft drifted farther and farther. The seashells glinted once before a wave washed over them.
Kai’s throat burned. His vision blurred. He wiped at his face furiously, angry at himself for crying again.
And then-
Movement.
Not the raft. Not a wave. Something else.
Something alive.
Kai blinked hard, convinced it was another trick of grief, another cruel hope his brain conjured up. But the shape didn’t vanish.
It rose higher. Closer.
And then he saw it-saw auburn hair plastered wet against a pale face, shoulders breaking the water, blue eyes tired but unmistakably there.
Kai’s breath caught. His whole body locked.
“...Jay?”
The world tilted.
It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t.
But then those eyes lifted, slow, pained, and Jay’s voice rasped over the water.
“Kai…”
It was broken. Rough. His English still fractured, words dragged like they hurt to speak. But it was him. Alive.
Kai’s scream tore out of him before he even realized. “JAY!”
He stumbled forward into the surf, splashing, nearly falling face-first as waves crashed against his legs. He didn’t care. His arms reached out instinctively.
Jay flinched when Kai’s hands finally touched him, his body stiff and trembling. Up close, Kai could see the damage-the way Jay’s chest rose shallow, ribs wrapped in crude bandages, the faint dark stain of blood seeping through. The gills along his neck looked angry and swollen, one of them torn where it should have been smooth.
“Oh my god,” Kai breathed, tears rushing back. “You’re real. You’re really here-”
Jay’s arms came up slowly, weakly, barely circling Kai’s shoulders. His voice cracked like glass.
“No die… I not die.”
Kai buried his face in Jay’s damp hair, clutching him like he’d never let go again. The scent of salt and sea clung sharp, grounding. “I thought I lost you. I thought-I thought they-”
“Hunters bad,” Jay muttered, pressing his forehead to Kai’s collarbone. “Shoot. Hurt… me.”
Kai pulled back, just enough to look at him. “They shot you?”
Jay gave a tiny nod, grimacing. “Rib… here. Gill… bad. Swim badly.” He coughed, sharp and wet. “Play… dead. They go.”
The words came haltingly, but Kai pieced them together. Jay had tricked them. Pretended to be lifeless until they left.
Kai’s stomach turned. The thought of Jay floating there, wounded and forcing himself to look dead, was unbearable.
“But your people,” Kai asked quickly, brushing his thumb across Jay’s cheek, “they found you, right?”
Jay’s lips twitched. “Yes. Home. Heal.” He tilted his head, wincing at the movement. “But… I miss. Miss you. Come see.”
Kai’s throat closed up again.
A whole month. And Jay still came back. Still remember him.
“You idiot,” Kai whispered, half-laughing through tears. “You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were gone forever.”
Jay blinked, confused. “Gone… forever?”
“Dead,” Kai said, voice cracking on the word. “I thought you were dead.”
Jay frowned, shaking his head weakly. “No die. Live. For Kai.”
Kai’s chest shattered all over again. He hugged Jay tighter, careful not to crush his ribs.
“I don’t care if you’re hurt. I don’t care if it’s dangerous. Just don’t disappear like that again, okay? Don’t let me think I lost you.”
Jay made a small sound, almost a hum. His words were softer this time, almost like a promise.
“No, gone. I stay. Always stay.”
Kai felt the water rock around them, cool and endless, but for the first time in a month, he wasn’t drowning. He was holding Jay, alive and breathing, against him.
And that was everything.
Kai couldn’t stop staring.
Even with the bruises shadowing his ribs and the swollen gills, even with exhaustion dragging at every movement, Jay was breathtaking. His auburn hair clung wet against his temples, strands curling down over his sharp cheekbones. His eyes were heavy-lidded but still impossibly bright, the same shifting blue as the water that held them both.
And he was right there. Close enough that Kai could feel the faint rise and fall of his chest against him, close enough that their breaths mingled when the waves broke around them.
Kai’s heart was slamming so hard he thought Jay could probably feel it too. He wanted-god, he wanted to lean in, close the tiny distance, kiss him until the whole world blurred away. But the thought made him freeze.
What if Jay didn’t feel the same? What if Jay had only come back to thank him, or to say goodbye properly? What if Kai ruined everything by being selfish?
He swallowed hard, keeping his arms braced carefully around Jay so he wouldn’t slip beneath the water. He should say something, he thought. Something that would make the moment clear. But his throat refused to work, and the words tangled uselessly in his chest.
Jay tilted his head slowly, eyes flicking from Kai’s mouth to his eyes. His expression was unreadable, but there was a new tension in it, a quiet kind of searching.
Kai blinked. “Jay…?”
Before he could ask, Jay leaned forward.
Soft. Warm. Unexpected.
Kai went still as Jay’s lips pressed against his own, tentative at first, almost shy. But the contact sent fire rushing through him. The saltwater on Jay’s skin, the heat of his mouth, the small tremor that passed from Jay’s body into his-it was real. It was happening.
Jay pulled back just a fraction, breath shaky. “Kai… want.” The broken English made Kai’s chest ache even more.
“Y-you…” Kai stammered, stunned. “You want… this?”
Jay gave a tiny nod, his face red even beneath the flush of seawater. “Want Kai.”
That was all Kai needed.
The restraint he’d been holding onto snapped. He cupped Jay’s face with both hands and kissed him back, harder this time, desperate and messy. Jay gasped softly, then melted into it, lips parting under Kai’s. The taste of salt and something wild filled Kai’s mouth.
They kissed again and again, breaths growing ragged, their mouths sliding together with more urgency each time. Kai felt Jay’s fingers clutch weakly at his shoulders, pulling him closer, holding on like he’d never let go.
“God,” Kai whispered against his lips, voice breaking. “I missed you so much.”
Jay pressed their foreheads together, panting. “Miss Kai. Every day.” His words were choppy, but the raw honesty in them made Kai’s throat tighten.
Kai kissed him again, slower this time, letting it sink in. Jay responded with a soft sound-half whimper, half sigh-that went straight through Kai’s chest.
The world around them didn’t matter. Not the crash of waves, not the gulls crying overhead, not the sand scraping at Kai’s knees. All that mattered was Jay in his arms, alive, warm, kissing him back like he wanted this just as badly.
Kai’s hands slid down to Jay’s waist, feeling the cool slickness of scales beneath his palms. He broke the kiss only long enough to breathe out, “You’re beautiful,” before diving back in.
Jay laughed weakly against his mouth, the sound breathless but real. “No… Kai, beautiful.”
Kai let out a strangled laugh of his own, burying himself in another kiss before the tears could win. Jay’s lips were a little clumsy, sometimes missing their mark, but Kai didn’t care. It was perfect.
When they finally broke apart again, both gasping, Kai rested his forehead against Jay’s, trembling from the force of it all.
“I don’t ever want to lose you again,” Kai whispered.
Jay touched his cheek clumsily, words thick and broken but full of meaning. “No loss. Always here.”
Kai kissed him one last time, softer now, sealing the promise between them.