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Gris is a smart man. He swears he is. Despite this fact, some may call him a space cadet when it comes to the ocean, his first love. He allows the currents to carry him to places far, wide, and unknown. It's why he's one of Cleaner HQ's top marine biologists, after all, daring to go to places where people are too afraid to travel. He's more than willing to carry that burden because he's an important part of a grand mission. He studies, observes, and above all protects marine organisms that can't defend themselves. He's a protector, always was, and always will be.
It's important to reiterate how smart Gris is, though he did let his mind wander into the deep sea, where only the creepiest of creatures inhabit. Surely this smart man is prepared for any situation, right? Wrong. The problem is that though his scuba gear is well-equipped with all the necessities, he didn't foresee himself losing his trusty knife during his deep dive. No big deal, he was just here to collect some data and head on back to the surface. That was the plan, but he can't help it if the sweet siren song of ocean life calls to him, coaxing him to dive deeper, pushing him damn near past his air supply. Gris certainly didn't plan on getting one of his fins stuck in a net, a strong ass net of all things, stronger than any net he's had to deal with. No matter how hard he tugs on his leg or pulls that damn netting, it just won't budge. He checks his air gauge and curses. It's not looking too hot. Maybe Tomme was right, and he should've brought her along for backup. Gris shakes his head and refocuses, shining his flashlight at any rocks that seem sharp enough to get him out of this. Simple. This is all very simple.
The light goes out.
Right.
Gris tries to slow down his breathing as best as he can. He ignores how his heart feels like it's going to crack out of his sternum with the way it beats. He taps the flashlight against the palm of his hand and almost rejoices when it flickers… only for it to go out. His eyes widen in disbelief. This can't be it. Gris silently says a prayer, any prayer, many prayers, and looks down at his stuck foot. Tomme and Follo must be freaking out up there, wondering why their mentor hasn't returned to them yet. Maybe they're calling for help; that thought should bring him comfort, but it only brings him anguish. They shouldn't need to do that. Gris should be up there, but he's stubborn, and he let himself get swept away. He should be better than this, more responsible, more— is that a light in the distance?
Gris's eyebrow raises a brow. An Anglerfish? He shouldn't be surprised, given where he's at, but why does it seem like it's stalking towards him as if he were the prey? More importantly, that light seems far too big to belong to just any fish. Gris stays calm, or as calm as he can be. A clicking sound is heard from the creature, the noise resembling the eerie settling of an old house. The closer it gets, the more apparent the features become; two ghostly, glowing yellow eyes stare deep into his own lively blue ones. He notices the way they survey him, slowly trailing down his body to his current predicament. Gris stares in awe at the creature's human-like features: sharp jawline, defined nose, and arched eyebrows. There are fins where human ears should be; black earrings adorn the lobes. He notices hints of blonde curls framing its face. Gris lets out a soft gasp.
"A mermaid…?" He whispers, staring in awe at the sight before him. It blinks at him, and an unmoving blank expression stays on its face. Gris has heard many stories about their kind; everyone has. Stories of those who are half-human and half-fish who tend to enchant humans with their beauty, and boy, is Gris hooked. Gris isn't even phased by the prospect of getting dragged to his very death, as the stories often go. He isn't scared at all. In fact, he's never felt so relaxed in his life. They say these particular types of mermaids are often described as solitary ambush predators. Gris should be just as, if not even more, terrified than he was before, but his heartbeat doesn't quicken out of fear; it's something else. The mermaid notices, of course, and it breaks out into a sly smile. Gris can see the sharpness of its teeth. His eyes widen, and he wants to explore every inch of that mouth. For research purposes.
Then, slowly, the mermaid lifts a hand and spreads it out. Its hand is webbed, and Gris eyes the sharp claws, and shivers in excitement. He hesitates, but follows the action and presses his gloved hand to the mermaid's bare one. Gris doesn't take his eyes off its illuminated face, watching the previous smile drop into astonishment. The mermaid's fins flutter, and a red light starts to glow from its skin. The pattern that shines is breathtaking. Gris sees red clouds that cover the creature's forearms, and stripes that swirl around its body like a cyclone. What a beautiful storm. It— he. He is a beautiful storm. Gris wonders where all those paths lead to, and if he'll be allowed to trace them one day. They don't move hands for what feels like ages, until Gris remembers the situation he's in.
"Can you help me?" Gris pleads, still entranced, wondering if this is all a dream instead of a sick nightmare. It seems that his new companion was having similar thoughts. The mermaid furrows his eyebrows in confusion until he looks down at the netting that has Gris's foot trapped, and snaps out of his own trance. He removes his hand from Gris's, and Gris tries to disregard the feeling of disappointment because that's not important. Gris watches him reach down and promptly free his foot. Gris lets out a sigh of relief and wiggles his foot around. He checks his air gauge once more and clicks his tongue. He has to get out of here. Before Gris can even blink, he feels arms snake around his waist. He turns to find those glowing yellow eyes staring directly at him, scanning his face. The mermaid then nods and propels them upward to the surface.
Any other human would be beyond stressed, anxious, and panicked, but Gris is oddly at peace. They glide through the water with ease, and a feeling of tranquility washes over him as he feels himself smile at the now more visible sea creatures, the closer they get to the surface. He turns his head to look at the one carrying him, and is surprised to find a soft smile on his face, dimples in full view. Gris is grateful that the stranger is too busy swimming to notice how Gris's face flushes. He feels the grip around his waist tighten, and Gris quickly turns his head away and gulps. Right, his heartbeat, he can feel that.
The moment they pop up, he hears the cries of his two interns and is immediately pained with guilt. Gris begins supporting himself on his own and feels the two strong arms release him. Whether or not Gris already misses the feeling of someone holding is neither here nor there. What's here is a mermaid, and what's there is his team.
"Oh my god, Follo, I see him! Gris! You know, you call me reckless, but here you go, doing dumb shit!"
"Tomme… let's make sure he's ok first, please?"
Gris lets some of his own anxiety dissipate in favor of the amusement he finds every time those two bicker. They'll ease up once he orders pizza for the night. He turns around, hoping to catch a better glimpse of his savior, only to be met by a splash of water. Gris sputters and all of a sudden… he's gone. He sees a flick of a tail in the distance, and that's it. Huh.
"Gris Rubion, get your ass over here now!" The demanding tone in Tomme's voice snaps him out of his… whatever spell he was just in. He turns back around and starts swimming towards shore, not before glancing over his shoulder in hopes of seeing that mythical being again.
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
"You're shitting me."
"A mermaid!?"
"You're shitting me!"
"Was she cute?"
"You're— Tomme?" Follo asks in disbelief. Tomme shrugs and chews on her slice of pizza with a grin. Follo shakes his head and looks at Gris, who is deep into his journal, scribbling down notes. They sit at the dining table with three pizza boxes, and Gris hasn't touched his box, which is mildly concerning to those who know him. Follo sighs and reaches over to knock on the top of Gris's head. He does not flinch, too preoccupied with sketching out the specimen's— no, that's not right. Sketching out his new… friend? Pal? He doesn't know, whatever. He's sketching out the mermaid's mouth, trying to guess how many of those beautiful, sharp teeth are in that perfect mouth of his. He made sure to include his dimples. They're important.
"So," Tomme begins, "was she cute?" Gris grunts like a caveman, and Tomme giggles. She takes this opportunity to drape her arm over Gris's shoulder and peer at his sketches. A very Tomme thing to do. "Oooo, she has dimples," she teases. Gris lets out an annoyed huff and continues sketching, moving onto his webbed hand that he wishes he could've seen better.
"He," Gris mutters. He completely ignores the obvious shit-eating grin that's prevalent on Tomme's face.
"Was he cute?"
"…"
"Oh my god, you think he's cute!" Tomme cheers, and Follo chokes on his pizza. Gris puts down his pencil and groans into his hands. "Be a mentor for college students!" They said. "It'll be great!" They said. Why does he feel like he's on trial right now?
"You think a mermaid is cute?" Follo questions, and Gris snaps his eyes up at Follo, raising an eyebrow. Tomme follows suit, pointing her half-eaten slice at Follo in an accusatory fashion.
"What's wrong with that?" Gris and Tomme say in unison, causing Follo to flinch and scratch the back of his neck.
"Nothing! It's just… in the stories… don't they usually kill humans?" Follo whispers the last part, and Gris can feel himself melt as he softens his gaze. He was down there for a while, and he knows he gave those two quite a scare. They deserve a better apology than some local pizza. He gets up from his seat and makes his way over to Follo. He plants a firm hand on his shoulder and provides him with a comforting smile. Follo looks at him in slight shock. He then looks over to Tomme with the same expression. Tomme cocks her head to the side in confusion.
"I'm fine, I'm alive, and I'm well, and because I'm all those things, I can give you guys the apology you two deserve. I'm sorry, I should've never gone out there on my own. I just have a habit of getting swept up in my own sense of duty that I felt like I could do it. That doesn't set a good example for you all." It actually sets a terrible example. For someone who values teamwork, he sure does know how to put his own life in danger without thinking about how others would feel, a habit he's had since he was younger. He doesn't do it out of selfishness; he does it because he cares too much, and he cares about them too much. Surely Tomme could've accompanied him; this is her third summer on his team. She's more than capable enough to join him on his underwater excursion, but he couldn't bring himself to let her. This is Follo's first summer with him, though, and he already sees so much of himself in him. All that self-doubt that eats away at him mirrors Gris's own worries. The worry that he isn't good enough to lead. He worries that if he can't do the difficult challenges on his own, then how can he do it while carrying a team on his back? His insecurities shouldn't burden them; he's too grown to be fucking up like this.
"I see you overthinking over there, big guy," Tomme sighs, shaking her head, and quickly snapping Gris out of his unhealthy train of thought. He gives her a sheepish smile. Tomme, always so incredibly observant, much to Gris's downfall at times. "You're right, you didn't set a good example for us, but that doesn't mean you get to beat yourself up over it. That especially doesn't mean you get to skip out on eating perfectly good pizza," she taps on his unopened box, "to obsessively scribble in your journal. Eat, Gris. Be in community with us. Don't just shut us out."
Gris's eyes widen in shock. Was he ever this wise at 21? Definitely not, there's no way. Follo clears his throat, and Gris glances down at Follo; the corners of the boy's mouth curl up ever-so-slightly. "I may not have known you for too long, but you're already someone I wanna make proud, and I can't do that if you die on me," Follo jokes, then lightly cringes at the informality of it all. Gris chuckles and takes Follo's hat off to ruffle his hair, earning him a squawk from the other.
"You guys are some smart kids, you know that?" Gris enjoys the way Follo beams at the compliment, knowing that he could use all the encouragement he can get. Tomme lets out a short laugh and grabs another slice of pizza. Gris gives Follo his hat back and walks back to his seat. Once he sits down and finally opens his pizza box, a yawn escapes him. He hears an exaggerated sigh come from Tomme and cocks an eyebrow at her.
"Come on, Follo, let's hurry up so Mr. Reckless Diver can get some sleep—"
"Are you going to tell the boss about what you saw?" Follo blurts out. Tomme falls silent, and Gris is met with an unwavering gaze. He finds it difficult to swallow both the spit in his mouth and Follo's question. Should he? People don't come across mermaids every day; in fact, it's been centuries since someone last documented one, from what he remembers looking up a couple of years back. This would be a great scientific breakthrough, putting Gris's name on the map, but Gris has never cared about such things. He became a Marine Biologist to protect wildlife and make the world a better place. That's it. Though maybe if he does tell the boss, nothing extreme will happen. The boss has always been the more secretive type; he's never been in it for the fame and recognition. But what of the other organizations? What if this comes out and they go on a wild hunt for mermaids to destroy their homes and take them in to perform unethical experiments in the name of science? What if they hurt him?
"I know I'm asking a lot from you two, but I need this to stay between the three of us. We don't wanna ruffle any feathers, you know?"
Follo and Tomme share a glance that Gris can't seem to decipher and nod. Tomme clears her throat and packs up her pizza box. "Come on, Follo, let's get you home. Remember, you're driving tomorrow," she teases. Follo huffs and rolls his eyes, but follows suit regardless. Gris receives a gentle smile from the boy, which he returns with a kind smile of his own. The second they leave Gris's home, he shuts the pizza box, swearing he'll eat some of it tomorrow. He isn't too hungry anyway. He turns to his journal and traces his finger along the sketches. Will he ever see him again? He hopes so.
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
Three weeks. It has been three weeks since the incident, and three weeks since Gris has gotten a proper night of rest. It's not enough to slack on his research, but it is enough for the boss to worry. Now, he has the day off. What does he do on a day off? Not much. He eats, sleeps, works out, and most importantly, he goes to the beach when the sun is setting. The beach where he often visits doesn't tend to have many visitors, especially on the side where he frequents. The second Gris's feet hit the sand, he feels eternally at peace. It's like a switch flips on, crushing the stressors in his life into nothingness. With a bag in hand, he begins his trek over to his special spot, where several large rocks are scattered around the sea. He takes out a beach towel, his laptop, and of course, his journal. Gris takes a seat and anxiously bites his lip as he turns to the page filled with sharp claws, even sharper teeth, and glowing, ominous eyes.
He can't get that creature out of his mind; he haunts his every waking moment. It's impossible to escape him, but does he even want to? It's crazy, but all he can think about is his face that shone like the sun in the deep abyss. Not to mention the bright red glow of his markings. God, the dreams that Gris has had about those markings on their own have left him in a whirlwind of emotions. There are times when he would swim out into the ocean and pray that he'll meet him again. He wants— no, he needs to study him. To observe him. Not for the world, but for Gris's eyes only.
He closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths. He lets the salty air fill his senses, bringing him to a place of calm. He enjoys the gentle embrace that the sea grants him as he finally looks out to witness the sunset. The crashing of waves captivates him. Gris has always felt the most at home when he's near the water, and even more so when the sun sets, and the moon rises to say hello. Perhaps the mermaid feels the same way; perhaps they are watching the same sun.
Suddenly, he hears a sharp whistle in the distance. He perks up and squints. What was that? Who was that? Gris shakes his head and goes back to his journal. Must be his imagination. Then he hears that same whistle, but even louder. That's what causes Gris to rise from his spot and cautiously walk closer to the water. What he sees next makes him flinch back in surprise. From one of the rocks that stand before Gris, arises him. The mermaid that has swam around his dreams for three weeks. He's magnificent. Wet golden blonde hair that sticks to his forehead and curls at the end, tan skin, murky yellow eyes that are still just as enchanting when they don't glow, and those markings. From where the mermaid is propped up on the rock, Gris can see the oddly familiar navel mark. His eyes wander up to the marks on his chest, one of them reminding him of the moon. The mermaid looks Gris up and down, and he can't help but feel like he's being drawn to him. Gris drops his journal onto the sand, not even bothering to pick it up. He slowly strips himself of his shirt and walks even closer to him. By the time the water reaches his thighs, an intense hiss comes from the mermaid. His fin-like ears flare out, and he bares his many, many sharp teeth. Huh? Gris raises an eyebrow.
"Why are you hissing at me? You literally called me over here."
"Tch." The mermaid clicks and looks the other way. Gris can't believe it. He's dealing with a mermaid who has an attitude problem. Mild irritation bubbles within him. He takes a deep breath and folds his arms. He glares at the mermaid and, in return, gets a nasty glare.
"Do you always play hard to get towards people you save? That can't make you popular amongst your friends." This earns Gris the most offended gasp from the mermaid. He feels the corners of his mouth twitch upwards as the other dramatically plants his hand against his own chest. Cute. Wait, he needs to stay focused. He clears his throat, and the creature tilts his head to the side in curiosity. "I've been thinking about you for a while, you know? Since that day." He starts to tap each of his fingers against his thumb, and he notices the way golden eyes track his movements. "I wanna thank you for that, really." Nothing happens for a while. It feels like the first time they touched. It's almost ridiculous how a scary situation turned so magical by one little press of the hand.
The blonde is still for a moment, expression blank, before a grin breaks out on his face. He dives from the rock into the water with a loud splash and slowly makes his way towards Gris. The full moon is out, shining the most perfect spotlight on the mermaid as he glides through the water. His eyes and antenna glow faintly in the distance. Gris sits down in the water, drawing shapes in the sand, waiting for him to come to him. The soft waves that crash against his torso relax him. He doesn't feel fear when he's face-to-face with the mythical creature that still has that sharp grin. He feels oddly relieved that he isn't a figment of his imagination. God, he really is even more stunning under the moonlight.
"Is it ok if I examine you?" Gris blurts out, the feeling of embarrassment quickly following afterwards. It's definitely not dark enough to conceal the full-body blush that he's rocking. The creature's smile falters for a second, then turns into a full-blown smirk as he wiggles his eyebrows. Oh no. Gris feels himself getting so hot that he wonders if the water surrounding them is boiling. "No, no, no, no, no, not like that. It's just— you know— I'm a scientist, and I just think you look— fuck, how do I put this? You look… I've never met anyone like you," Gris stammers. He's met with a dolphin-like giggle, and he no longer feels abashed. He giggles back and watches the corners of the mermaid's eyes crinkle. Cute. After their laugh, he is granted permission in the form of a nod and a wiggle of his companion's very impressive tail.
"Is it ok if I start at your tail?" Gris asks cautiously. The mermaid lazily waves his hand, chirps with a smirk. Gris feels his heart squeeze. A chirp. This is all too much, and Gris is very grateful. He shoves his hand into his pocket, pulls out his examining gloves, and puts them on. "Could you swim to the side of me, please?" Gris puts on his most professional voice, and he hears his companion huff in amusement, but he obliges. Gris is in awe at the way the other's tail encircles him. It has to be at least double Gris's height. Gris gets up and takes a couple more steps over to where the mermaid floats, his tail peeking out from under the water. Gris doesn't miss the way his red markings shape the most exquisite patterns on his back, but he'll get there eventually. Gris crouches back down and gently brings his hand down onto the skin just below his lower back. Like a true anglerfish, he doesn't have any scales; his tail is smooth and black, but also has little flecks of white scattered across it. Gris traces as many as he can, glancing over to make sure he's not being a disturbance. He smiles as he notices the mermaid's eyes are completely shut. He continues his examination, tracing along parts of his dorsal fin. Gris catches a glimpse of a specific group of dots right under his lower back. He brings his hand over to them, follows the shape it makes, and giggles. He moves up to face the mermaid with a grand smile. The other cracks an eye open and makes a confused noise.
"You know you have the Leo constellation on your tail?" Gris beams. The mermaid arches a brow and nods. Gris's charming smile turns into a smirk. "It's like a tramp stamp—" SPLASH. The motherfucker barrel rolls because he's a little shit, and now Gris is hacking up salt water. Once Gris is done coughing his lungs out, he still finds it within him to let out a boisterous laugh. The mermaid, now floating on his back, pouts. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, I couldn't help it," Gris giggles out, no longer phased by the hissing that comes his way. "No, I'm serious, really, I mean it. Forgive me?" Gris grins as he watches the creature roll his eyes and stick out his split tongue— wait… split tongue? His grin drops, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. A split tongue. Would it be wrong if he skipped a couple of steps and went straight for his mouth? For research, of course.
"Your tongue… It's split." Gris grunts out like he has no concept of English. The mermaid wiggles both tips of his tongue, and Gris notices the most shit-eating grin. That asshole is totally doing this on purpose! Gris's body begins to heat up. He takes a deep breath and decides to ask his question. In the name of science, of course. "May I," he begins, searching for the correct words, except there aren't any, " examine your mouth?"
He giggles. The mermaid, who is currently making him feel very perverted, giggles. Gris is definitely not pouting as the other flicks his tongue back and forth. Gris gingerly cups the other's cheek with his right hand, and he is gifted with the most astounding display of obedience as the blonde's mouth falls open. He leans in close, maybe too close, and begins rubbing along his gum line. He goes over each tooth, and a dangerous part of him wonders what they would feel like on him.
"Can you open your mouth wider for me?" Gris asks, and he does so effortlessly, revealing a second row of sharp teeth. "Good." He carefully traces over the back row of slightly less sharp teeth and hears a deep rumble erupt from the mermaid's chest. Is he purring? Gris feels a small smile dawn on him as he presses his thumb on the split tongue, and the sound gets louder. He's definitely purring. Gris finally looks into his eyes; they're half-lidded, pupils dilated.
"You're really into this, aren't you?" Gris whispers, allowing the blonde to roll his tongue around his thumb in response. This behavior is completely different from the one he was exhibiting earlier. This one is more… docile. Very pliant, in fact. Not what he expects from someone who is clearly a predator. He tries to ignore the burning desire that arises within him. He really tries not pay attention to his companion's bedroom eyes. Gris doesn't want to follow where his thoughts could lead him. He clears his throat and promptly removes his thumb from the mermaid's mouth. The purring abruptly stops, and they stare into each other's eyes. The murky depths of yellow meet the soft serenity of blue. The full moon shines on them. Gris isn't concerned with anything at all. He just wants to live in this moment, for as long as he can. He can't pinpoint why, or maybe he refuses to acknowledge the whole truth, but what he does know is…
"You're extraordinary," he breathes.
And that's all that matters.
𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚
They spend far too much time in the ocean, and Gris was supposed to be back home ages ago, but he got swept up in conversation. Was it easy? No, but nothing that Gris couldn't handle, seeing as the mermaid is a lot more communicative than a regular fish. The experience is similar to talking to a dolphin if they had opposable thumbs and could flip Gris off for one of his many shitty jokes.
The mermaid is currently trying to teach him his language. How did they get there? Well, Gris has always been eager to learn. He's a great student, and with hopes of seeing each other more often, he wants to be able to have some understanding of what he's being told and hopefully communicate back in the mermaidian language. It has been a trip of Gris, to say the least, but he hopes that this will strengthen their bond. He hopes that they can become… friends.
"Wait, so you do it like this?" Gris questions as he attempts to mimic the high-pitched whistle that was just shown to him. It's flat. Painfully flat, actually. Gris groans as a sharp giggle fills his ears. "Lemme try again—"
"I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore, but that was a really cute attempt."
"…what?" Gris is dumbfounded. The mermaid laughs straight in his face from where he sits in the water. What?
"Oh shit, this is too good. No, seriously though, you were doing so well, I'm impressed that you even got the clicks right. I didn't expect a human to be so tenacious about learning my language," he smirks.
"..what?"
The mermaid frowns and waves his hand in front of Gris's face. "Hello? Is anyone home? Dude, you sound like a broken record." Dude? He's speaking to him. Full-blown English sentences. He could have been speaking to him in English this whole time. Gris is reeling at that fact. Everything starts hitting him all at once. He doesn't even know his name.
"What's your name?"
"What?"
"Name. What is it?"
"…Enjin." He replies slowly. Gris mouths the name, sees how it feels, then nods.
"I'm Gris." Enjin perks up at the name and smirks.
"Ok, Gris! I like that! Probably should've given me your name before you had your thumb in my—"
Gris quickly splashes water on him. "I think I liked it better when you made dolphin noises," he grumbles. Enjin slicks his wet hair back and gasps. He splashes Gris back, and Gris can't find himself to care anymore because, for some reason, he's occupied with how good Enjin looks with his hair up like that.
"You take that back! Mermaid speech is so much cooler than whatever those dolphins got going on." Enjin jabs the pad of his finger at Gris's bare chest. They're so close, he's almost sure that Enjin can count each freckle on his face. Enjin must be thinking the same thing because his eyes dart to Gris's lips, and Gris would be lying if he said he didn't do the same. He watches Enjin lick his bottom lip, and he begins to panic internally. They skipped way too many steps, and he is very overwhelmed, but maybe this once, maybe he can give in to temptation.
"Will you visit me?" Gris whispers, it almost comes out as a plea. Will he visit him? Can he visit him?
"Do you want me to?" Enjin breathes, spreading his hand over Gris's heart; he knows he can feel the way it beats rapidly.
"Of course. Do you want to see me?" Gris grabs Enjin's wrist and thumbs his pulse point. It's beating just as fast. Enjin smiles, really smiles, and briefly, Gris wonders what kissing those dimples would do to him. He wonders what Enjin will do to him. Gris doesn't commit to that thought. He's not that brave. Yet.
"Of course," Enjin sighs, eyes growing half-lidded just like earlier.
"I wanna hear you more too. Your voice is nice," Gris says without thinking. A timid expression crosses Enjin's face, and Gris smiles. It's so stupidly endearing how nice shy looks on him. "Why didn't you speak earlier?" He inquires.
"You never asked," Enjin giggles. It's a very human-like sound this time. Gris rolls his eyes so far up his head that anyone watching would worry they might have gotten stuck. This causes Enjin's giggles to transform back into something more mermaid-like. Gris feels himself start to melt at the sound. Oh god, he really is hooked.
"Ok, asshole."
"Hey, be mad at yourself for looking like that."
"Looking like what?" Gris gently squeezes Enjin's wrist. He adores the way he softly gasps. He thinks he might adore him. Enjin isn't good for Gris's heart. He looks down at Enjin's fingers and notices the various markings that form rings around each digit except his pinky. Is it wrong that Gris may want to kiss each ring?
"…I'll be here tomorrow," Enjin purrs. Gris can't help but brush a stray curl away from his face.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." Enjin presses his lips together and reaches over to gently brush away a wet strand of hair from Gris's face. "You know, most people would be scared of me." Gris smiles softly at this sentiment.
"What is there to be scared of?" He gently murmurs. The only thing that comes to mind when he sees Enjin is the time he prayed and prayed, and someone came and saved him. What really is there to be afraid of? Enjin lets out an amused huff and shakes his head.
"I have to go; you should probably let go of my wrist now." Enjin points his lips at his wrist that is currently being held hostage by Gris's gloved hand.
" You let go of my chest first," Gris jokes. Enjin smirks and raises an eyebrow.
"Aw, you don't want me to have your heart, Grissy?"
"Grissy?"
"You like it, I know you do."
"Yeah, I do," Gris agrees and reluctantly lets go of Enjin's wrist. Enjin follows suit with the same amount of hesitation. Gris sighs and slowly rises from where he floats next to Enjin. He begins moving back to shore and shares one last glance at him. "Tomorrow?" Enjin shines those dangerously sharp teeth that he allowed Gris to explore.
"Tomorrow."