Work Text:
“I-It’s really nothing too remarkable, Clémente.” Cole stuttered out, eyes of charcoal nervously darting to the aged wooden surface beneath them.
”’Nothing too remarkable’?” Clémente parroted, almost sounding offended as though Cole had just insulted their own heritage. “Remarkable is far too light of a word to even describe it!” They laughed, playfully twirling around in the water, earning a few chuckles from their companion as the ocean splashed onto them.
Even a fool could’ve guessed that the red blossoming on Cole’s cheeks wasn’t from the blazing heat of the sun above.
Earlier that same week, Cole had approached their guardian with the timid request of a favor. They could still recall just how loudly they heard their own heart beating in embarrassment when they handed over the song draft to the Playwright.
At the time, the writer had looked over the paper with growing interest and amusement in their half-visible gaze. They’d adjusted their spectacles, and gladly agreed to Cole’s request for assistance.
And now, here they were.
A tiny pile of papers sat on the pier beside Cole’s feet, dappled with small water droplet stains from the ocean’s restlessness. Their guitalele rested comfortably in Cole’s lap, the small hands wrapped around it still tense from the melody they’d just played; reserved only for the ears of the golden-locked child in the water below.
“Do you plan to play that one at you and the other’s next show?” Clémente asked, leaning against their scaled arms on the pier, the wood in that specific spot slightly weathered from all the other times they’d done so.
Cole turned away slightly to fidget with the guitalele’s strings, “Probably not,” they muttered in response. “…i-if it’s alright, I’d prefer to keep this song between us two.”
A small pout formed on Clémente’s face for a brief moment, however it disappeared almost as quick as it came, a genuine smile instead taking its place.
“You have my word, my princess!” They proudly declared, briefly pushing themselves up and out of the water to peck Cole’s cheek. It did absolutely nothing to help the growing redness on the older child’s face.
Clémente then took to their previous position, leaning upon their arms as they stared off into the distance. It surely looked uncomfortable, Cole thought.
”I wish I could see them.” Clémente suddenly blurted, causing Cole to briefly halt in their tracks of tuning their instrument.
”See whom?” Cole asked.
”Why, you and the others, of course!” They replied readily, letting out a mildly disappointed sigh afterwards. “Whenever you, Perry, and Kingsley do your shows, the most I can ever do is listen to them. And even then, I can barely hear anything!”
They pushed themselves off the pier, defeatedly flopping back down into the water, their freckled face soured as they looked up at the sky.
Cole momentarily shielded their face and their instrument as the water droplets threatened to splash on them again.
Admittedly, they did feel a bit guilty about not being able to include Clémente in their shows. Them, Peregrine, and Kingsley did visit them several times per week to play and hang out, and they had rehearsed together multiple times. They’d seen how Clémente took a liking to playing the glockenspiel.
But, as guilty as they felt, they knew that they couldn’t really do much to help. Clémente quite literally couldn’t attend their shows. They probably wouldn’t even survive the journey to the town square without suffocating to death. The thought urged a hushed shudder from Cole’s throat.
They glanced down into the water below— at the luminescent, silvery tail that curved around the pier’s supports in the water, the surface fading back into human skin when their gaze travelled back to a still sulking Clémente.
“W-Well, I suppose we could arrange something-”
”Wait!” Clémente suddenly interrupted, their head perking up, previous disappointment miraculously forgotten.
The younger child dove back into the water, resulting in a startled Cole being splashed with more water than they planned on being soaked with. Their favorite vest had been soiled.
“Clémente??” They called out, looking into the clear blue depths for the familiar sight of an iridescent tail, one that they’d grown awfully accustomed to.
They stared into the water for a good 3 minutes, surprise eventually melting away into concern, the disappointment from their ruined vest forgotten.
They called out for their friend during those few minutes, occasionally using nicknames given by a certain hooved child that often visited Clémente alongside Cole.
”Dearworth!” They yelled in a last-ditch attempt, panting slightly from the usage of breath (which is something they thought they’d be used to now).
Just before they could gather the breath to call out their friend’s surname again, a sudden splash came from the water, this time directed upwards, which proved to be much more effective in soaking Cole than last time.
“Oh!-” Clémente gasped, holding something in their left hand as they stared up at their friend with an half-apologetic-half-pitiful expression. ”Sorry, sorry!” They giggled out, their focus divided between Cole and their own hands as they hoisted themselves up onto the pier.
After attempting to shake some of the water out from their hair (which went in vain), Cole shifted to sit next to Clémente, curiously peering over their scaled shoulder.
”What’s that you have…?” They subtly leaned against the side of Clémente’s head. In the child’s arms was an object, too vague to actually tell what it was, intricately wrapped in a bundle of still-damp seaweed.
All Cole received in reply was a small ‘hm’ from the other. Clémente’s webbed fingers worked carefully to unwrap whatever the item was, their lower lip slightly jutted out in focus.
They discarded the used seaweed back into the water below. Cole’s eyes momentarily followed the plant’s descent, long enough to not notice Clémente placing something atop their head.
”A lovely crown for the lovely princess!” Clémente exclaimed— a proud, endearing grin forming on their face as they admired their work.
Cole lightly touched the top of their head, carefully grabbing the supposed crown. Within their grasp was a delicate, wreath-like structure of various shells, all different colors and sizes with the largest one placed in the middle. The shells were woven together with a pale white cloth. How Clémente got the shells to actually stay together was beyond Cole, a question they’d make sure to inquire about later.
“I- oh, Harkers- Clémente, it’s beautiful. Did you make this for me…?” Cole muttered, holding up the crown higher, the sun’s rays bouncing off of the centre shell.
“Mhm!” Clémente’s face seemed to glow with those same rays at the praise. They lifted a finger to point towards the row of shells, “I got these ones from the reef near the lighthouse, I got these ones from the shore not far from here- oh! And this one I got from Kingsley! They had it in their little trinket collection.”
A glimmer of wonder sparked in Cole’s visible eye, as they tilted their head to the side to observe the crown better. ”You’d be better off mailing it to the local museum for all of Felicity to see…”
Clémente scoffed, taking the crown from Cole’s grasp and placing it back atop their head. “Why would I do that? I made it for you, not a display case!” They were about to continue rambling before they abruptly paused, the pout on their face lightening with something shyer. “…’less you don’t actually like it..?”
The mere words seemed to drive the flaxen-haired child into a panic, a stutter leaving their dropped mouth as their hands instinctively rushed to Clémente’s shoulders in an attempt to somewhat console them. “No, no, I- I love it, Clémmie! It’s just-” they reached up to take the crown off their head again, observing it with a doubtful eye. “I’m not exactly sure if I’m deserving of such a thing. Not to mention the trouble you probably went through to actually make it…”
When Cole finally turned their head back to meet Clémente’s gaze once again, they saw one of its eyebrows raised quizzically, their mouth stuck half-open like they were still processing Cole’s words. Or perhaps, instead, they were processing whether or not they actually heard Cole correctly.
After a few moments of dragged silence between the two, Clémente hurriedly shook their head, golden curls bouncing and nearly flying in Cole’s face within the motion. “Now, where on Eld did you hear that from, honeysuckle?”
Before Cole could make a reply in protest, two freckled hands came up and grabbed their cheeks. All they could do is watch helplessly as those two silver eyes bored into their own. Filled with far, far too much awe, love, and adoration.
“I think you’re wonderful,” they began, their thumb gently tracing Cole’s cheek, slow as to not accidentally scratch them with the claws they dared to call nails. “The way I see it— I’d give you every yarrow in the fields if you simply asked. Every star in the sky, too. Every boat in the sea. You deserve all of it and more. And I won’t let anyone, including yourself, Mx. Seymour, say otherwise.”
Yet again, they didn’t offer Cole a chance to protest, as they let go of their face and contentedly plopped down in their lap instead. “Additionally, you look rather pretty with it, honeysuckle.” They murmured.
The child in question— although still red in the face from the words that just seemed to reach their ears— was similarly content with ending the debate now, lest Dearworth somehow grows even bolder and decides to cast a spell to make the scarlet hue on their face permanent.
Cole glanced down at their friend, and then back up at the crown that still rested atop their head. They hummed.
“Perhaps I’ll make another one for you too, then,” Cole suddenly muttered, alerting Clémente as its head perked up.
“Another what?”
”Another crown, for you. Then we can both be pretty together.”
A beat of silence passed, perhaps triggered by Clémente realizing that their words had been used against them. They let out a little ‘oh’ sound, lifting themselves up from Cole’s lap.
”Witchcraft. Using my words against me.” Clémente spoke with a playful scoff, turning their head the other way and crossing their arms.
“That’s not what witchcraft is, Clémmie.”
”Yes it is.”
”It’s really not-”
”Is!”
. . .
Words left behind for the sake of peace, the two simply sat there, hands comfortably interwoven as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Coleson!”
They both startled at the sudden call from behind, both of their heads collectively turning towards the forest— at the sound of a stern moose that had half the mind to trot over to where they sat and drag Cole back home if need be.
Cole looked back towards Clémente, an apologetic gleam in their eyes as they huffed and stood up. “I believe that’s Perry. It should be time for dinner now.”
Clémente simply pouted in response, pushing themselves off the pier as they splashed back into the water below, a sliver of their face peeking out from the surface when they spoke. “Will I see you again tonight, honeysuckle?”
“I can try,” they said, partially distracted with trying to fit their newly acquired shell crown into the satchel at their side. “If so, I’ll bring my journal with me. We could write together.” A dimpled smile formed on Cole’s face when they saw the silent joy making its way into Clémente’s expression at the thought.
“I’d ought to head back now, before the others get worried.”
Another call sounded out from the forest, this time firmer and a tad louder than before. A stutter left Cole’s lips before they began to hurry off.
Clémente quietly watched the other leave, sighing defeatedly.
However, just as they were about to retreat back to the depths back to their makeshift home— a sudden yell, this time being Cole’s own voice; nervous yet still as loud as the spirit they often kept hidden away, sounded out:
“I love you! Take care-!”
.
.
.
Clémente looked back at the array of trees where the voice of their dearest came from, giggling happily before they sunk back into the water.