Chapter Text
⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖
When Riddle visits the sea for the first time, he feels… scared.
Riddle doesn’t know how to swim. He’d never had a reason to learn but his mother had been called to a small beach-side city to care for an ill patient and so they ended up with sand between their toes and the sun bleaching their hair.
It wasn’t often his mother had to be called away from home for long periods of time. But when she was, she always brought Riddle along. She stressed how this was not a vacation and that Riddle was expected to continue his studies, and only then would she permit him to run about, just for this period of time away from home.
They’ve never gone on a vacation before. His mother said lots of families went on vacation, she saw it as a waste of time, though she admitted to seeing the merit in rewarding children when they deserved it.
Did Riddle not deserve it? Had he not been working hard enough to deserve it? What can he do to make himself deserving?
So many questions and confusing words running through his mind, all he can do is sit at the shoreline while he waits for the sun to set so he can return to the home they’ll be staying in while his mother cares for the terminal patient.
Riddle’s mother is such a hard worker, he admires her. He hopes to be just like her one day. Maybe she’ll be proud of him and think him deserving then.
The water is chilly on his skin. The first touch had raised goosebumps all up his arms and legs, but it was easy to get used to.
He digs his fingers into the sand, flicking a pebble into the water. The texture is rough and coarse. It’s fun to push around and watch it follow any structure that his hands guide it to, especially when it’s wet and sticks together.
The sun is warm on his skin, soothing the chill of the water. Even the breeze feels perfect. The sound of the crashing waves and ever-moving currents serves to keep his attention on the horizon line where the sun meets the water. Everything feels serene and just so calming. Riddle thinks he likes the beach.
It would have been a lot better if Trey and Che’nya were here too. They probably would have had a lot of fun things for them to do.
The thought unwinds the small smile that’d been starting to form on his lips, replaced by a bitter feeling in his chest that he quickly swats away.
His mother knows best, having friends like that is a distraction and damaging to his future. They could lead him astray, just like they did with the tart, the hedgehog, tag, and all those other games…
…all those other games that he found so much fun.
He kicks his legs, allowing the droplets of water that hit his face to wash the traitorous thoughts from his head. His mother is always right. She was just keeping distractions from his life. How can he expect to be successful if he’s always thinking about silly things like friends and games?
Riddle heaves a sigh, letting his shoulders drop as he leans to the side. He falls against the large boulder half-buried in the sand that he’d stationed himself by, letting it hold most of his weight.
He looks back out to the horizon. He best enjoy this for the day, he might not be able to finish all his coursework for the day tomorrow, or for the rest of their stay at all. Who knows when he’ll be able to-
Bright blue eyes blink at Riddle from the water surface.
Riddle blinks back.
The eyes blink again. Once, twice.
Riddle leaps back with a shout, the figure in the water doing the same before diving under the waves. The loud splash only serves to startle Riddle further and he dives behind the boulder.
He presses his back against the rough, uneven surface, little heart pounding in his chest.
He saw a person! A person was all the way out in the water! A person with bright red hair just like his and blue eyes…
A person with an odd, greenish tint on their otherwise tan skin.
Riddle gulps, digging his fingers into the rock. What kind of person just appears from the water like that and leaves the same way? Is it someone he can trust? They didn’t look much older than him… Does he dare to look?
The redhead breathes in deeply.
Slowly, hands still tightly holding onto whatever sharp enough edges of the boulder he can grasp onto, Riddle rises to his feet to tentatively peek at the water.
His gaze meets the same glimmering pools of blue.
Both the redheads freeze, and it’s this moment that Riddle studies the boy in front of him.
His hands are tinted a seafoam green, with claws on small hands that make Riddle gulp. He has scales of the same color around his face and leading down his torso.
Is this…
Riddle steps forward once, and the boy disappears under the waves once again with a squeak.
“Wait!”
Riddle panics. He quickly climbs onto the boulder, scrambling to the edge where it overlooks a deeper part of the water. He leans down, trying to see the boy through the water.
“I’m sorry!” He calls out to the ocean, voice trembling, “I… I didn’t mean to startle you!”
Riddle rapidly scans the waterline, hoping to find a trace of the odd boy. Guilt weighs in his throat. He really hadn’t meant to scare him… He just wasn’t expecting to see someone!
There’s silence and Riddle feels his hope dwindle. He sighs and slumps down on the rock, looking back down into the water.
He blinks when he finds a face staring back up at him through the clear surface.
Riddle feels his heart jump up into his throat when the boy fully emerges from the water, blinking up at him. Riddle tilts his head and the boy follows.
Tentatively, he raises a hand and waves, “Hello…”
The boy stares up at him for another moment before lifting his own hand from the water and staring at it before looking back up at Riddle and giving him a wave of his own.
“Hi,” He greets back in a voice that sounds as beautiful as the moving waves.
From this angle, Riddle can perfectly see the long tail that swishes in the water, keeping the boy above water. His eyes widen in awe.
Riddle quickly directs his gaze to the boy’s face when he notices Riddle looking at his tail. He feels his face heat when blue eyes glance back down into the water.
“Do you want to touch it?” He asks carefully.
Riddle hesitates. Would that be rude? It’d be like walking up to someone and asking to touch their legs and feet. But… He offered, right…? So, it can’t be that bad.
Riddle nods slowly. Thankfully, the boy doesn’t seem to find it odd and swims up to the rock. He grips onto the ledge and twists his body. Riddle shields his face when some water droplets go flying as the tail is flung out of the water, landing on the rock with a wet plap. The young merman is smiling pleasantly, seemingly unbothered by how he has to fold himself in half in order to keep his head above water at the same time as his tail.
Riddle reaches out a scared hand, glancing up one more time to make sure the boy hasn’t changed his mind, before tenderly brushing his fingers against the scales.
His brows raise at the smooth feeling. He’s never gotten to touch anything from under the sea before! Slightly emboldened by the experience, his palms press against the tail he moves his hands up and down, enamored with the texture.
“It’s so pretty…” He murmurs when he tilts his head just enough for the light to reflect off the scales, making it sparkle. Such a delicate shade of teal with breathtakingly beautiful iridescent shades of purple, it looks like it glows in the sunlight. And the tailfins at the very end of the limb twitch and flutter in the most beautiful way that reminds Riddle of a dress flowing in a graceful waltz.
“Thank you,” The boy giggles. Riddle feels his face go hot and quickly pulls his hands back, muttering apologies.
“Don’t worry about it,” He beams, letting his tail slip off the rock and seamlessly back into the water, “I’m glad you think it’s pretty!”
Riddle smiles bashfully, fiddling with his fingers. He’d been worried that he made his company uncomfortable.
“I’m Rielle,” The boy, Rielle, introduces himself with a friendly twinkle in his eye that only draws Riddle in. “What’s your name?”
“Riddle,” He answers, reaching out and taking the offered hand that is reached out of the water to give it a gentle shake, “Riddle Rosehearts.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Riddle!” Rielle grins, all teeth as the delicate fins on the side of his head seem to wiggle, “Wanna come play with me?”
“P-play?” He parrots dumbly, bringing his hand up to chew on his nail, “In the water?”
Rielle only gives him a happy nod and Riddle feels himself deflate.
“I, uhm… I don’t know how to swim,"he admits, grayish-blue eyes looking down at the surface of the rock in shame.
“Whaaattt?” Rielle, almost shouting, grabs onto the rock’s ledge and hoists his upper body out of the water. Riddle stumbles back at the sudden closeness, face flushing red at the proximity, “You can’t swim?!”
Embarrassed, Riddle shakes his head. Rielle sinks back into the water, hands still holding the rock. He perks up and Riddle can practically see the way his eyes light up with an idea.
“I’ll teach you how to swim then!”
Riddle blinks for a hot second.
“Pardon?”
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
“Riddle! Over here!”
The redhead perks up, looking out at the water where he can see the familiar figure of Rielle waving an arm to get his attention. Against his will, a smile curls onto his lips. He’s immediately rushing down the sandy dunes of the beach to get to the shoreline, uncaring for the way the warm sand gets into his sandals and flicks against his shins from his speed.
“Hi, Rielle,” Riddle greets when he’s finally at the shore, setting down his bag away from the water to wade through the short waves lapping at his ankles. He’s only slightly out of breath when he reaches the water.
Rielle’s tail swishes happily in the shallow water that they’re situated in.
“Finish all your studies?” He asks.
“Of course,” Riddle nods, “I wouldn’t be able to come see you if I didn’t.”
Riddle feels as though he’s repeating history. When he met Trey and Che’nya, he skipped his study time when he shouldn’t have. It got him into trouble and cost him his first friends and the only taste of freedom he’d ever known.
And now, he’s rushing his studies to meet with Rielle every day whenever he can. This could end horribly for Riddle if he’s not careful.
And yet, all he wants to do is keep swimming and playing with Rielle.
“What did you bring?” Rielle, ever the curious soul, asks as he leans to peer around Riddle at the bag.
Suddenly, shyness tugs at Riddle’s bravado and excitement. He fiddles with the bottom hem of his shirt, ears going hot.
“Uhm,” He fumbles, “Well, I thought… since you’re teaching me how to swim, I could… show you how to do something I like too…”
His words are weak and quiet under the sound of the moving water, and for a moment he finds relief in the fact that Rielle might not hear him.
“Really?!” The mer gasps, stars in his eyes, “What is it?!”
Rielle leans so far forward that he looks like he’s trying to climb out of the sand onto the shore. Riddle fumbles, the hotness spreading to his face.
“It’s- uhm, croquet,” He answers simply, “It’s a sport, sort of.”
“Cro…quet?” Rielle attempts to echo the foreign word, “What is that?”
“It’s really simple!” Riddle eagerly heads back to his bag to start unloading all its contents onto the sand. A variety of hoops, pegs, and balls clatter to the sand. He has to fight to get the two mallets out of the bag. Typically, a proper game has at least four, but Riddle figured that just the two would be okay since it’ll only be him and Rielle. The aforementioned mer is watching, enraptured, as Riddle forces the hoops into the sand.
He sets up a ball and grabs a mallet with a blue band, getting in position over the ball, “Basically, all you need to do is get the ball through all the wickets - Those are the hoops - and then to the peg at the center. You have to do it in the right order, though!”
As an example, Riddle knocks his mallet against the ball and sends it rolling through one of the wickets. It doesn’t move as far as he expects it to, though he realizes the sand likely hindered it. He’ll have to get used to playing in sand instead of grass.
“Waaahh!” Rielle awes, chin propped up in his hands, “That looks so cool. I wanna play too!”
And suddenly, Riddle realizes something that completely slipped his mind when he’d thought of showing croquet to his friend.
Rielle does not have legs.
He stares at the swishing tail in the water, pondering how Rielle could stand to hit the ball.
“Hmm…” He hums lightly, setting the mallet down, “How are we going to get you to stand in the sand? We can’t play in the water…”
Rielle blinks, the concept clearly having slipped by him as well. He glances back at his own tail, the fins flipping over the water surface.
“Oh… yeah…” Disappointment settles across the boy’s face as he realizes he’ll be unable to play. Riddle panics, guilt tugging at his heart at the loss of glimmer in Rielle’s eyes.
“W-wait, I have an idea!” He exclaims, heading over to wade back into the water. Rielle watches him curiously.
“Just- uhm… Tell me if you don’t like this, okay?” He flusters. Rielle tilts his head but nods.
Riddle takes a moment to brace himself, breathing in before squatting down in the water. He scoops his hands under Rielle’s tail and torso, rolling the mer’s body further up into his arms. With another deep breath, Riddle forces his legs to straighten, standing and taking Rielle with him.
The redhead mer squeaks and wraps his arms around Riddle, the wetness still clinging to his skin seeping into Riddle’s shirt.
Rielle isn’t particularly heavy, but he certainly isn’t light either. Riddle struggles for a moment to step through the heavy water, lighting up his palms with faint wind magic that won’t require a magestone to help carry some of Rielle’s weight. With the crutch making the task significantly easier, Riddle waddles over the uneven ground of sand to the small setup of wickets.
Leaning down, with a bound of struggle that Riddle internally convinces himself is minimal, he grabs onto one mallet, the same blue-banded one, and hands it to Rielle.
“Hold it in two hands– Yeah, like that,” Riddle guides, sliding Rielle down in his hold. He supports the young merman’s weight by wrapping his hands around his torso, his back pressed to Riddle’s chest and shimmery scale dragging against the sand. He pushes his magic to hold Rielle higher in his arms, sweating lightly at the difficulty and awkwardness of the position.
“Okay, now you just lightly bump it, aim for that wicket over there,” Riddle guides. Rielle clumsily swings the mallet, missing the ball entirely. He grunts, a small frustrated noise through his nose, before adjusting his grip and trying again.
The mallet knocks against the ball and it tumbles forward against the sand, only moving a few inches forward. The sand hinders the smooth movement, making it curve away from the wicket and roll to a stop sooner than Riddle would’ve expected it to. Rielle makes another irritated noise, but Riddle grins.
“Like that!” He encourages, smile growing when Rielle glances back at him, “The sand makes it a little difficult, so you’ll have to hit it pretty hard and be careful with aiming, but that was good!”
He remembers his lousy first kick when Trey and Che’nya first brought a soccer ball to play with. It’d gone tumbling far away from the designated goal and Riddle had been horribly embarrassed by the failure, only made worse by Che’nya giggling as he went to retrieve the ball. He wanted to tuck into his sweater and curl up like a hedgehog to hide.
He’d only been soothed by Trey assuring him that his own first attempt to play soccer had gone similarly, that Riddle was already off to a great start and just needed to practice. Despite still being embarrassed, the admittal of failure and assurance had certainly helped him. Before, he wanted to stop completely in fear of embarrassing himself again, but Trey’s assurance had helped him ease into trying again. Che’nya and Trey helped him practice back and forth until Riddle got the hang of aiming his kicks and judging the power of them.
They always had a way of making Riddle feel comfortable and safe doing anything.
He doesn’t want Rielle to feel the way he did, like he shouldn’t try again just because he failed.
“Try again, hit it harder this time,” Riddle encourages, waddling the few steps over to the ball again.
Rielle hesitates for a moment before firming his grip again and winding up, nearly bumping Riddle’s shin, before hitting the ball with enough force to make a clack noise. The ball rolls much further this time, clearing a small path in the sand. It still doesn’t make it through the wicket, but it does bump against it!
Riddle beams, bouncing on his heels, unintentionally jostling the mer, “Just like that! And you made it to the wicket!”
“Let me hit it again!” Rielle urges, bravado resurging as he waves the mallet at the ball like he can reach it from the newly gained distance, “I’ll get it through! Let me hit it!”
With a familiar giddiness bubbling in his chest, Riddle bounds over to the ball. Rielle bites onto his lip when he takes another swing, with less force than the previous swing but more force than the first. They both watch the ball slide through the sand, and under the wicket, coming to a stop after just passing through.
The ensuing cheer echoes over the sand and waves, two heads full of red hair bumping together in glee with matching grins.