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Floyd kicked a rock aimlessly with his shoe and watched it skitter across the pavement, hitting a rubbish bin. A dull ping echoed through the empty streets. It appeared that Floyd’s regular hurricane of chaos had been reduced to a mere breeze of inconvenience.
Floyd Leech had recently moved to one of the few islands off the coast of the Queendom of Roses, close enough to the Coral Sea that, if a problem arose, he could quickly return home (despite the unlikely circumstance), yet far away enough that he was given some sense of freedom and independence. So far, in Floyd’s opinion, it sucked.
There were a few other residents on the island: a pale, dark-haired man (on the shorter side, and to Floyd that meant anyone shorter than him) with a scar over his left eye and eyes so deeply blue they almost made the mer ache for the cold and cool of his home in the Coral Sea, the dark-haired man’s (unwilling) companion was a white-haired man with a map of scars littered across his body and a constantly pissed-off expression. The pair of them reminded Floyd of a seahorse and a swordtail fish. Another couple joined the seahorse and swordtail, a lanky brunet wrapped in bandages like a mummy and his short, angry ginger partner with a fondness for tacky hats.
Floyd reckoned they resembled a dogfish and a catfish. When he told them that, the taller one seemed to find that hilarious and was so doubled over with laughter that he was the same height as the ginger. Speaking of, the ginger didn’t seem amused in the slightest; in fact, he had narrowed his eyes and promptly stormed off. Although he had found both couples amusing at first, the novelty of island life had worn off for the mer, and he had found himself bored again. At this rate, he was almost considering touring around the world, just as an escape from the boring life there.
The eel mer glared at the rock he had kicked, as if it personally wronged him and now owed him (or most likely Azul) money. The rock didn’t seem to be bothered, little shit. Floyd glared at the rock some more before he sighed and plopped himself down on a nearby bench. He had only been on the island for roughly a week, yet why was he tired of it already? Normally, it took him a month or two before he grew tired of something (or in special cases, like Azul, it took several years)
Suddenly, the pitter-patter of footsteps broke Floyd out of his brooding. Who was coming to annoy him now? Was it one of the other louder residents, like the Dogfish or the Swordtail fish? Was it that mysterious librarian lady whom Floyd just couldn't seem to figure out? Or was it that cheery starfish lady who always greeted him with a wave and a smile?
Floyd involuntarily braced himself, waiting for the inevitably long conversation he’d be dragged into if he met any of the other island residents (except for the Seahorse… he wasn’t much for conversation). Instead of a familiar-ish face, Floyd was presented with someone entirely new.
They were short, yet looked around Floyd’s age and dressed extremely formal for a late-night stroll and had the most remarkable hair Floyd had ever seen on another person. It seemed red as fire (or freshly spilt blood), yet, by the calm exterior of the young man, it wasn’t hot at all! Two distinct strands of hair curved inwards to form an almost heart-like shape on his head, and he had large, round eyes the colour of moonlight dancing upon the waves at midnight. Altogether, the combination of his bright red hair combined with the size and shape of the young man’s eyes gave off the distinct impression of a goldfish, which amused the eel greatly.
To put it simply, Floyd was lovestruck. Completely and utterly lovestruck. At first, he thought it could just be the heat of the redhead’s hair that made him feel all odd and funny and warm inside, but then he remembered that there was another redhead on the island; the librarian, except she didn’t make him feel like that at all! So, what was the deal with the little goldfish?
“Excuse me.” an unfamiliar voice broke Floyd out of his dilemma. No doubt that the voice belonged to the goldfish. It had a distinct Queendom accent, posh and dignified, a voice that screams ‘yes, I would like some tea to go with my crumpets, thank you very much! Pip, pip, cheerio!’. Floyd very much liked that accent.
The eel mer lazily looked up at the young man, hoping that his face didn’t look as red as it felt.
“Eeh? Whaddya want from me, Goldfishie?” He questioned, drawing out the last vowels on ‘goldfishie’. In response, the young man’s face went bright, cherry red (either from anger, embarrassment or both was unclear)
“Wha- Goldfishie?!” The redhead spluttered in confusion, “I’ll have you know that I have a name! Riddle Rosehearts!” He declared, drawing himself up to his full height of 5’3, as if such a name would strike fear into Floyd’s heart (spoiler alert: it didn’t).
Floyd grinned slowly, showing off two rows of shiny, white, pointed teeth.
“Riddle? Well, I like Goldfishie better. Since you’re so small and shiny!” and cute went unsaid, yet still remained floating around in Floyd’s head like driftwood on the ocean current after a storm. Riddle’s face magically appeared to deepen in colour (the eel didn’t even think such a bright red colour was even possible! Land dwellers truly were interesting)
The next thing he knew, he was about twenty feet in the air. And also, on fire. The distinct sound of Riddle faintly screeching the most polite profanities Floyd had ever heard somehow managed to reach him from his height in the air, which was impressive, considering the fact that again, Floyd was twenty feet in the air. Despite the wind aggressively whipping at his face and the cool night air pressing all around him like one of the tight squeezes the eel loved to give, he couldn’t help the blush and the grin that bloomed onto his face.
Huh. Maybe island life wasn’t going to be so bad after all!