Chapter Text
“So far, the big city’s not as magical as the movies wanted us to believe,” Dave said, his voice only halfway audible from the honking of car horns. “Aw, fuck-”
“What happened?” Dirk said, trying his best to keep his voice cool, detached. Like a typical older brother who wasn’t such a mother hen. Admittedly, it was easier to do within the confines of a phone call. He busied himself by fidgeting with the hem of his T-shirt, staring off into the quiet, gray sea ahead of him.
“No, nothing. A car just sped by and drenched me head to toe in garbage-infused rainwater, dude. I feel like a cartoon character – no way this actually happens in real life.”
“If you play it off the right way, you could convince your clients it’s intentional.”
“An artistic choice?”
“Yeah, a commentary on the struggle of the working-class artist.”
Dave snickered. “Holy fuck. I really am just LARPing as a starving artist like the guys in Rent, aren’t I?”
Dirk smirked, watching a seagull land on the beach, pecking at a crust of bread. “You’ll at least finish writing a song.”
“At least one, right?” His music-producer brother cackled into the phone.
Comfortable silence fell between them. Dirk could hear the car engines across the line as if they were beside him.
“But yeah,” Dave started. “It’s nice here. Different, but cool. Karkat’s taking me to some museum this weekend with some of his grad school friends – hope I don’t embarrass him. I know, like, no art from any century that’s not this one.”
Dirk shrugged, only slightly self conscious when he realized Dave wouldn’t be able to see it. “They’re probably chomping at the bit to explain, anyway.”
“Oh, totally. That’s, like, thing number one I had to get used to in population-two-million, everyone’s always trying to prove how smart they are. But, hey, I’ve managed to convince a few people this week I knew what I was talking about, so I think I’m fitting right in.”
“Give me an ‘I’m walkin’ here,’ otherwise I won’t believe you’re really adjusting.”
“Hah, save that for when I hit it big and get contractually obligated to move to the Big Apple!” Dirk could hear Dave’s smile through the call. After a beat, Dave began again, his tone flat in the way it got when he worried, “Is everything okay back at the shop?”
“I got the shipment of chalk pastels on time for Miss Leijon, so we’re in the clear for now.”
“Oh thank fuck, I wouldn’t trust her not to sic her twenty cats on you.”
“I could take them.” Dirk smiled. The seagull finished his snack and flew off into the night. “At least twelve of them.”
“Hey, if anyone could do it, it’s you.” Dave knocked his phone against something. “Oh, hey! That’s my apartment. I really was walking in the right direction!”
“Dirk, I gotta go.” Dave’s voice was hurried. Understandable, considering a shower and dry clothing was within eyeshot for him. “Love you!”
Dirk fought the lump that lodged itself in his throat. “Love you, too.”
A beep sounded as the call ended, and afterward, all Dirk heard were the waves. Maybe on the other side of the state people were still out at this time of night, but in a small seaside town, nearly everyone had turned in hours ago. Rising from the dent he’d made in the sand, Dirk did his best to brush himself off. He started back home.
He tried to ignore it as he moved up the sloping path, but as time passed since the call ended, the hurt inside him became unbearable. It was stupid, and he tried to pretend it wasn’t there, but ever since Dave told him he would be following Karkat to the city, he’d felt a clinging emptiness in his chest. He’d tried staying busy – doubling his project workload, re-cleaning the store top to bottom – but nothing made the feeling leave.
And it wasn’t that Dirk wasn’t happy for him. He was. More than anything, he could’ve never imagined seeing Dave this carefree, this excited to live his life. The thought that Dave was feeling uncomplicated joy for the first time was the reason Dirk could sleep at night.
But it hurt. About a week after Dave had left, Dirk was coding deep into the night – a recipe for healthy thoughts – and an idea came to him. He had the overwhelming urge to text Dave and tell him he needed him back at the shop, that they’d lose the place unless he came back as soon as possible. And knowing Dave, he would have dropped everything to come home.
And once that thought had fully formed, Dirk stopped his typing, slid back from his desk, and placed his head in his hands. A rush of heat flooded his face, and he couldn’t chase the deep-rooted disgust away. He was so ashamed, he didn’t let himself text Dave for days.
He dug his fingers into his temples, and decided he’d rather keep walking than go to bed. He took the long way home, moving up the sloping road until he reached a small cliff that overlooked the beach. He took off his shades. The water, the sand, the rocks, the bushes – everything was muddy and gray in the night. But the stars - well, they were lucky not to have much light pollution.
Dirk sat at the cliff’s edge, dangling his legs off the side. He looked up. The view was packed with specks of light that grew brighter the more he focused. Staring at the night sky always made him aware of how limited he was by his own eyes, that his window to his surroundings was always going to be restricted by his own pupils.
A piercing shriek came from Dirk’s right. He jumped, startling the night hawk away, but just as he brought a hand up to cover his ringing ear, he felt his center of gravity shift forward. Before he was able to scream, he slipped from the cliff, the breeze whirling around him as he fell through the air. The last thing he felt was the biting chill of the water.
His lungs ached. Every second that passed, the surface grew further away. His hands, too, felt like they were no longer attached to him. The small gurgles of air leaving him barely made a noise.
O broken hearted one, your soul has grown weary
Dirk registered the song, as well as the shadow descending upon him, but his mind had slipped too far to care.
Have you turned to the rippling tides to engulf your lonely tears?
Had he? Apparently, his mind hadn’t slipped far enough to not question the ominous voice singing in the sea. The figure moved in closer, and Dirk could finally see it was a man. His lips were moving - he must have been the one singing - but how was the sound reaching Dirk through the water?
May the waves embrace you, lull you softly to sleep. Ease away all the hurt and pain that you’ve carried throughout the years.
Dirk was quickly starting to feel embarrassed having to hear someone harp on his “hurt” and “pain.” The man could go easier on him considering the drowning. But quickly, he inched close enough to touch. He reached out, cradling Dirk’s cheek, and tilting his head to look him straight on. Traitorously, Dirk’s heart skipped a beat.
But if given the chance, would you forget the past? You and I can start all over.
Even in the dappled light, the man was stunning. If this was his mind’s last hurrah, imaging whatever it wanted before it finally died of oxygen deprivation, this wouldn't have been a bad choice.
We can love again, my dear.
The man’s eyes glowed green, reflecting light on the lower half of his body. His fins. His tail.
Before Dirk could gasp out the last of his breath, the merman kissed him.
His first thought when he washed ashore was gratitude. The scent of saltwater, the sheen of the moon, even the fact he had air flowing through his lungs – everything was instantly that much more worthy of appreciation. He could get used to this zest for life. He might even turn into an optimist. The world was his oyster. His dying oyster, considering he was no longer in the oyster’s natural habitat.
His second thought was the fuck was that. Not the drowning, the oddly sensual merman hallucination his brain dumped on him while drowning.
Something to unpack at a later time – see, never. Dirk stood, almost doubling over in the process, and looked above him. The cliff he fell from had a pretty steep drop. He wouldn’t have put money on surviving the fall, but he’d been through worse. His body ached, but he had no obvious injuries, so in his decidedly-not-expert opinion, he was fine.
He looked to his left, where the merman was lying unconscious – notably with human legs. Immediately, his mind supplied the rest. The man had probably seen Dirk fall and jumped into the ocean to save him. And Dirk’s mind, probably as a result of the drowning, just misremembered the very human-looking guy that rescued him. That didn’t explain why he was naked, though.
Not that Dirk had any clothes to offer him – he doubted the guy wanted his soaked, ratty T-shirt. And not that that should be his primary concern. Getting his head out of his ass, Dirk rushed to him, checking for a pulse - present - and for breathing. The medical knowledge obtained from his occupations combined was zero, but he had the sense that breathing shouldn’t be absent and then manifest abruptly for no reason.
The man jolted, his hand gripping his head. He looked up at Dirk with wide eyes.
“Hey,” Dirk said, moving a hand out to help him up.
The man was frozen, eyes stuck on Dirk. If he was the type of person to blush, the man’s attention would have got him. He stared at Dirk like he was the unbelievable one.
“Thank you,” he continued. “For saving my on-death’s-door, embarrassingly-inept ass.”
The man spoke, his voice gravelly, “Why…”
Dirk had to ignore the shiver that passed through him. It was only one word. God, he was easy.
“Oh, no.” He bolted up, unsteady on his feet like a colt, and sped to the water. Despite both of them just having been deep enough under it, he jumped back into the sea.
Dirk rubbed his eyes, but the image in front of him didn’t change. The man had changed back into a merman, complete with a shimmering green tail. Dirk, still not believing that he hadn’t just died and that this wasn’t some afterlife hazing ritual, ran toward the water to get a closer look.
Once Dirk had gotten deep enough for the water to lap at his shins, his body morphed. One moment, he had legs, and the next, he had find and a tail. His head throbbed.
“Oh, we’ve royally screwed this up, haven’t we?” the man said, hunching in on himself. Like that would help cover up the fact that they were both fucking mermaids.