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Foolish waits in the ocean, swimming in languid circles by the docked ship. He wouldn't usually risk coming so close to shore, but there’s a festival in the city today, so there’s hardly anyone aboard or even near the docks. Everybody’s concentrated in the heart of the city, eating and dancing and celebrating. The music is loud enough to hear even from underwater, and it’s late at night but there are so many lanterns and torches that even the surface of the water is illuminated. Colorful shapes, born from the dye of the lampshades. If Foolish reaches out, it’s like he can touch their shadows. There’s a band of bards playing a traditional song somewhere, and the night breeze carries their melody down the alleyways and into the sea.
He's taking a while, Foolish thinks, settling down in the ship’s shadow. Juan had promised they’d be able to meet today after the festival, but how long exactly was it meant to go on…? Foolish is well-acquainted with the town’s customs, and the festival is nothing new, but he’d never come this close to it before. There’s simply no reason to. It’s not as if he could participate.
But it doesn’t bother him too much. The sea holds countless wonders that’ll forever be unattainable to humans. While they spend eons pillaging and conquering and razing the ground beneath them, Foolish is happy to dwell in the ocean instead, deeper than their clumsy hands can reach.
A little voice in his head tells him it’s pretty hypocritical for him to be bashing humanity while he’s actively waiting for a human to hang out with him, but he chooses to ignore it. Juan isn’t like other humans; he’s too weird and weak and stupid to pose any actual threat. Honestly, he’s more like a mollusk. Foolish imagines Juan as a little sea snail getting crushed and eaten by a hogfish and smiles to himself. The thought entertains him for a good 15 minutes.
Emboldened by his boredom, Foolish swims up to the surface and pokes the top half of his face out of the water. Immediately, his nose is assaulted by the many scents of the pier and the thick, pervasive spices from the festival food. His senses are so heightened that he can smell it even from the water, and that’s how he catches it— a sweet, musky scent, honey and clove cologne tinged with sweat from a long day out in the thick summer heat. Juan must be heading down to the docks. Foolish smiles to himself and dips his head below the water, awaiting him like a patiently glowing anglerfish.
A couple of minutes pass before Foolish sees Juan’s outline on the ship above the water. He watches him across the deck, feeling the vibrations of the creaking wood travel through the water. The sea distorts his vision, but his many senses help him track Juan’s movement— Foolish hears the muffled steps getting closer, smells him, feels his presence in the way his scales flatten like a preening bird. Then, when he senses Juan’s gotten as close as he can to the water, leaning over the railing of the ship, Foolish draws back and suddenly pounces out of the water, unleashing all the energy in his body like a spring, uncoiled. He hears Juan let out a startled scream, and quickly catches the bag the human drops clumsily into the water.
“What the fuck?!” Juan says, scowling down at him. “I didn’t know you were already here!”
“You were taking too long,” Foolish stifles his snickering and tosses Juan’s bag from hand to hand. “I was starting to get bored.”
“If you’re bored, go terrorize a sailor or something. I almost shit myself.” Juan replies, and then quickly shakes his head when he sees Foolish start to open the latch on his bag. “Wait! Don’t open it yet, there’s a surprise in there.”
“Ooh, a surprise…” Foolish teases, shaking the bag, trying to listen for its contents. He hears a tinny sound, and the rustling of cloth. There’s a sweet smell coming from the bag, too, a scent unknown to him.
“I’m serious, don’t look yet!” Juan scolds, and then steps back away from the railing. “I’m going down there in a second, so just be patient.”
“Will you?” Foolish tilts his head. He thought they’d just be talking like this, the way they usually do in the summers when Juan is swamped with work on the ship and any further contact could put them both in danger.
“I thought we could go to your cave today.” He says, shifting his weight from side to side. When Foolish peers curiously at him, he averts his eyes, and there’s a slight blush on the bridge of his nose. It reminds Foolish of how he acted when they first met. Juan was so unaccustomed to seeing a merfolk so closely that he couldn’t hold his gaze for too long without nervously darting away. It was sort of endearing, in hindsight.
“Your captain won’t notice?” Foolish muses, and Juan shakes his head.
“Everyone’s so drunk today, I don’t think he’d notice if the whole ship disappeared.” Juan replies, and then closes his eyes, tilting his face up upwards slightly towards the night sky. The moonlight casts his face in a soft glow, and it reminds Foolish of a pearl. If he could walk on the deck of that ship with him, he’d run a finger across his cheek, dig his sharp claws into his tender flesh, hard but never to the point of breaking skin. Juan seems to have that effect on him. He brings out the desire to devour without consuming, a strange, tender sort of urge. He imagines humans probably feel that urge all the time. It's no wonder they wage wars over it. “Besides, I’ve been around the crew for too long. I’m sick of them.” Juan finishes, a murmur under his breath.
What a funny way to say he misses him. Foolish smiles at that. “Well, hurry up. I’ve waited long enough.”
Foolish watches as Juan goes through the motions of lowering one of the ship’s many side canoes into the sea. His movements are practiced, honed from years of working on-deck. Although his frame seems humble enough, its moments like these, watching the sheen of sweat glisten on the human’s biceps, that Foolish remembers Juan isn’t as frail as he seems. The canoe finally lands softly on the surface of the water, and Juan hops down onto it, leaving ripples on the sea in his wake. Foolish tosses Juan’s bag into the canoe and grabs the edges to steady it, and then he realizes they’re only about a foot apart from each other.
There’s a stupid smile on Juan’s face. It’s been a little over a week since they’ve been this close. “Hi.” Juan says, and Foolish gets a sudden, overwhelming urge to kiss him.
“Hey,” he replies, and holds himself back. Soon, he tells himself in his head, quiet and patient and reverent. It’s a word he’s grown rather accustomed to. He repeats it to himself every day as he watches Juan work on the ship from afar. When the crew goes out on voyages and Foolish trails behind, far enough to be out of sight but close enough to catch his scent in the air, that word rattles around in his mind like an incantation. Soon, soon. How strange is it that something as trivial and inane as a human can push an immortal into this sort of embarrassing desperation? He wonders if he’s an anomaly, a genetic failure of his species, doomed to be vulnerable to the whims of a human. But when he is around Juan, all his worries dull and his senses turn sweet, so the humiliation of it fades into the background and he can’t help but smile. If this is doom, so be it. There are worse fates to have.
Juan starts to row the canoe, and Foolish pushes it gently from behind so it moves quickly through the water. He knows these seas like the back of his hand. Foolish grew up here, his colorful tail blending into the abundant reefs, webbed hands trailing through the soft anemone as a child. He doesn’t remember how long he’s been alive— at a certain point it all starts to blend together— but he knows that he’s seen the people of this island city rise and fall and rise again more times than he can recall. He’s watched the brilliant marble spires of the capital get taller with the years, witnessed invasions and coups and witch hunts. Through it all, he was an idle spectator, watching from his perch in the sea. It was only after he met Juan that he started to see the city as less of a parasite and more of an extension of his domain. The land is something he will never touch, and can never understand, but he holds a part of it now— he pushes it across the surface of his home, watching the moonlight play on the back of his head, staring into the nape of his neck. He cannot help but hold some fondness for the city now, knowing that Juan grew up racing through its winding alleyways. If it was able to produce someone like this, there must be more to its people than barbaric squabbles and unearned pride.
The canoe slows as they start to approach Foolish’s cave. It’s a barely perceptible opening, hidden by trailing ivy and algae growing up over the stone, cut into the island’s mountainside on the northern coast, dockless and abandoned. Foolish grabs some of the overgrowth and pulls it to the side so Juan can row the canoe inside, and then follows after him. He pushes the boat through the tunnel preceding the cave, lit up by blue, bioluminescent fungi, and moves to the side of the boat so he can see Juan’s expression. He always looks so awestruck at this part, even though he’s been here countless times. That sort of emotion, the fluttering wonder of novelty, is something Foolish had forgotten about after living for so long. He has only recently started to discover it again, in the lines of Juan’s face and the warmth of his voice, a strong but melodic timbre, like the chiming of a bell.
They finally make it to the heart of the cave. The water evens out into a shallow pool, and the canoe slows to a stop at its edge. All around it is relatively flat stone, rendered smooth over the years. It’s a significant space, open enough to be comfortable, but the moss climbing up the walls and the soft light of the lanterns renders it cozy. Foolish added the lanterns after Juan’s first visit, when he loudly and obnoxiously complained about the darkness. The next time he visited, he brought five of them with him, and they lit them together, watching as the light transformed the space. A sort of alchemy unique to humans, the ability to make a home out of what was once dead air. Now, the cave feels like it belongs to the both of them, despite it being solely Foolish’s for so long. He’d be annoyed if it didn’t make him so inexplicably happy.
Juan steps out of the canoe and takes a seat by the edge of the pool. His legs are spread open, so Foolish swims up in between them and pushes himself slightly out of the water, hands propping his body up, mere inches away from the human. Juan is looking at him with a weird, fond look, gaze darting from Foolish’s eyes to his lips to his eyes again, and Foolish wiggles his eyebrows at him scandalously.
Juan rolls his eyes. “Stupid,” He mutters, but he’s smiling, and then he snakes his arms around Foolish’s waist and kisses him.
A merfolk’s kiss has been a feared concept for generations. Foolish remembers hiding beneath the docks and listening to old sailors tell stories of wicked sirens, lulling humans into their laps and bewitching them with sweet whispers. A merfolk’s kiss was poison, they’d say in hushed tones in the lamplight. A merfolk’s kiss was instant death, a sudden eternal slumber. Foolish has never really lived with other merfolk, so he’s not sure if there’s any truth to that tale. But he and Juan have kissed many, many times, and Juan is still alive and kicking, so clearly those sailors need to do a little more research.
The kiss is sweet at first, tender, warmth against warmth. A knot in Foolish’s chest seems to unravel at it, leaving him feeling untethered, light and boundless. He feels himself disappear into it, but something hungry stirs in his gut, so he cannot help but tilt his head to deepen the kiss. Kissing Juan feels natural in the way swimming or breathing does, vital and effortless as the steady pitter-patter of a heart. Juan makes a pleased sound, and Foolish smiles, so giddy with it that he can’t help but bite down on Juan’s lip. Juan yelps and leans back, pressing a finger to his mouth and glaring at Foolish once he realizes he’s bleeding a little bit.
“What the hell, man?” He says, licking at the blood on his lip. Foolish tracks the motion of his tongue the same way he’d track a school of unsuspecting prey.
“Sorry,” He says, with absolutely zero remorse, and for all his frowning, Juan kisses him again anyways.
After a little while, Juan pushes him lightly away and grabs his bag. “Don’t you wanna see what I got you?” He asks. Foolish noses at his neck, ignoring him, and Juan’s voice turns soft. “Hey, c’mon, I swear it’s good. We can, uh…keep doing that after.”
Foolish lets out a long, suffering sigh. “Fine. Show me the stuff.” He withdraws back into the water to give Juan space to maneuver, instantly missing the closeness. Juan misses it too, from the way he sort of deflates. Foolish rolls his eyes and gestures towards the bag, and Juan perks up, like he just remembered why he interrupted them in the first place.
He’s easily distracted today, Foolish ponders, watching as Juan opens the latch of his bag. He tucks that thought away for later and floats patiently by the pool. Juan is about to pull something out of the bag, but he pauses for a moment, peering thoughtfully at him. “How much do you know about the festival?”
Foolish thinks about it for a moment, compiling years of quiet spectating from the sea, trying to recall bits of information from the things he’s seen. “People from outside of the city come to visit for it. There are lots of new foods they don’t have during other times of the year, and no ships ever leave the harbor until the morning after.” He pauses for a moment, remembering the fluttering lampshades from earlier. “And people release lanterns?”
He realizes he hasn’t actually said anything about the festival itself, but Juan nods along regardless. “That’s all true. It’s supposed to be a celebration ushering in the new year. People are encouraged to leave parts of themselves behind in order to make space for new growth.” Finally, Juan pulls out a folded up lantern from the bag. It’s a rich, emerald green color, and it unfolds into a spherical shape, like a tumbled stone. “You’re supposed to light the lantern and imagine leaving something about yourself behind in it. Like a bad habit or a trait you don’t like, something like that. And then you release it!”
Foolish nods along to Juan’s explanation, waiting for him to continue, before he realizes the look on his face is expectant. Foolish glances at the lantern and then back at Juan. “Oh. This one’s for me?”
“Yep!” Juan says, and then corrects himself. “Only if you want to. I just thought maybe you’d feel left out watching everyone else release lanterns. But you don’t have to if you think it’s a silly human ritual.” There’s no hint of persuasion in Juan’s voice at all when he smiles at Foolish, like he’d be perfectly content either way, despite the fact he probably had to spend hard-earned coin on the lantern. Juan has always been like that, never taking offense if Foolish refuses to participate in a human activity. Foolish notices that sometimes, Juan describes the human world the way he would, as a spectator. Perhaps there’s a part of him that feels like he doesn’t belong there, either.
There are so many questions in his head, idle little curiosities about Juan and his life, his thoughts, his dreams and desires. Humans are dreadfully mundane, so there’s no reason he should be this interested, but for reasons unknown to him Foolish wants to know everything about Juan. He wants to know about his stupid human festivals and why he’s so impenetrably hopeful. He wants to know him like he knows the sea, like it’s a part of him, like the knowledge has always existed in his mind and is only now being awakened from a deep slumber. But he would never say it out loud— it’s far too embarrassing. And it’s not smart to let a human know your weaknesses. So instead of asking about any of that, Foolish settles for, “Where’s your lantern?”
“I already released mine at the festival, with the rest of the crew.” He says, a faint smile on his face. Foolish knows enough about Juan’s shipmates to know they aren’t exactly normal pirates. While other crews would spend their weekends home frequenting brothels and causing mayhem in the streets, Juan’s shipmates often preferred to obnoxiously sing sea shanties aboard their ship late into the night. It’s how Foolish first encountered Juan, actually— he had been going for a night swim near the docks, thinking all the pirates would surely be in the city by now, and suddenly heard him singing, loud and cacophonous. He was so horrifically off-key that it actually made Foolish laugh out loud for the first time in a while, and despite his better judgement he stayed nearby to hear the rest of the song. His singing never got any better, but Foolish’s mood did, and from that point on he would linger on the periphery of their ship every night, listening to their silly songs until his eyes started to droop and their music chased the worries of the day away.
“What did you leave behind?” He asks, swimming a little closer to where Juan is sitting on the edge of the pool. “Because if you have any more of those lanterns, I have some suggestions for things you should fix next year. Like the fact you take forever to do literally anything, for example.”
“Oh my God, I didn’t even take that long at the festival today!” Juan complains, pushing uselessly at Foolish’s chest. “And I don’t need any suggestions, thanks.” Foolish can tell he’s building up to something, so he waits quietly in the water, observing the expressions that bloom on Juan’s face. Hesitation, then embarrassment, then resignation. He doesn’t look at Foolish when he finally answers. “I put my cowardice in the lantern. So I can be, yknow… Braver, and stuff.”
Foolish thinks about this for a moment, watching Juan fidget with the clasp on his bag. “You’re the only pirate I know who’s canoodling with a merfolk. That’s pretty brave, isn’t it?” He suggests.
Juan raises an eyebrow. “Canoodling? Is that what we're calling it?”
“Unless you have another term you’d prefer to use…?” Foolish trails off, enjoying the way Juan squirms at the pressure. Humans and their labels are so silly— Foolish still remembers the way Juan avoided his gaze for three whole days after he called him his mate. What else was he supposed to call him? They kiss, they fuck, they spend holidays together in Foolish’s cave… But judging from the way Juan reacts to affection sometimes, he can tell he hasn’t had the best experiences when it comes to relationships, so he doesn’t press the issue. He’s pretty good at waiting, after all. Instead, he redirects the conversation back to his original point. “Seriously, though. You have many many many MANY flaws,” He draws it out, ignoring Juan’s eye roll, “… But I don’t think cowardice is one of them.”
“Really?” Juan says, and he’s pretending to be annoyed but there’s a little smile on his face. “I guess I just suck at coming up with stuff, then.”
“Yeah. Next year, release your lantern with me so I can give you pointers.” Foolish says, and Juan grins at him.
“Are you fucking hitting on me?” He sounds incredulous. Foolish just shrugs at him, and Juan lets out a laugh. The sound of it is like music to him. “Alright, fine then, Mr. Suave. Next year we’ll release our lanterns together. Happy?”
“Yep.” Foolish says, satisfied. He swims up to Juan and grabs the lantern from him, turning it around in his hands. It really is a pretty shade of green. “Okay, how do I do this?”
“Basically just think about the thing you want to leave behind as you light the lantern.” Juan instructs, handing him a match. “You can say it out loud, if you want.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Uh, because I just told you what mine was?”
Foolish considers it. “But how am I supposed to maintain my air of mystery?”
Juan lets out a disbelieving laugh. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re not mysterious at all. Like, in the slightest.”
“Fine, fine,” Foolish relents, and then thinks about what to say. A part of him he wants to leave behind… There’s not much about himself that he doesn’t like, if he’s being honest. He’s come to terms with his shortcomings over his vast lifespan. But he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t something that came to mind. A little feeling, persistent, nipping at his heels like a hungry eel. It’s a feeling he’s worn for a long time, but recently he’s become more aware of it, hanging over his shoulders, seeping into every interaction. A feeling like venom, thick and slow and deadly. “I guess… My fear, probably.”
He says it quickly and lights the match, but Juan is still looking at him, something soft in his eyes. His voice is quiet when he asks, “What kind of fear?”
“Well…” Foolish falters. He isn’t used to saying this kind of stuff out loud. He hates even thinking about it, like the more he dwells on it the stronger the fear becomes, feeding on his attention. But, like in many instances, Juan makes him want to try. “I don’t know. I’m afraid of losing things.”
Juan nods to show he’s listening, so Foolish continues. “I guess because I’m immortal and stuff, I’m always seeing things come and go. And even though I’m used to it by now, it doesn’t actually make it any easier.” He swallows. “But I think if I keep being afraid of losing things, I won’t be able to enjoy them and then they’ll be gone. So I want to get rid of that fear. So I can enjoy… the things.” He trails off awkwardly, feeling too exposed to specify.
There’s a smile on Juan’s face, and he looks proud, for some reason. It fills Foolish’s chest with a steadily blooming warmth. “Things.” He echoes. His eyes are knowing, his voice gentle. It makes Foolish want to explode everything and them himself. In a good way.
He clears his throat and glances to the side. “Yeah. Things.”
Juan nods. “A very respectable thing to want to leave behind. I agree with you.” He says, and tilts his head a bit, like he’s considering how to phrase his words. “I think maybe you’re already getting better at managing the fear. Because you’re here, aren’t you? Enjoying the… things.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” He says, and then they look at each other for a little bit, eyes heavy with a thousand unspoken somethings. Foolish is hit with the thought that Juan is a very pretty human. He has a pretty face and pretty hair and very pretty words— for all his awkward clumsiness, he always seems to say the right things, doesn’t he? Merfolk have the reputation for bewitching people, but it’s Juan’s words that always leave him feeling lighter.
Maybe he’s looking at Juan a certain way, because the other man clears his throat and averts his gaze. “Uh, anyways… Before we go outside to release your lantern, there’s something else.”
“Oh?” Foolish swims closer to him, suddenly curious. Juan reaches into his bag again and pulls out something wrapped in cloth. As he carefully unfolds the corners, a pastry comes into view, and Foolish realizes this is the sweet-smelling thing from earlier. The pastry is smaller than Juan’s palm, and seems to be a kind of tart, hard outer crust filled with a deep red jam. There’s a flower in the middle, almost as big as the tart itself. It’s got dozens of little petals layered over each other, bright pink at the center and paler at the edges. There’s a fine layer of powdered sugar dusted over it all, and it almost looks frosted over.
Foolish’s mouth starts watering. “Ooh. What’s that?”
“It’s called, uh…” Juan clears his throat, and then quickly shakes his head. “Well, the name isn’t really important. Basically, it’s a very popular pastry during this time of year.” There’s a pause. Juan is very pointedly looking at the pastry and not at Foolish. “Traditionally, you’re supposed to share it with someone special.”
Foolish presses his lips together and lets out a thoughtful hum. “I see. Did you already eat one of these with your shipmates too?”
Juan lets out an exasperated noise. “Obviously fucking not.”
“Sooo… You saved it to eat with me?” Foolish lets the grin he’s been holding back bloom across his face, slow and satisfied. Juan groans, dragging his hands down his face, and Foolish can’t help but let out a little laugh.
“Yeah, I did. Because we’re canoodling, as you so eloquently put it.” He says, all in a rush, like saying it faster will do anything to stop Foolish’s snickering. When he reaches out to grab the pastry, Juan suddenly pulls it back. “Actually, we’re uh. We’re supposed to feed it to each other. Traditionally.”
Foolish stares at Juan, who’s holding the pastry protectively. The look in his eyes is dead serious. Foolish really tries to hold it in, but then he sees a droplet of sweat drip down Juan’s temple, like this is the hardest thing he’s had to do all day, and Foolish bursts into laughter.
Once he’s caught his breath, he looks at Juan again. He’s staring straight up at the ceiling, cheeks bright red and a blank expression on his face. “Whatever, whatever! I’m never doing anything like this again.” He says, and that makes Foolish start laughing again.
“Noo, no!” Foolish pulls at Juan’s arm, but he’s still stubbornly avoiding his gaze. “It’s fine, I wanna do it! Feed it to me, Juan. I want to partake in your intricate human rituals.”
“You’re so fucking annoying.” He replies, but then he glances at Foolish and starts laughing a little, too. Foolish watches as he carefully splits the pastry in half. “Here, open up.”
Foolish swims closer to him so he’s in between Juan’s legs, the way they were positioned earlier. He opens his mouth and watches as Juan sets the pastry down gently on his tongue. It dissolves in his mouth, sugary and light, like a dream. He does the same for Juan, his eyes lingering on the other man’s tongue as it licks at his fingers to get the excess crumbs.
“Good, right?” Juan murmurs around the pastry. There’s some powdered sugar on his lip, so Foolish leans in and licks it off, smiling at the sound of Juan’s laughter.
“Yeah. Good.” He replies, and when he leans in again to kiss him, it’s sweet.
They pull the canoe back out into the sea a little after that. Foolish had noticed the stars before, but they seem brighter now, somehow. They remind him of the sugar on the pastry, and that makes him smile a little to himself. He hopes that even decades from now, when he looks up to the night sky, he thinks of that stupid little pastry. They release the lantern together, fingers brushing up against each other, and Foolish watches it disappear into the night sky.
There’s no science behind these little rituals— it’s all superstition and tradition, folktales the humans tell themselves so they feel as though they have some control over the world. Foolish has never pretended to believe in their customs, and he never will. But perhaps… Perhaps there’s something to this tradition in particular. Because when Foolish releases the lantern, he turns to look at Juan, and his face is cast in the green of the lampshade and the soft white of the moonlight and in that moment, Foolish loves him so much that it’s as though his fear never existed. He doesn’t think of what it’ll be like a decade from now, when Juan starts to age and the two of them start to fall out of step. The anticipation of that future pain doesn’t even cross his mind. All he can think about is the warmth of him, how real he is, the fact he can touch and smell and feel him. This human, small and insignificant in the grand scheme of things and yet so vitally important, like everything in the world depends on him and his laugh and his smile. Not something to possess or break or keep. Just something to hold, precious in his hands, fragile but strong like sea glass. Foolish doesn’t have the courage to say it out loud yet— it feels too big, too important— but as he watches Juan watch the sky, he thinks it to himself, over and over and over again. I love you, I love you, I love you.