MAN & MONSTER

seaside

Every day, the siren emerged from the deep sea and beckoned him.

"Come in," he would say behind his dark tangle of hair, thick and glossy like kelp. "Come to me."

Fischer knew better than that, of course. He would stay high on the beach away from beckoning hands and stare blandly at the siren until his beautiful face (beneath his hair) would scrunch with displeasure.

He would try a little longer, trying to urge Fischer into the water where he would be soundly eaten. But eventually, inevitably, for Fischer was immune for some odd reason, he would give up with a huff as though offended he'd had to exert the effort. It didn't stop him from trying, though, again and again and again.

It was such a regular thing that Fischer came to expect it whenever he wandered down to the beach in the night, to escape the cacophony of his home and the roaring inside his head.

One night, however...

Nasty words had turned into nastier accusations and Fischer had cowered back from his family as they screamed and hurled hateful diatribes at each other. And at the uninvolved Fischer, who could do nothing against his parents besides weather their words like it didn't hurt him.

He walked all the way down to the pier, sitting and curling up at the very end, closer to the water than he'd usually dare, knowing of the existence of the siren. Moonlight reflected off the still, calm sea, undisturbed by wind.

It was in this position, sobbing silently into his knees, that the siren emerged from the water.

"You've come qui—hm?"

You've come quite close to the water, most likely, but the siren's voice had cut off into a nervy, uncertain squeak.

There was a long, peculiar silence while Fischer wished to be anywhere else, scrubbing his sleeves against his wet face and trying (and failing) to stop himself from crying.

The siren had sunk further into the water until just his eyes peeped up at Fischer. His eyebrows were drawn in a sharp, concerned look.

"Um," the siren said eventually, hesitantly, all smooth tones and enticements gone, "are you okay?"

"No."

"Ah."

A delicate, awkward air flowed between them and Fischer cursed himself for being this way. He sniffed and rubbed his face some more, staring angrily at the denim of his jeans. Why did he have to keep coming here, every single night? Couldn't he have one night to be miserable by himself, to wallow and be unhappy without thinking he'd be eaten?

Water sloshed and, in his periphery, he saw a hand with webbed fingers gripping onto one of the posts of the pier.

The siren hoisted himself out of the water, streaming water, and plopped his body next to Fischer without another word. He interlaced his fingers in what could call his lap—though, instead of legs he had a long, long fish tail that dangled off the edge he'd pulled himself up and over.

He stared forward rather than at Fischer's incredulous, shocked face, fingers tapping together nervously.

Absurd.

He realised this was an attempt at comfort and solidarity by a creature that had (up until now) wanted to eat him.

It made his eyes sting, burn, that the only care in his life came from here of all places.

"Oh no," the siren mumbled as his tears began anew. "Umm. It's okay. It'll be okay." He placed his wet hand on Fischer's back, rubbing, as though mimicking an act he'd only seen at a distance.

It wouldn't be okay, it didn't feel like it would ever be okay, though Fischer didn't say it.

"If it's all that bad, I'll eat whoever makes you sad instead," said the siren with a strange heartiness.

Fischer, so taken aback, stopped crying and stared at his face in astonishment. "You'd eat my parents?"

The siren had the good grace to look embarrassed at his hasty declaration, his fingertips twitching. "Well, I mean... if you wanted me to. Quickest solution, right?"

"...I guess."

It would be a swift conclusion to his misery, but it was too outlandish an offer to really consider.

"I'll be fine," Fischer said at last, after he'd composed himself and rubbed most of the tears off his face. "Thank you."

The siren peered at him searchingly, his pale eyes faintly luminous in the night. They were probably like the angler fish's lure, enticing and made to draw in prey, for Fischer found it difficult to tear his attention away. He'd never had that issue before, had ignored the sung enticements and beckoning gestures encouraging him to enter treacherous waters.

At last, the siren nodded and took his hand in both of his. He didn't drag Fischer into the water or even attempt to lure him in, he just squeezed his hand firmly between both his own and their warmth mingled together slowly.

They stayed like that for a long while.

And they stayed together longer even after.

———————

"Hey, Galal, do you remember when you used to try to eat me?"

"Ugh! Can you just forget about that, Fischer? I've apologised a thousand times for it by now!"

"No, well, it's just funny in retrospect. I'm not mad about it."

"What's funny about it? Honestly. I almost ate my future husband."

"Haha."