pretty boy, consumed by death

Harrison knew the shoreline of Sowell Bay better than he knew the back of his hand, which, after just a few months on land, wasn’t saying much. The waxing crescent moon taunted him through the ashen-grey clouds for the sixth time since he lost his precious sealskin. In Hawaii, he had counted his days by the phases of the moon and the changes in the ocean currents. Now, he knew it by the sound of Mrs Davies’s voice as she ranted about the 49ers’ secondary during her weekly cigarette shop, or when Tanner dragged his sorry self through the front door, lamenting the existence of ‘Mondays’ and its somehow even crueller cousin, the Saturday-morning hangover. He wasn’t sure if he longed for the simplicity of the lunar cycle or not, but what he did know was that, if - no, when he saw his family again, he would see about keeping the Friday night tradition of ‘just one’.

Harrison supposed it was some weird human custom that even his normally reliable Google hadn’t yet figured out - where humans would signal their favourite activities by pretending to be embarrassed by them. As peculiar as it was, Harrison was pleased to find he had cottoned on quickly. All he had to do was round his eyes, give them enough attention and (in Cam’s case) kisses, to meet the undefined quota and for them to begrudgingly concede with a congratulatory ‘fine then’. 

Of course, he always enjoyed it when he won their game, but it reached its zenith on the legendary Friday date night. Whether it was dancing at the bar, singing along the beach or downing those neon green shots that tasted of those incredibly disappointing gummy fish. On a Friday, the fabled line lengthened into its grandest form: ‘Fine then, but just one’. Harrison had been so proud of himself when he deduced the code - that ‘one’ meant ‘as many as possible’. Their dates would then go on into the night, until their feet hurt, their throats were sore, or they stumbled each other home. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do any of those things as a seal, but he loved it too much to let it go now.

Harrison was going to do a lot of things when he got back. Old, incredible things he missed, and the new, ridiculous stuff he had learnt. Hell, maybe he would keep up paddle boarding or try that surfing that was so popular back home. His sister would probably enjoy it, or at least enjoy laughing at him fail. He knew it was childish, but increasingly, those childish hopes were the ones that stuck with him the most. He held onto them as he caught Tova’s eyes following his line of sight towards the moon. She smiled sweetly at him, her customary knowing glint made his heart race and soothed his mind all at once.

However, the silence between the two men was uneasy. The pain of Harrison trying to leave without an explanation was still fresh for Cameron. Over and over again, he reminded himself that he had done the same thing to Tova and Ethan, with only a bottle of lemon and vinegar being enough to break him out of his furious stupor. But that didn’t make looking at Harrison easy, nor did it suppress his natural urge to shut down and give up whenever things got too close or difficult. 

Trying to distract himself, Cameron immersed himself in the nature that surrounded them as they walked further and further away from town, something he never thought to do before Sowell Bay. Gulls followed them overhead like their own personal procession, while the sea lions kept a dutiful watch like bumbling spies whose shiny coats stopped them from blending into the shadows of the overarching cliffs. For one uneasy moment, they reminded Cameron of the bewitched, enamoured fish at the aquarium, or hell, even the suddenly friendly barflies at their local dive or the besotted old ladies of Tova’s knitting group who all turned their heads whenever Harrison entered a room. Even though he preferred to keep a low profile, Cameron wasn’t sure if he had been jealous of Harrison’s innate magnetism or not. It was endearing (if sometimes exhausting) when they were together, but apart, it made him feel untethered. As though he existed outside of gravity, desperately trying to remain in his orbit for as long as he could glance over at him unseen. Their eyes met over his grandmother’s head every time before hastily retreating.

Keeping his arm around Tova, Cameron quickened his pace so that at least he could avoid the indignity of Harrison catching the petulant pout on his face. However, the cleaning lady absorbed the tension like a sponge with her gentle confidence and resting smile. If Cameron didn’t know better, he would have thought she was excited. 

The ground rose under their feet as they diverged off the sandy beach and onto tiny jagged scales of ancient black basalt. Cameron gravely muttered that they weren’t in Kansas anymore. Harrison simply confirmed that no, this was still Washington. 

The selkie kept them away from the edge and the crashing waves as best he could. But the rocks proved trickier for Tova’s space boot than she let on. Eventually, the two silently found their shared stride once again and walked together, with Tova wedged between them. A fragile, unspoken truce formed to keep her safe.

“Nearly there now,” Harrison announced. “Need a break, Ms Sullivan?” 

They both knew the answer, and more importantly, not to argue. She shook her head, so they continued until the rocks overhung the outstretched crooked finger of headland to create a small, covered grove like the patio canopies of the rich houses Cameron would dream of living in as a child.

Cameron had no idea what to expect - not even meeting Simon Brinks had made his palms sweat like this. Yet, as they got closer, he couldn’t ignore the feeling of déjà vu any longer. He knew this place. His mom had so perfectly described these very spits and bays in her bedtime stories about selkies, entwined with sparse recollections of her childhood. Upon every retelling, she had transformed from the cold, distant woman who haunted his home to someone he thought only existed in his friend Elizabeth’s Disney movies. 

He knew if he just closed his eyes, he would once again hear the hard edge of her voice slowly erode with each lovingly told description of the gentle evening tide. It looked, felt, and even smelled exactly like the picture she had painted in the corner of his mind, which still refused to let her go, even all these years later. Something about it made his blood boil. But the breeze carried her voice anyway, leading him by her tales across the entire width of the coast and out to the edge of the water, where she would always stop dead in her tracks and quietly wish him goodnight. Now, he stopped too, standing at the end of the headland. He saw it, just under the web of shadows and stone was the mouth of a small cavern, blocked haphazardly by driftwood and clumps of dragged-up moss that looked like sleeping guards from an Arthurian tale.

“This is it”, Harrison sighed, pulling some of the debris away. He hovered by the entrance and beckoned them in with a small shrug of his hand. So ominous and all-compassing was the darkness that Cameron was half-expecting to find a satanic sacrifice in progress, but that wasn’t enough to stop Tova. She all but pushed him inside like he was the next victim up, while offering a gentle, motherly brush of her fingers against the nervous selkie. With the sun now barely touching the horizon, Cameron tapped ‌his phone, and the torch turned on. Feeling underwater, Harrison held his breath.

What looked like the opening to a giant system of caves and tunnels was quickly dispelled when the light touched every corner of the grotto with just a quick sweep of his phone. At ‌half the length of the camper, yet twice the depth, there was barely enough room to fit the dishevelled sleeping bag and cassette player that lay at its centre. Encircling them was a garish, chaotic assortment of what Cameron could only call, trash. Piles and piles of it.

“The hell is this, Harri?” Cameron whipped around to face him, but Harrison stubbornly refused to look up from the floor. 

Resting his head against the side of the entrance, Harrison hugged his arms as tightly to his chest as he did his childish hope that Cameron would intuitively understand the impossible and save him like one of those comics he’d browse on his lunch break. Cameron used to joke that the Bay didn’t need a lighthouse; all they needed to do was dangle Harrison from the edge of the cliffs, tell him a dumb joke, and his goofy-ass grin would do the rest. But now, against the backdrop of the encroaching night sky, he looked lost amongst the darkness that melted into his skin and swallowed his smile with it.

Against the backdrop of the roaring waves, Cameron strained to hear him. “This is where I used to live… Now I just come here when I need to be alone or drop off some stuff from time to time.”

“Couldn’t have left it at my place?” he retorted.

In his surprise, it sounded harsher than Cameron intended, but Harrison didn’t wince like at the aquarium. “Didn’t want to intrude”, he said simply.

Of course, his ‘explanation’ didn’t answer any of Cam’s questions, least of all why he had dragged them out to the middle of nowhere just to show them some rocks and a landfill. However, seeing this hidden side of Harrison, the one that actually showed he wasn’t some Buddhist monk, sparked a reluctant curiosity in Cameron, and a much less reluctant one in Tova, who was already rummaging through his treasure trove of knick-knacks.

It reminded him of his Aunt Jeanie’s trailer that burst at the seams after decades of hoarding. But where she collected everything, he slowly but surely began to parse out the patterns in the brightly coloured layers of both natural and man-made sediment. The recycling provided the cave with its oldest foundations until it climbed up the walls like an intrusive mould. Eventually, the trash grew generic trinkets whose cheap paint peeled off like a sunburn amongst the cobwebs. Then those cheap toys bloomed into vines, with bunches of handmade, precious goods nestling in the natural grooves like shelves on a feature wall.

 So, Cameron thought, Harri made a cave his home rather than mine.

Harrison had smiled through Cameron’s not-so-subtle probing and Ethan’s outright interrogation. Offering only vague hints about where he used to live right up until the day he found a brand-new pillow and toothbrush in the camper just for him. After that, barely a night went by without the pair sharing reheated mac n’ cheese for supper before crashing on the very mattress where they’d eaten. Neither of them had much in the way of luxuries. Yet it still hurt deeply that for all the room he took up in Cameron’s life, it had taken Harrison only a few seconds to clear up his things and leave. And hours longer for Cameron to realise they were gone at all. At least when his last ex kicked him to the curb, Cam had contributed just enough to the relationship not to have all his stuff tossed out the window. With Harrison, all he could find to throw in revenge was an empty gum wrapper. He hastily scrunched it up and angrily hurled it out of the camper with all the velocity of a fastballer, only for a gentle breeze to blow it straight back in. And now here it was- all of Harrison’s stuff. It was such a mess, he didn’t think throwing anything would make a difference. 

Cameron tapped his foot as he waited for the punchline. 

Tova either didn’t sense the growing disquiet or, more likely, chose to simply ignore it as she bent awkwardly in the far-left corner, appraising a worn-down crab pot and taking out each item one at a time with the reverence normally granted for long-lost treasures. A slice of luscious coral, an antique harpoon rusted to a dull, mottled copper, and a display of shells, flora and rocks to rival the finest museum jangled in her hands- All of them belonging to the bottom of the ocean.

She turned, holding up a fossilised sea urchin to the torchlight. “Oh, Harrison. So they were all from you?”

Cameron was trying his best to give Harrison the benefit of the doubt, but his patience was growing thin with whatever secret they were keeping from him. However, before he could call them out, he caught a small, reluctant tug gracing Harrison’s lips for the first time since they left the aquarium. 

“Without fail, Ms Sullivan,” Harrison said with a speck of pride before shyness overtook him again. “Although I should have gotten you all something better. I thought they were worth more than they actually were.”

“They were worth a lot to us.”

With just one solemnly spoken sentence, Cameron saw a full smile creep up on the other man and push out a tiny laugh. “Good. That’s… That’s good. Guess I don’t have to buy you that coffee machine instead, then.”

Tova chuckled, “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

While his grandmother worked her magic and helped Harrison relax, Cameron searched for a small handhold to rest his phone on, letting it illuminate the entire cavern. Fuck it. If this could be the last thing he could do for Harrison, he would give it a shot.

The cave was altogether alien, yet too familiar to be comforting. If owners looked like their homes, this was the uncanny valley made manifest. Where Harrison’s personality was bubbly, the cave popped with colour. For the times he could keep still, a small nook provided a puddle of tranquillity in an ocean of chaos. And for all the multitudes Harrison sublimated under the guise of Sowell’s friendly, neighbourhood grocer, Cameron suspected this cave mirrored them all. To know Harrison’s great shameful secret was merely himself made him want to scoop him up in his arms and snark those silly thoughts away. But not even his most childish, long-lost fantasies allowed him to believe that. 

Near his feet lay a small heap of refuse thrown into the bin that Ethan had thrown out a few weeks earlier. At first, he assumed Harrison was secretly just as messy as he himself used to be, but on closer inspection, he saw the seaweed and sand clinging to the bottles, cans, and plastic bags like a parasitic growth. Cameron knew of his and Avery’s two-person clean-up crew along the beach; it was the closest thing to ranting that Harrison ever got. But he always assumed they threw the trash away afterwards. Now he beheld a sea lion, glued together from the same materials they found, a chewed-up piece of gum lolling out of its cut-out mouth like a tongue. 

Tova spotted him lingering, “Oh, is that the sea lion who follows you around, Harrison?”

“You can tell?”

“He always sticks his tongue out when you're there, like an excitable little puppy. Not to mention that god-awful racket he makes when Ethan dares to take up your time!” she mused.

Cameron jumped in, “Wait, that’s the seal-”

“Sea lion”, they corrected in unison.

“Whatever - that's the one who jumped me?”

Harrison’s eyes went wider than the ones he had drawn on the model. “What? No! No! Kev- He just wanted some of my food, and you were just… in the way.”

Cam side-eyed the model like a man scorned. “So I nearly got crushed to death, and you immortalised my would-be murderer in some Coke cans and plastic?” 

“He snuggled you,” Harrison corrected. “He likes you really. It’s just that he likes tuna more.”

“That does not make me feel better.”

“I like you better than tuna, if that helps”, he promised with an earnestness that from anyone else would have sounded sarcastic. Cameron’s heart thumped hollowly in his chest, skipping a beat as he skipped over the other models and onto the next wall.

To the side of the recycling lay stacks of secondhand books. He scanned the spines: ‘Astonishing Art with Recycled Rubbish’, ‘A Bear Called Paddington’, ‘101 Quick and Easy Seafood Recipes’, ‘10,000 Leagues Under the Sea’ and ‘Jurassic Park’, coupled next to an illustrative encyclopedia of dinosaurs for reference. A not insignificant amount of cheesy rom-com books made their own section of the makeshift library, every other page dog-eared and shining from highlighter pens like a devoted student’s textbook. So was that where Harrison got some of his corny lines from? A cosy smile thinned out Cameron’s lips. He couldn’t judge. He’d gotten his from everything from Shakespeare to Tom Cruise. 

To Cameron’s relief, the book entitled ‘So You Want to Be a Doctor?’ appeared pristine and, most importantly, unread. Instead, a collection of mixtapes sat upon the weighty tome like a pedestal. They were all ones they had made together, Harrison taking the A side, and Cameron the B, embellished with their track list and a homemade cover. Others he didn’t recognise, blank tapes with just dates and places scrawled on them, but he knew those names. How could he not? They were the bars he sang ‌at. 

Turning to Harrison, his voice caught on an octave too high, “Wait. Y-you recorded my gigs?”

He looked shocked. “Course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because they sucked”, he said indignantly, like it was self-evident. Like, there was no way Harrison could think differently. 

“Because…” that would mean you really cared, he wanted to say. Instead, he just pleaded with wide eyes that shimmered like the stars outside. It wasn’t fair. None of his partners had ever even been to a Moth Sausage show, let alone enjoyed any of their stuff. They all presumed it was something he would grow out of, while they grew out of him. In the end, his life’s passion was reduced to just another bullet point in a long list of reasons they were breaking up with him- not that he could argue with any of them. But for Harrison, he had tried to face his past mistakes and become a better person. And yet here he was, embracing his dumb music anyway. Real, fuckin’ fair.

“I loved them,” came the only response Harrison had, rescuing Cameron from spiralling further. He willed a grin into existence. “Even if you tried to ruin Japanese Breakfast for a generation of impressionably drunk hipsters.”

He huffed, “They don’t need me to do that.”

“So mean and so wrong,” Harrison tutted in his well-practised invitation to join in their jokey back and forth.

Cam fell for it every time. “And yet so incredibly brave and sexy of me”. 

His ‘dude bro’ voice never failed to steal a giggle from Harrison (and only Harrison) with a whip back of his hair. Shit, it was too easy, too comfortable, to fall into their natural rhythm, but he had already committed to his old bit and reclined back against the wall. A soft whoosh turned into a cacophony of bangs as he knocked over a painted paper plate from on top of its rocky shelf, and in his attempt to rescue it, knocked over four more and nearly himself. The fact that even his own flesh and blood sat there pitying him (and when later interrogated, definitely not sniggering) hurt more than the jewellery box that fell on his foot.

Accompanied by a series of hastily muttered apologies, Cam put them back into their exact place, ignoring Harrison’s assurances to leave them be. Tova piped up from the other side of the room, barely containing her sadistic glee at Cameron’s pain. “Japanese Dinner or whatever you call that noise-”

“Breakfast”, they corrected.

She rolled her eyes with a weary exasperation that belied her few short hours as a grandmother. “Them. I thought that was the band you said you didn’t like, Harrison? The one on the shirt Ethan gave you?”

“Wait-”, Cameron’s brow shot up, slowly taking the rest of his face with it as the realisation sank in. “Don’t tell me- You don’t like Japanese Breakfast after all? I fuckin-”

“Ah!” Tova scolded.

“I freakin’ knew it!”

“Didn’t like,” Harrison smirked to hide the blush. “Very, very much past tense.” 

“Oh, no way. Here, I thought you were hiding Kennedy’s body. This is way more serious, Harrison.”

“It’s a long story.” One Harrison very much didn’t want to tell, although why, he wasn’t sure. There was something in it that always drew him back, circling the memories like water down the drain until all he could do to drag himself out again was make stupid paper plates. But the pair were patiently waiting, with Cameron still securely holding the jewellery box. He shifted its weight between his hands as though he hadn’t quite realised it was still there- until he ran his finger over the lid. A faint, angelic glow escaped the thin slit.

It came out of him like a shot and just as abrupt: “It was the last time I saw my sister”. The box snapped shut, suddenly stilled, but Harrison’s hands didn’t as he raked them through his hair. As Avery was fond of telling him, he’d really put his foot in it now. However, to his surprise, he looked at the plates over Cameron’s shoulder and found his mouth moving by itself as though it knew better.

“C-Chloe loved- loves‌ music, ya know? The whole family does, but my folks prefer the classics. Like, real classics - choral music, Gregorian chant kind of stuff. But my sister always had to be different. It was obvious from the first moment I saw her.”

Tova secretly glanced at her grandson, mirroring Harrison’s dreamy, gratified smile. “We didn’t really have the means to buy records or listen to new music, so she’d drag me to the beach under the guise of babysitting, and we’d hang out near this local record store that would just blast out all this obscure stuff at full volume. Swear the owner must have been half-deaf to put up with it, but it was everything to us…” A fond laugh caught in his mouth, ballooning his round cheeks, “God, I remember the restaurant next door used to bring us leftovers when they closed up shop- it was incredible. And if they didn’t have any, the cook would whip something up just for us.”

As he talked, Cameron could hear the knot in his voice begin to unfurl. He spoke as though he were experiencing it all for the first time, even though it had haunted him for years. Putting it into words made it feel lighter. Seeing the looks on their faces made it feel monumental. Somehow, he had forgotten all about the kind apprentice with their lomi-lomi salmon and the off-cuts of ahi tuna, but the cosy, affectionate warmth that returned to his chest had not. 

“Just before I had to leave, their debut single came out. She loved it, so obviously I had to mess with her and hate it, but there was never any beating her.” Harrison glowed with awe, a tender wonder reserved only for older brothers when their siblings weren’t there to hear it. “I only called them overrated once, but boy, she was angrier than when I called Ethan, English.”

Cameron innocently shrugged away Harrison’s pointed rendition of a grumpy pufferfish, otherwise known as his hard stare. 

He shook his head and continued. “The next day, she harassed the owner to play it on a constant loop over and over until I couldn’t take it anymore, and honestly, neither could the poor coastguard. Fair to say Chloe won that one. I didn't hear it again for ages, but a few months back, just before you came into town… There was this girl-”

“That's normally how it goes,” Cam countered, a note too high to pass for nonchalance. 

A hand waved him off. “Not like that. Sure, she was pretty and talented- Tsk, stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“That thing you do. That look,” Harrison kidded. “The one I’m not allowed to talk about.”

Cameron’s eyes twitched towards the gossip in wolf’s clothing. Tactfully, Tova browsed the cave like it was an art gallery, and just as quietly, lest she miss a word.

With a heavy sigh, Cameron confidently announced. “M’not jealous.”

It had taken him a dozen ‌slighted drinks alone at the bar to accept that this was who Harrison was. Jealousy wasn’t a concept Harrison had dealt with much before, although with Cameron’s refusal to address it, he couldn’t say he’d made any progress on the subject other than it made his nose shrivel like discounted dried prunes. 

“Nor should you be! She’s not from around here, just an artist who stopped by for gas and ended up sticking around to paint the ocean. I was just hanging out on the beach watching her work, nothing else, and then, just like that-” He clicked his fingers. “I heard Chloe’s song come on her playlist… And I got it.” He laughed. “God, my sis won again, huh?” 

The mixtape Cameron made for him yesterday weighed heavily in his pocket. It was the same song he put centre stage on the A-side. Had Cameron deduced that this song meant so much to him, despite how rarely he could bring himself to play it?

A lone seagull waddled by his feet, interrupting his reverie as it searched for the seeds he always left out for them. It side-eyed the competition but ignored them in favour of the delectable feast of trail mix that Harrison fished out of his pockets. “Think she must have seen me enjoying it, as she played their entire album on max. It was… nice. Even though it was raining, it felt like I was right back in Hawaii, eating shrimp and listening to Cooper’s records again, while a bunch of far less demanding gulls hung out with us.”

An enigmatic expression crossed Harrison’s face, the one Cameron recognised when he peered out into the water, or glanced at their friends when he thought they weren’t looking. “I never learnt her name or even spoke to her, but man, you guys should have seen it. She was incredible.”

Cameron teasingly quirked a single eyebrow that worked him over better than any medieval torture technique. Even Tova replicated it.

“Her painting was incredible. Like, actually incredible, not just me incredible,” he humphed with a giggle. “She just… got the ocean in the way other people never did. All these tiny details she got in one day, like how the sun always hit Mr Cox’s fishing boat in the morning or how the lagoon had its own current.” 

He mustered a gesture towards a set of paints and discarded paper plates he used as canvases in the corner. “I gave it a go, or rather twenty, but I couldn’t ever capture this place as she did in just one day. Even when I sit out here to paint, I’m still missing something - mine feel so lifeless and just… empty, compared to hers.”

They drew him in until his voice sounded as distant as the scenes. But not fully. No, his never had the power to do that. All Harrison wanted to do was tell them the truth. That to her, he had been nothing more than an overly curious seal, nuzzling at her phone’s screen until a random indie song played on loop. That he had not spoken to her, not because he was shy, but because it was simply a physical impossibility. As impossible as it felt now.

If only he could just tell them. They knew how truly agonising it was to lose everything. The ocean had been Harrison’s first love, his sister the second. Now he could only visit both of them through a single song. These precious humans had always been his best interpreters; they would know what his paintings lacked and precisely how to fix them. He opened his mouth for what felt like the millionth time to confess and closed it again with a brusque kick against the moss.

It took a few beats of raindrops for Cameron to realise Harrison’s story had come to its abrupt end. He’d never heard him speak for so long and so unsure of himself, let alone about anything from before they’d met. When he had first mentioned his sister months ago, Cameron had been sure it was a slip of the tongue. Surer still when he scrambled for the name Chloe after listing five others. 

Now, it was like watching a 2D cartoon character come to life before his eyes. His Harrison, who only existed in the moment, suddenly filled out the page. He grew wrinkles and a dusting of grey with each word he spoke and each utterance of home. Cameron knew there was something still missing, but catching a solid glimpse of the grief that lay behind his radiant smile made it all the more remarkable. It made Harrison more remarkable. 

Fuck everything else that happened today. Hell, fuck this stupid spelunking trip. He had to see it again.

“Wooow,” Cam lowly drawled, feigning sarcasm. “Feel like a real asshole for making fun of that song now. ‘Appreciate that.”

“I may not be able to beat my sis, but I can get one over on you, Cam.”

“Yeah, yeah, lap it up. It was a cheap trick getting all soft like that,” he teased, turning back to the wall with casually dramatic flair. “Here, let’s see what else gets me story time with Harrison.”

Cameron finally put down the jewellery box, but Harrison barely had time to relax as he replaced it in his hands with some paintings that he’d insulted from a heap in the corner. He knew most of them from various spots around the bay, little vignettes stubbornly put to a cheap canvas he recognised from Ethan’s twentieth anniversary party of the shop. That was Harrison, alright, never wasting a thing - Frankly, Cameron couldn’t believe there’d been any plates left. Harrison had been the best mascot a boss could ask for, as he donned a giant lobster costume in the height of summer and brought the crowds in by the dozens with his incessant dancing and unscripted factoids for the kids. The humid air felt like sucking in molasses as Cam struggled to clear his throat. Come on, don’t make this harder than it already is.

Despite its clearly amateurish effort, Cam couldn’t say he noticed anything particularly wrong with the paintings. Then again, once upon a time, he thought the doodles of the resident high-school stoner were good enough to tattoo all down his arms. However, Tova barrelled into his side like it was Black Friday, picking up the plates that had taken pride and place on the wall before Cameron had knocked them over.

In her hands lay five paintings: the bowling alley where they spent Harrison’s ‘birthday’, the aquarium, Ethan’s and Avery’s shop, and the lookout point where Harrison had left his goodbye note. But instead of the incredible view, he had painted the dilapidated picnic tables where they hung out, the empty boxes of chow mein, and the local dogs who would have chased Harrison’s endlessly intriguing scent into the Sahara. The others followed its pattern. Sowell’s aquarium filled with an excited gaggle of children around a proud octopus and a certain staff member who caught his eye, even though he didn’t yet know his name. The shops with their small quirky mementoes that only Harrison ever loved, and their owners, poorly proportioned but with their exact character shining through with just a few minor details that only someone who had truly studied them would notice. Cameron chuckled; they both stood in the same way they did when they told Harrison off, but with giant drawn-on grins that far exceeded their outlines. He always assumed Harrison was oblivious to notice when he annoyed them, but maybe he saw something he didn’t.

“Harrison, these are beautiful. I especially like this one of the bowling alley,” Tova admired. “Although…”

She studied the painting further, specifically the drunken, retching man by the fire exit, until she saw the necklace dangle from the figure - the very one Harrison had gifted on his own birthday.

If her metaphorical daggers were real, Cameron wouldn't have recoiled so quickly. He pushed his pendant into his shirt as she slapped his bicep. “What? I’m completely innocent. Harrison, tell her-”

But Harrison wasn’t paying attention. A haze had fallen over his eyes as they fell upon one of his most prized collections. Unable to hide it any longer, his face stripped itself of all pretence, down to its most honest canvas. 

“Oh, sweetheart”, Tova cooed, a sound too soft from the normally stoical woman.

The small alcove in the wall housed an almost fanatical shrine to Sowell Bay's aquarium… or at least its gift shop. Against the phone’s torch, the scales of cuddly fish reflected sequins of rainbows while a whole ledge draped with a garland of fishing line hung down like an untrimmed trailing plant, flowering with polaroids. Every staff member and resident, across all species, was attached with a clothes peg, offering their cheesy grins, a thumbs-up, and more than a few blank, fishy stares. But what caught their attention most were the ever-softening pictures of Marcellus inserted between them. From blurry cryptid sightings under his rock to a selfie of them together - Cameron didn’t think he’d ever seen the octopus without his scathing, condensing expression before. 

Still, not even in the cosiest photo did Marcellus look as deliriously happy as the box of memorabilia that sat underneath it. 

Cameron bellowed, so shocked and sudden that even his own echo made him jump. “So you’re the one who stole all the magnets of Marcellus!?” Of course, it had to be him. 

Harrison tried to smile, but the residual guilt made him blush. “Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry about that one.”

“Why? You paid for it, didn’t you?” “Kinda. It was…” Harrison went quiet, sucking in his teeth, deliberating before he practically chewed the words out. “... Marcellus’s idea”. 

Cameron waited patiently for the joke, but Tova stood at attention as he continued. “He, um, hated those magnets. Said they made him look like-”. He deepened his voice into a wise, regal tenor, “a feeble-minded ignoramus whose existence even a simple human larva would pity.” 

A soft, dry huff whistled through his nose. Marcellus always insisted it sounded nothing like him. “He didn’t mind the ones where he looked like a terrifying kraken, just these. So he wanted them gone. I didn’t realise it was stealing, so I took them from the shop and brought them back here.” He should have known he’d messed up when Marcellus complimented him for once. “It was only when Terry lost his marbles over it and said he was going to call the cops that I panicked and wrote out a cheque.”

Tova couldn’t help herself. Wait until the knit-wits hear about this. “An apology card with ‘please accept this cheque for however many dollars you need’ didn’t count, I’m afraid. But the fish crackers were very thoughtful of you!”

“Wait,” Cameron interrupted. “Course it was stealing, how could you think it wasn’t?”

Harrison went deathly still. When he worked up the courage to speak, it was to the seagull pecking at his shoe. “Because you were right, I am gullible. Marcellus said if his face was on it, it belonged to him.”

“An octopus… Told you to steal some shitty magnets? Because what? He had the rights to it?”

Voice stripped of all emotion, Harrison meekly rasped, “... You humans have a lot of rules. It gets hard to keep up.” 

It was the closest thing to the truth Harrison could bear to utter, and just as expected, it dropped between them with a heavy, resounding thud. His boss had always insisted that it was better to get things off your chest, but this didn’t feel like the relief he’d promised. No, now the weight of his secret crushed his chest like a vice.

Cameron did all he could to stay in control, but his voice cracked wide open. “Humans? Fuck, Harrison, this isn’t funny, man. If you’re going to leave, then go, but don’t fucking do this to me.”

Tova didn’t shout at him this time. She hovered between them on unsteady legs, but primed with a firm admonishment ready to go at a moment's notice. However, Harrison remained hugging the cave’s mouth, hoping the harsh rock would swallow him whole. What else could he say?

“Sorry.”

He tried again.

There was nothing else to offer.

Cameron was seething. How dare he?

How fucking dare he?

Foolishly, Cam had forgiven him at the aquarium, genuinely believing that Harrison… Well, Cameron just believed in Harrison. But no, here they were, dragging his elderly grandmother out to the middle of nowhere, and for what? To gawk at a trash heap and listen to some bullshit story about a talking octopus. 

Maybe that smile of Harrison’s had only ever been his way of making fun of him. Cameron had been prepared to let Harrison go if that's what he needed to be happy again. After years of arrested development, Cameron had tried. God help him, he had really tried to be someone he could be proud of. Someone who turned up on time, whose boyfriend actually showed up for his gigs, and who was worth more than eighteen years of child support. Turns out, that Cameron was worth a shrug, and another measly apology. At least when his mother left, he meant enough to her not to make a joke about it.

His fist clenched in his pocket. “Fuck. You,” he spat.

He swiped his phone off the ledge and propped it up in his pocket. A hard blow to his shoulder as he stormed past hurt him more than it did Harrison, yet he’d do it again in a heartbeat if he could. 

“Tova,” he bit. “Come on. Let’s get out of this shithole.”

The howling winds picked up speed, swallowing the calls of his name as Cameron bounded towards the edge of the headland to catch some air. When no footsteps followed, he reluctantly spun around with a spiteful, practised grimace prepped and loaded. However, to his surprise, Tova was too busy arguing with Harrison to notice. 

Boy, did he love it when his grandmother got pissed. Harrison barely seemed to fight back, looking just as defeated as Cameron felt. Good… That… This was supposed to feel good, wasn’t it?

What Ms Sullivan lacked in youth, she more than made up for with her oft-cited ‘spunk’. As small as she held herself, Harrison deflated before her flailing arms. Suddenly, even a bit reluctantly, he pointed. Her demeanour flipped on a dime. She vanished into the cave and emerged clutching the jewellery box Cam had knocked over, her face alight with a pride so intense he half expected her to bundle it under her arm and, space boot be damned, steal it away into the night. Instead, she embraced it in both hands and offered it up to Harrison with a warm, reassuring smile. Cameron wondered if his father had ever managed to refuse it.

“Tova,” he called. “Leave him. He’s made his choice.”

But the duo either didn’t hear or ignored him. Sensing his lingering anguish, Tova held Harrison within her loving gaze. Looking at him. Really looking. She must have found what she was searching for, as she graced him with a simple touch. Lightly, she smoothed down the mop of sandy brown hair and then caressed her fingers over his clammy skin. Past the rise of his plump cheek. Then, further still, until she gently scratched under his ear in the shape of a crescent moon. Even all these months later, that one tender action made him want to slap his tummy and curve his back to greet it. It was the same way she had petted him on the long evenings by the pier when she was a lost widow, and he was just another lost seal. No… He was never ‘just’ anything, not with her.

So she really remembered him.

Wiping an errant tear away, she whispered, Cam didn’t know what. But Harrison nodded along, hard and fast. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he accepted the box and raced towards Cameron.

Neither of them said anything, not until Cameron realised Harrison was holding the box out for him. He felt so tired. He didn’t want to play this game anymore; he just wanted to go home with his grandma and wallow in self-pity until he forgot the last five months ever happened, but Harrison nudged the box forward again. For once, insistent.

The selkie’s face was pale as he spoke, his mouth almost limp, as though his muscles had given up their control of it. Yet his voice sounded more confident than it had done since they arrived. “I know you don’t owe me anything, Cameron, not after what I’ve done. But you don’t deserve to be left angry.”

Wearily, Cam sized him up. Eyes larger and wetter than even his kinfolk before he snatched the box from him, lingering for a moment to see if Harrison’s demeanour changed. The splintered wood creaked under his hard grip, then, with a defeated sigh, he turned away and pulled open the lid to get this over with.

What the hell?

Within the box lay a single discarded spice jar from the shop, surrounded by a selection of emerald green, wine-soaked red, and tawny orange coral that twisted around each other like a bouquet of exotic wildflowers. But they weren’t what caught Cameron’s attention. Within the spice jar, there were only flakes of coral and seawater. And yet it lit up brighter than the night sky on the Fourth of July. The water swirled to its own impossible current, a million stars of iridescent blue and precious silver schooled together like racing neon tetras until it hummed a soft, pulsating glow.

Every shimmering light reflected on Cameron’s face like a disco ball. “What… the fuck.”

“It’s an old family recipe,” Harrison said calmly, hearing Cameron’s bubbling unease.

“T-This is a trick, right?”

“Promise, no trick. Here, let me show you.” Harrison held out his hand.

Automatically, Cam passed the jar over before he could think better of it. He felt like a hapless audience member dragged onto the stage for the improv actors to embarrass in front of a crowd of restless seagulls. But his body still worked on its old order to give Harrison anything he wanted. Of course, it was just some cheap curiosity Harrison had bought online. Cameron didn’t believe in childish fantasies anymore. Didn’t believe much in anything since his mother left. Come morning, he would find the box in Ethan’s trash, and that would be that. And yet.. that didn’t explain why his hands still glowed.

The jar pulsed faster under Harrison’s firm grasp. The humans had promised him back at the aquarium that they would do whatever it took to help. He could do this; he knew he could do this. Long ago, his parents had admonished him for being so trusting of their kind, but neither they nor thousands of years of selkie wisdom had known Tova Sullivan or Cameron Cassmore. But he and his childish hopes did.

Before he could doubt himself again, he held onto that promise and marched straight over to Tova.

“No- Hey, what are you doin’?” Cameron protested.

She didn’t seem surprised when Harrison returned with Cameron in tow, although she was curious. The last few hours took their toll on her leg as she sought the support of the driftwood Harrison had used to barricade the cavern. Kneeling at her feet, he tilted his head to the side like a curious puppy, waiting for her to give the all clear. 

“Your family will be so proud of you, dear,” she said before nodding.

He put his head down and squeezed her calf. “If I ever see them again.”

“Oh, I think you will,” she hummed. “Stranger things happen these days.”

Her grandson sat next to Tova on the driftwood, silently putting his jacket over the shivering woman so she couldn’t protest. 

“C-Can I take this off?” Harrison motioned to her boot. He didn’t need to look at Cameron to feel his watchful glare burning into him. “Promise, I’ll be gentle.”

She offered it to him without hesitation. A quickening pulse echoed in the tips of his fingers, trembling as he touched her as though it were something sacred. Yet, Harrison got to work with deft hands, undoing the straps as he had studied her doing time and time again in the hope she would one day allow him to help. 

Harrison removed the boot and delicately rolled up her pant leg. Neither of them could honestly say they’d seen her ankle since the accident - she had made sure of that. While the worst had passed, sand washed yellow and decayed goldenrod mottled her ankle like faded leopard spots, accented by ink blots of purple and blue, a testament to her inability to follow a single physio plan. Her sock bulged around the swelling from all the walking, yet she brushed off Harrison’s apologies and told him she trusted him.

It was all a blur after that. He unscrewed the lid. Swirled the luminescent water around in his mouth, and before Cam could really lose his shit, he spat straight onto his hands. He rubbed them together like a cartoon villain before massaging the mixture into every swollen inch of Tova’s leg. Hissing through the tender pain, she clung to ‌Cameron, who shouted at Harrison to stop, despite Tova’s constant stream of shushes. Yet the selkie held firm for a few more vital seconds until he heard the hitch in her voice flatten out into something approaching a soft sigh. With her, the men breathed again. 

When he removed his hands, it was gone. All of it, just… gone. Only a glimmering glow swaddled her unblemished leg. 

They all watched in awe and amazement as Harrison smoothed her clothes back into place, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Jubilant, Tova rolled her foot back and forth - even her father, who knew the legends of selkies inside and out, never told her of this.

For once, not by choice, she was speechless.

So too was Cameron, although not for the same reason. As the aluminium sheen faded into her skin, it caught on Harrison’s features at precisely the same moment the moon came out of retirement from behind the clouds and bathed him in its spotlight. 

Everything shifted. Cameron could have sworn the whole earth did.

He looked around. It wasn’t just from his mother’s stories that he knew this place. 

He had seen it from atop the lookout point when he first entered ‌town and became entranced by a naked, lone figure, swaying to a cassette player, as resplendent under the moonlight as he was tragic. The mysterious stranger had moved, not with the music, but with the waves of the ocean. Back and forth with each crash, the sea foam showering him like confetti, and yet with the restraint of someone used to dancing pressed against a crowd. As though if he extended his arms, he’d accidentally hit someone, while his legs barely moved at all. Cam had always assumed he was just some weirdo off his tits or vibing… But what if it was because he was just naturally unsteady on his feet? His Harrison danced so much freer than the stranger had done. But Cameron still remembered their first time at the bar, when Harrison had stumbled over his feet and held on for dear life. 

Staring into those sea-glass blue eyes, Cameron knew it was him. He didn’t need to check the cassette player in the cave to know that. 

But the realisation didn’t slow down his racing thoughts. In fact, they only sped up like a runaway train. His mother’s voice encouraged them on. Old tales of mystical sea creatures, their untarnished, free spirit, their majestic movements, and their supernatural, ethereal beauty found their proof within the man before him. Every story played in his ears as he saw Harrison as though for the very first time.     

And yet those stories weren’t him, not fully. Harrison felt unmoored from that history. Now his beauty was buttoned up under plaid shirts, his body too gangly, too packed with unnecessary limbs to relearn elegance, and too out of place to be free. But he had tried his best anyway.

A quiet understanding descended upon Cameron. More monumental than before, but the earth didn’t move with it this time. Instead, he moved to meet the earth. Returning to the reality he’d once believed in only as a young kid, back when magic was real and happy endings were inevitable.

Everything slotted into place. First, the trinkets from the bottom of the ocean that Tova found when they first entered the cave. On his way into town, Cameron had overheard the local gossips chatting about the mystery of the shells left outside the aquarium every month. He’d cleaned them up himself, putting them in the trash only to rescue them hours later at Terry’s insistence. But surely, that would mean Harrison had started the tradition before ever setting foot in the place?

It didn’t make any sense, but everything else did. The way the fish responded to him and only him. The gaps in basic knowledge, but the breadth of wisdom about the ocean. His barely contained excitement as he learnt to walk straighter, the shrill bark he made when surprised, or the low bubbly purr when he beached himself upon Cameron’s bed. Every morning walk spent searching for something, the afternoons soaking in the rain, and the long nights quietly watching the shifting moon… It was all there, even down to his reluctance to buy the first beer in case he got ID’d.

Marcellus must have known, too. 

Shit. What an insane thought, that an octopus could know anything at all. But that was nothing compared to the realisation that Harrison really had been conversing with him the whole time. How else could he explain the magnets? The foreign name left in the tank that had shaken Harrison so badly? Or the abandoned ring that led Cameron back to his family?

How else could he explain the love of his life?

Cameron knew then what those paintings of the ocean were missing. The question that was haunting Harrison. They were the side of himself he had slowly lost touch with until they became nothing but a distant fantasy that their creator wouldn’t allow himself to believe in. Half-remembered snapshots, devoid of everything that made him the being he was before Harrison Knott took over. While the paintings of his time in Sowell had burst at the seams with life and love, the ocean was too close to home to comfort. The family and friends who made it, too far away. 

But where Harrison had desperately clung to a fading, childish hope to keep himself going, Cameron’s childhood fantasies had been right all along. 

“You’re….”

Harrison nodded slowly, a crooked, almost puppy-like upturn of his lips.

“You’re a selkie?”

Cameron’s stomach flipped. There it is. 

There was Harrison’s radiant smile again. It really did shine brighter than he could have ever imagined. 

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It was in the fifth month of his time on land that the cracks in the dam finally burst.

Bang.

Bang!Bang!Bang!BANG!

Harrison couldn’t breathe. Or maybe he was, and that was what was killing him?

A slipstream of bubbles burst before his eyes with each slap on the glass. These hands were wrong. He shouldn’t have hands. Water filled his lungs as he tried to scream for help, swallowing his desperate cries as he struggled to keep afloat. But there was no top to swim towards, only glass, glass and more glass. He kicked against it. Flailing in place while his stomach dropped like he was falling through a bottomless void. 

Finally, someone heard him. The face gathered friends, school children, every one of them gawking at him as he tried to escape. He turned again, and there was Cameron, his trusted rag in hand, perfectly polishing his cage with tight, circular motions as Tova watched on impassively. Relief flooded him for one cruel, taunting moment. And then he saw it. The sealskin in his boyfriend’s hand, dragging across the floor as though it were nothing but trash. Was that his skin? It felt so long ago that he could barely remember what he looked like. Tova’s voice sounded a million miles away, “He’s so special, Cameron. Can we keep him?”

“Course we can. He’s a prime specimen. Should be a few more years in him, yet”.

All at once, the bubbles popped. 

Bang!Bang!Bang!BANG!

Cam slammed his skin against the glass, pounding it again and again. It quaked under his sudden fury. Tova joined in. Then Ethan. Then Avery. The chorus of children screamed like a legion of orcas, drumming against his cage, muddying it with thick, sticky fingerprints until all he could see was Cameron. A sneer contorted his face, uglier than a wolf eel. A crack. Then another, paving its way like vicious lightning. The selkie impotently begged and begged. But the tank broke anyway, and everything went black.

Harrison awoke with a start. Twisting the newly washed bedsheets around his knuckles, he gasped like a goldfish as he fought off his nightmare. It was the third time that week. The panic loosened its hold, allowing ‌the sweet smell of Tova’s potpourri and homemade cooking to reassert its calming influence. They cradled him back to reality and into his nest of cushions and handmade throws, bunched together like a pod of fluffy seals huddled up for warmth. Harrison threw his arm up to shield his wet eyes and reached for Cameron. He always knew how to comfort him afterwards- But he was gone. This wasn’t their bed; he was on Tova Sullivan’s couch.

Yesterday, on a crisp Sunday morning, Cameron left in the camper to meet his father for the first time. Harrison knew something was either very wrong or very right when Cam shook him awake before their alarm. Jabbing his finger at the Caller ID, Cameron’s giddiness ‌bordered on the hysterical as he sat on the edge of the mattress and accepted the call. After months of searching, the Simon Brinks finally wanted to meet him. Today, if he could. All the way out in Seattle. The pair hadn’t spent a day apart in months. When Cameron agreed without a moment's hesitation, Harrison hid his face from view.

Cameron turned, thinking Harrison had fallen back asleep. He nudged him again. “Holy shit, Harri, did you hear that? This is it.”

“It’s..”, Harrison strained to see his watch. “Five in the morning, sweetheart. Sleep on it first.”

“Fuck, man, I don’t think I can. We’re gonna be rich! No more shitty camper. No more scraping gum. We can do whatever the hell we want!” Cameron rolled him over onto his back and brought Harrison’s hands to his mouth in a hard, wet kiss. He looked like an over-shaken champagne bottle ready to pop. 

But as he pulled away, Cameron froze for a second, the fizz in his veins softening to a gentle, ever-present buzz. He looked as though he wanted to ask something. Instead, he returned his lips to Harrison’s palm, raising it to cup his own cheek. He held Harrison there, nuzzling him softly while the only thing tighter than Cameron’s hold on his boyfriend’s wrists was the sound of his voice. Every minute detail of his plan was hashed out to a blank, sleepy stare: how he was going to meet that rich scumbag and claim his mythical eighteen years of child support. How they’d finally be able to leave this town for good. Come hell or high water, Cameron vowed, he would make things right. 

No mention was made of what kind of man Cameron’s father could be or the possibility of rekindling a relationship. Just that by this time tomorrow, they would be set. They would be so fucking rich, Cam promised. But even though he was still learning the subtleties of human speech, the selkie could hear what was unsaid. And then you can be happy again.

Harrison didn’t know if he was expecting an answer or not. Cameron looked so fiercely sincere that it made his heart flutter, but Harrison couldn’t afford to be drawn in. The rising sun reached through the windows, its warm rays caressing Cameron’s features better than Harrison dared allow himself to do. Yet, his thumb betrayed him when Cam enticed it to sweep along the fullness of his cheek with a tender, almost pleading kiss to the joint. Instantly, Cam melted against him. Grounding himself with just his simple touch, as if it were tantamount to an agreement.

But when a quiet, unthinking, “Are you sure this is what you want?” gently pricked Cameron’s ears, he deflated like a popped balloon. Cam knew that look all too well. Harrison was sorry for him. Lamely, he whispered. Imploring. “This is… I’m doing this for us.”

Cameron dropped his wrists, suddenly hyperaware of the skin blanching beneath his fingertips.

Unable to meet his glassy, round eyes, Harrison rose to sit against the wall, looking much more awake than he first appeared. Tova had once compared him to a babbling brook. Full of exuberant energy and clashing, invigorating streams of thought that all coalesced into one surprisingly gentle current, able to sweep up even a reluctant cynic like Cameron. But when he needed to be still, he could switch it off in an instant. Normally, he tried to avoid giving advice, preferring instead to simply listen and reflect back what he saw as their true intentions and selves. Tova had called it a gift. Harrison just laughed and said he never knew what to say. 

Not that he could tell her, but the human world was too complex for him at the best of times, let alone Cameron’s. Learning his foibles, his barely concealed loves, and even the depth of his anger was as fascinating to Harrison as the coral reefs of Hawaii or the thousands of underwater inhabitants of the Bay. But for the homesick selkie, losing contact with his family had felt as though a limb had been brutally severed. Sitting there, hearing Cameron speak so casually of cutting off his own flesh and blood, made that old phantom pain throb. Harrison may not know much about humans or their multitude of challenges, but he knew a little of this one.

“I know you’re doing this for us, Cam. I do. But just think about it for me? Is having a dad such a terrible idea? You’ve not even talked to him, and already you want him gone. Maybe he’s not all bad-”

The suggestion hit with a resounding ‘thud.’ What about this was always so difficult for Harrison to understand? 

“If he’s not, then he would have looked for me,” Cameron bit back. He tried to quell the hurt, twisting into his usual sardonic tone. “He left my deadbeat mom and me with nothing. And what did nothing get me? A rundown camper parked in the middle of nowhere, a mountain of loans and not even a high school diploma to show for it. So, fuck him. He's screwed me over for years; I’m not letting him take another goddamn day from me.”

He sounded like a scared little pup barking into the wind. Harrison so desperately wanted to escalate things for once and scream back at him. Take him by the shoulders and shake that ridiculous, genius brain of his loose. What he wouldn’t give to tell him that there was nothing to make right. That Cameron would always have everything he needed right here… But he couldn’t, because there was something irrevocably wrong. Something greater than either of them could ever fix. Harrison swore he could hear the ocean calling his true name from across the sleepy town.  

In that moment of hesitation, he saw the undiluted fear flash across Cameron’s eyes. The loneliness his continued presence was only adding to. It wasn’t Cameron who needed to make things right. It was him. And this was his opportunity.

He bit his tongue and backed off. “Okay. Yeah, okay. You’re right. It’s a good plan.” His smile didn’t crease the skin as he faked a yawn. “Especially the part I’m adding where we go back to sleep now, and we’re rich later.”

Cameron’s eyes narrowed, but he fell gratefully back into old habits. With a sly grin, he straddled Harrison before he could lie back down and ran his large hands over his crinkled-up bedshirt. “Mm hmm. Ya, know, I never got to the part of the plan where you get to make out with a ridiculously handsome guy before he leaves to find fame and fortune.”

Harrison was silent, but Cam told himself he was just half-asleep. Honed with a familiarity learnt in this very bed, Cameron quickly yet methodically coaxed him back to life, kissing him with all he was worth. Harrison wasn’t sure what was crueller, to return the kiss or to remain completely still under his hands. Letting Cameron decide, he opened his mouth just a touch, enough for his boyfriend to deepen it. He did so with a grateful sigh, leaning in further but keeping his crotch away from his as not to push. However, while his lower half controlled itself, his hands did not. Kraken-like fingers skimmed through the wave of Harrison’s hair, whipping it into a storm of wild and loose threads as he plundered Harrison’s mouth with a pirate’s lust. When the treasured moan threatened to escape, Harrison drove it back down.

The selkie felt, rather than heard, the broken, worried whimper against his lips when he silenced himself. Maybe this way really was crueller, but he was sure as shit never going to feel that again. Before Cam could pull away, Harrison seized him by the ass and pulled him close with an almost supernatural strength. Raising his knees so Cam couldn’t escape, Harrison all but growled into his very core, one arm hugging him tight while the other held the side of his neck, as though his spinning head would fall off as soon as he let go. Cameron gasped for air. But what use did he have for oxygen when Harrison was showering him in unparalleled adoration? By God, Cameron wanted to drown in it forever.

“Shit, Harrison,” Cam whined, panting. “Down, boy. You’re- fuck”

“Tch”, his tongue clicked. “Thought you were smoother than that.”

A hearty laugh filled the space between their lips, drawing them together again. And again.

With a pompous tone and an even sillier glint in his eye, Cameron serenaded every inch of his overheating skin between breathless, boyish giggles, “You have witchcraft in your lips, babe.”

The only response was an unintelligible ‘hm?’ that mixed deliciously into a groan, proving Cameron’s point.

“It’s Shakespeare, philistine.”

“Mhm- Who?”

Okay, now he really was just fucking with him. “An angel is like you, and you are like an angel?” Cameron quoted. “Don’t tell me no one ever compared you to a summer’s day?”

Harrison shook his head. The edge of Cam’s teeth against Harrison’s jaw made him quiver as he lamented, “their loss”. He trailed his tongue into the depths of his boyfriend’s dimples, kissing them deeper in the hopes of making them a permanent fixture on his handsome, angelic face. Cameron continued, his voice now moulded into something more sombre, restrained. “On the touching of his lips, I may melt, and no more be seen. O, come, be buried a second time within these arms.”

With a soft gasp, Harrison shyly admitted, “I have no idea what any of that meant.”

“Then let me show you.”

Towering like a tsunami, Cameron crashed their mouths together. If not even the Bard could get through to him, then maybe this would. He prayed to whatever god remained that hadn’t yet fucked him over, to wash away every speck of doubt and make Harrison finally see that he could be trusted. When Harrison chased, Cameron rewarded him tenfold, drinking in any drop of affection like a man parched. When there was no more left to give, Harrison gently pushed him away, struggling to catch his breath.

Cameron crooked his eyebrow. “Smooth?”

“One of your better efforts,” Harrison rasped.

Falling back into bed, Cameron wrapped him up, more secure than any sailor’s knot as they continued, even as sleep tried to drag them apart. Slowly, reluctantly, Harrison’s heavy lids lost the fight. There was something sweetly innocent about how Harrison’s lips continued to slur against him, as his body had somehow managed to detach itself from his pleasure-soaked brain and carry on without him. Staring into those deep ocean blues that haunted his dreams and carried him through his days, Cameron had a terrible idea.  

His tongue tested out the words around his mouth, rolling them around until he knew their taste intimately. What if he finally told Harrison that he loved him?

It sounded so easy when Harrison said it, and so meaningless when his Aunt Jeanie insisted his mother had loved him. It shouldn’t be this hard. So what if he knew nothing about Harrison, or why he had been acting so strangely recently? Cameron wasn’t even sure what question he thought it was the answer to, but if there was just a sliver of a chance that things could go back to the way they were, he would seize it in an instant. Before he could take that leap, Harrison re-energised himself, delving his tongue between his now swollen, wine-blushed lips and swallowing them with a final, soul-consuming kiss. When they finally broke away for air, Harrison lingered in case he tried to say those three words again, but Cameron couldn’t remember where he had left them. Or, frankly, where any of his thoughts had gone.

In their place was just a memory, playing on a loop. Harrison at the beach, the wind at his feet, the sun bending to meet him. An earthquake pushing them together. “I love earthquakes”. He grinned. It looked like he was staring straight at him through the memory. “Reminds me of paddle boarding on land”. Cameron couldn’t remember the last time Harrison said anything so goofy or carefree.

The selkie never went back to sleep. He could hear Cam thinking as he, too, pretended to drift off with Harrison locked securely in his arms. But a long day loomed ahead of him. With each thud, Cameron's racing heart slowly relaxed under the comforting weight of his partner’s protective hand, while his sharp breathing eased into a dull, rhythmic metronome. To Harrison, it sounded like a countdown. When he knew for sure that Cameron was asleep, he gave himself over to the ebb and flow of his boyfriend’s chest and anchored himself there for as long as he could.

Whether Harrison wanted it to or not, morning came anyway. As Cameron stirred, Harrison squeezed his eyes shut. Not that he believed he did it, but apparently, he was a terrible snorer, so he mimicked Cameron (who also denied it) and let him go about his morning routine none the wiser. When Cam left to use Ethan’s bathroom, Harrison buried his face into his boyfriend’s pillow, inhaling his minty shampoo and sterile aftershave until he took up residence in every nook and cranny of his body. While Cameron made the coffee for once, a quiet domesticity fitting him better than he ever thought possible, Harrison burrowed under the sheets. Feigning sleep for just a few more precious minutes. He lay there, suspended in time, where everything was okay and how it should have been. Radiohead played. The kettle whistled. He felt a kiss pressed into his shoulder through the duvet. Harrison knew he would always remember the spot.

Refusing to allow him any more borrowed time, the alarm blared. The light from the window pierced his vision, jabbing at him like his younger sister used to do when he spent too long huddled up on the luscious sandy beaches of Hawaii. Because of her, Harrison had first discovered his love of music as they followed party boats across the silver shores or watched the reckless college kids dance by the bonfires. It had been about the only thing that had kept him going on his long years away, his youthful appearance belying his fifty rotations around the sun. He had sworn to Cameron that every time he heard Slowdive or Japanese Breakfast, he was back with his family, if just for a few minutes. He wondered if they would like the name ‘Harrison Knott’. If his sister would hum it with the same tilting lilt of his birth name. Not for the first time, he wished he had been brave enough to tell Cameron his real name, if just to hear how it would sound falling from his lips in song.

As Cameron finished his cereal, Harrison asked if he could make him a mixtape to listen to while he was away. Cam nearly choked on his cornflakes. “Sure thing, grandpa”, he laughed.

A day later, the cassette peeked out of his back pocket, playing lowly on the portable cassette player that Cam got him as a present. Trying to keep busy, Harrison helped Tova plate up the eggs and bacon she had kindly made. The fact that they had been so delicious was just another weight around his neck as he struggled to keep Cameron’s face from his mind. Tova must have noticed; she talked incessantly while Harrison nodded along, little ‘uh-huhs’ meeting every silence, just as Cameron would do.

But no matter how hard he scrubbed the dishes or wiped the table, he couldn’t forget the glimmering hope in his love’s eyes as he left for Seattle. Nor could he ever forgive himself for the quiet look of loneliness from the day before. After all those incredible months together, Harrison had just stood by and watched as Cameron drove off, their shared abode diminishing into a tiny spot on the horizon. 

He had gone. And by the time he returned, Harrison would be too.

For the umpteenth time that day, Harrison wondered if he was truly capable of this. If this really were the kind of man he was. But the answer was always the same: he wasn’t a man at all. He knew if he didn’t leave now, he would never return home, no matter how much he fought against it. There was no selkie without the ocean, it was simply ingrained into his very DNA. But with each passing second, these wonderful creatures, who had opened their doors to him, embedded themselves into his being just as deeply. There was no Harrison Knott without them.  

However, the legends of his people were clear on one thing: no human would let a selkie leave once they knew their secret. Then there would be no Harrison or selkie left to choose between. He placed what meagre possessions he had into his pockets and slipped out of the door without a word.

Unable to say it face to face, Harrison said goodbye to the people of this town in the only way he knew how: with tiny acts of service. He showed his appreciation to his old manager, Ethan, with a deep clean of the shop. Using circular motions and lemon and vinegar to bring it up to even the cleaning lady’s impossible standard. When Tova left the house, he rushed inside. He followed what Cameron had shown him, fixing the rickety steps and changing the loose door hinges, all to keep her father’s cherished home a haven for years to come. He gave his thanks to Avery with a handmade model T. Rex riding a paddleboard. It was dumb, poorly glued together, and completely and utterly him, right down to the jagged, painted-on grin. He had made it from the same driftwood and empty water bottles they had recycled on their long walks on the beach when she first befriended him.

And for Cameron… Well, for him, he just left a note at their favourite hangout spot, overlooking the town. Here, they watched the world pass by as they listened to music and simply existed together, as though there was no before and no worries of what came after. Time stopped as he took in Sowell Bay for the last time.

To Harrison, the sparkling ocean panorama now held just as much significance as the old record store that knew them both by name, and Mr Ewing’s bakery, that always had a slice of gooseberry pie stashed under the counter just for him. Harrison would never forget the smell of the ancient pines that surrounded Tova’s house, or the shop that took Harrison in when he didn’t even own the shirt off his back. The bright blue aquarium shone brighter in the summer sun than any lighthouse, returning Harrison home even when he no longer thought he had one. 

Harrison hoped he had learned enough of human intricacies to know how to convey just how sorry he was. And just how much he loved him. To make sure it didn’t float away with the wind, he weighed the note down with a cassette recording he had stealthily made of Cameron’s nighttime singing.

When he was done, Harrison walked the length and breadth of the town, down to the aquarium. He didn’t say goodbye to Marcellus. He knew it had to be something more final than that. 

However, Marcellus wasn’t quite through with him. Instead, the elderly octopus told Harrison ‌how he had finally figured out the connection between the cleaning lady and the juvenile. That his surname matched the one she knew as her son’s mysterious, secret girlfriend. Harrison was dumbfounded. How could humans be so blind and obstinate and still complain that he was the awkward one? Nonetheless, he was ecstatic for them. All those months of searching for his father, only to find out that what Cameron needed, what Harrison intuitively knew he wanted most of all, had been right next to him the whole time.

But then, who was this Simon Brinks that Cameron had gone to shake down? Harrison’s secrets had already caused so much pain. To add to it again would be unbearable. But if he told Cameron he had found his family, and then, in the next breath, left him forever… How could he break his heart so immediately after he had fixed it? 

Before he could decide, he heard the squeaky wheels of the cleaning trolley stroll down the corridor, the creak of Tova’s fracture boot dragging close behind. Harrison whipped around. This was the perfect opportunity to make everything right. But as she got closer, his nerve failed him. He quietly ran to the nearest door and locked it behind him with a soft click, trapping himself in… the manager’s office. A dead end. Shit.

Unfortunately for him, Tova was nothing if not thorough. Hours passed. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, heavy feet stampeded through the corridor. He knew those squeaky trainers anywhere. It was Cameron. And God, he had never heard him so pissed off.

“I was completely out of my mind! That Simon Brinks guy - he’s not even my real dad. Just my mom’s gay best friend-”

Harrison shrank into himself, back pushed against the wall to reinforce its defence. Every verbal jab at his grandmother made him flinch. Sweet Tova, taking his biting, seething words as proxy while he remained motionless. Harrison forced himself to listen. Faintly, he heard the soft ‘plop’ of Cameron throwing his father’s ring into the water.

“He’s fucking gone, Tova! Don’t you get it? I leave for one day, and he’s out of here-”. Tova tried to protest, but he cut her off with a snap. “Do you think this is how I want to spend the rest of my life? Scrubbing fish tanks and cleaning gum off the floor? Waiting for some guy not to ghost me every time things get serious? I’m done, Tova. I’m out.”

The fighting continued well into the parking lot. What had he done? Harrison didn’t remember when he slid to the floor, but he sat with his knees hugged against his chest until the pounding in his head died down. His ear to the door, he listened for anyone returning. When no sound came, he carefully wedged it open. Expecting the place to be deserted, a frail, drying Marcellus immediately greeted him, sending him recoiling back. 

Long tentacles moved as organised chaos, four arms pushing, four arms pulling himself along the slippery floor and towards the dreaded eel tank. With a limp tendril, he pointed to the encircling fish, their sharp teeth glimmering like knives ready to feast. Marcellus’s whole body pulsed sharply with anger, the thin slits of his strangely human-like eyes narrowing imperceptibly.

“Don’t give me that look, it’s not like that!” Harrison hissed. “You don’t understand. I don’t belong here; I belong out there.”

Of course, Marcellus did understand. Harrison felt like a naughty pup as the octopus left him behind, tired, weighty limbs clawing up the side of the tank without a second withering look. The glass groaned. Barely able to carry his hefty body, sheer stubbornness inched him ever closer to the top of the glass and into the eels’ eager, hungry maws. 

“Oh no, no no no. Marcellus! What do you think you’re doing? Get down from there!” he ordered. Harrison heard his father in him, echoes of ill-advised ventures to beach concerts with his sister and the punitive diet of anchovies that followed. Evidently, he never inherited his authority as the octopus slapped away his attempts to reach up and grab him.

If staying in Sowell Bay felt like an impossible choice, then leaving Marcellus in danger was no choice at all. Terrified someone would walk in on them at any second, Harrison sprang into action. He pleaded with the eels in a hushed, frantic whisper to let Marcellus take the ring in exchange for a selkie’s ransom of herrings if they backed off. As tempting as a giant Pacific octopus was, he did look rather old and leathery at this point. Their snouts pointed towards the pump room where the scallops were kept. Harrison sighed and agreed, shaking his hand with the air as humans are wont to do. For such a delectable offer, they bobbed their heads in agreement. Whether they did or not, it wouldn’t have mattered. Marcellus was going in anyway. The eels kept up their end of the bargain, and the octopus made his escape and held the ring aloft, triumphant. It read simply: ‘EELS’.

With just a hint of pride, Harrison recognised it as that ‘irony’ Cameron was so fond of.

The octopus threw him the ring. “Shit, Marcellus. Don’t you ever scare me like that again, buddy.”  

“Harrison… What is this?”

He swerved on his heel towards the intruder. Face to face with Tova. 

Not her. Anyone but her.

She looked confused, bordering on petrified. Had she heard him speaking to the eels? He tried to explain himself, but Tova’s concern quickly moved to the paling octopus who eased himself down the tank and onto Harrison’s shoulder like a pirate’s trusty parrot. His arms encircled Harrison’s and squeezed.

“Ms Sullivan! Um, Marcellus and I-I… You see, we were just… Thought he could do with a walk, ya know?” he feebly chanced. He had never got the hang of this lying business. 

However, a single tentacle then brushed against his forehead. Gentle, teasing. They conversed with just their eyes, a glance to the trembling woman, and then the ring… Obviously, Marcellus wanted him to give it to her, but as Harrison saw his contracted breathing slow, he had another idea.

“Harrison Knott”, she scolded. “You had us worried sick! First, you disappear, then you take up octopus-knapping. What has gotten into you?”

Harrison raised his hands in self-defence. “Nothing! It’s like you said. I was octopus-knapping.”

Tova gripped her broom tighter in response.

“No! No! What I meant to say is, this isn’t an octopus-knapping. It’s an… octopus-rescuing?”

Thinking of the kids' book on manners that he had borrowed from the library and hid inside prestigious medical journals, he tried to remember how he was supposed to stand to appear honest. Back straight? Check. Smiling? Impossible. It wasn’t a lie per se, but Cameron had taught him a thing or two about stretching the truth. “I wanted to come and say goodbye to this place. It’s been a second home to me, ya know? And then when I got here, our friend was halfway out the door…” He could feel all eight arms tense as one. Harrison’s voice faltered. “Tova, I’m so sorry. I know how much he means to you, and the last thing I want is to get you into trouble. But I can’t let him die in a cage. This isn’t his home”. 

A flicker of suspicion passed over her eyes. More than a flicker of surprise crossed Marcellus’s. But Tova believed him. How could she not when his voice quivered like that? No further argument was required, as, with a tender, understanding sigh of the octopus's name, she let something inside of her go. Marcellus reached out, tracing the memory of the bruises he’d given her. Yet, a moment later, he curled a tendril around her pinky and shook it, mimicking the schoolchildren he had observed from his enclosure. Framed together, his skin looked just as fragile and mottled as hers. 

“So that’s what you want, is it, Marcellus?”

With a firm nod to herself, Tova Sullivan let the tentacle fall away and pressed a small kiss to Harrison’s cheek, tears stubbornly refusing to fall. She really was Cameron’s grandmother.

“Okay then. Let’s kidnap ourselves an octopus, Harrison.”

Together, they placed Marcellus into the cleaning bucket, filled it with salt water and carried him down to the pier. It was surreal to hear a woman who could not truly converse with Marcellus speak so accurately of him, while Harrison was too afraid to say anything at all. The rain did nothing to dampen her resolve. She walked in a trance until they reached the edge, the grim determination and stoic facade she had worn since Erik died slowly cracking under the weight of years and just one Giant Pacific Octopus, whom she had come to call a friend. Tova clasped Harrison to her side, absorbing his strength into her, even as Harrison stood in silent, stunned awe at hers. 

“This is my home. Marcellus”, she affirmed. Both to them and the sky. “I can’t leave here, this is my home.” Despite her oft-cited ‘spunk’, the icy wind swept in across the Bay, piercing straight through to her weary bones, causing her to tremble like a leaf. It hadn’t occurred to Harrison that Tova understood something of his fear. There was nothing Harrison could say. But there should have been. Feeling completely helpless, he instead guided her descent to the cold, hard floor, his arm wrapped around her tighter than even an octopus. If he had to stay a while longer, at least he could be here for her.

Tova held onto the yellow bucket with an iron grip. “I know I have to let you go home. We both know you didn’t want to end up here, but… I’m so glad Terry saved you.” It all caught up with her. She sobbed. “'Cause you saved me.”

Before the tears fell, Harrison enveloped her completely, hooking his chin over the soft, hay-like bed of her hair. They rocked back and forth, two wayward, hurt souls buoying themselves and each other for as long as she needed. The ring burned in his pocket. 

When she was finally ready, they took the bucket between them and tipped it slowly over the edge, letting the contents spill until it took their dear friend with it. 

The ocean jumped to welcome him back. All at once, the water covered him and lifted him back up to say his final farewell. Harrison pushed the lump in his throat back down with a firm gulp, his eyes glittering as the setting sun caught the rise of the rolling waves. 

Hungry seagulls took their spots along the promenade, quirking their heads to the side in keen interest. Harrison shooed them away with a shout too close to a bark for comfort. When they temporarily retreated, he couldn’t help but laugh mirthlessly, “Always gotta draw an audience, hey buddy?”  

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re okay.” Tova soothed. 

Before their very eyes, Marcellus’s body fanned out against the inky black depths of the tide. After all these years, he once again lived up to the ‘Giant’ part of his title. He mirrored the pictures of the Milky Way that Harrison had beheld at the observatory on his first date in the city. He never knew such a thing existed, yet its earthly counterpart was just as miraculous. His arms floated away from his body like the ephemeral tendrils of a vibrant, distant nebula, carried by the currents that swaddled his limbs in their own intimate caress. The shifting texture of his skin created its own glittering tapestry of constellations that imploded and renewed itself with every free breath he took. 

Somehow, he looked even more resplendent than ever. He shifted through all the colours of the rainbow. An oil slick of metallic ores overlay with iridescent jewels and flowery reds and sunset pinks. Not trying to camouflage himself, but to reacquaint his whole being with the entire spectrum of possibilities that he thought were long since lost to him.

He was incredible. Radiant. Otherworldly. To Harrison, he simply looked like how he remembered every fathom of the ocean. Marcellus was the only one who understood what Harrison was going through, what he had lost. Or so he thought. Looking to see if Tova was alright, he found her staring straight back at him. A knowing, motherly concern he had not felt warm his face in years.

“It’s okay”, she repeated.

He didn’t realise Tova had been speaking to him. Braving another glance, Harrison could barely make out his companion amongst the washed-out hues and smudges where her features used to be. When had he started crying?.  

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. They knelt together, watching yet another piece of their lives depart for good. Coming to the edge, they both held Marcellus’s tentacles in their last farewell. 

“See, selkie?” his friend said. The octopus brought their hands together in an unbreakable bond. “They will understand. They will not keep you prisoner.”

It wasn’t often that Marcellus was an octopus of few words, but Harrison heard them loud and clear. As Marcellus liked to always remind him, he had rather a habit of being right in the end. It didn’t mean that Harrison’s heart believed them, but there was something in what he saw in Tova’s watery smile that felt even more real to him than thousands of years of his people’s wisdom. They sat together in silence as the octopus released its grip. Despite what lay ahead, Harrison thought he had never looked so alive. They said their goodbye as Marcellus drifted down with the tide and finally returned home.

And for as much as Harrison wanted to do the same, he stayed by Tova's side.

Sowell Bay was beautiful at this time of evening. All human life slowed down to a rhythmic hum, punctuated by nature as it once again reasserted its ancient right to the bay. The gulls grew bored with their wait and dispersed across the shore, squawking their annoyance upon the pair for letting such a rare delicacy go to waste. Harrison hated gulls. Pesky, noisy creatures. Always trying to swoop in and steal his hard-earned fish, or disturb his sleep with senseless chatter and a quick peck on his back to see if any juicy, blubbery morsel of him was about to fall off. Goodness, Cameron was right. He really had spent too much time with Marcellus.

For Harrison, gulls were easy to tell apart. They were all distinctly annoying, each in their own unique and invariably loud way, whereas humans looked much the same to the selkie. Still, he remembered the long, rainy days spent under the tarps of ragtag fishing boats, watching a woman sit by herself on this very bench. She looked as Tova did now. Same far-off gaze which made Harrison think she was somehow staring right at him, when really she was looking at nothing at all. Nothing that was still there, anyway. He often wondered what her story was. 

On days when she stayed past her normally allotted time, he would swim up to the pier and bob his head like a whack-a-mole doll, playfully barking like those curious dogs that collectively seemed so taken by his scent. If that failed to win a smile, then he would bounce clumsily up the dilapidated stairs and roll to her feet. It rarely took more than an inviting pat to his tummy or a boop to her foot to bring her back to earth. How strange it was to sit next to her now. To know her name and to possess the very thing that would bring her some semblance of peace. 

For years, Harrison had wanted to reach out and comfort her. Now that he had his chance, he didn’t know what to say, so he said very little. Everything was so much easier without complex vocal cords. Tova hugged his arm, the occasional story of their friend the only break away from his thoughts. She didn’t mention Cameron, but Harrison knew that grip on his arm would not loosen until one of them did so.

Just as he was finally beginning to formulate a grand explanation (one mostly stolen from Ethan’s rom-coms), a familiar voice rose from behind them.

They both turned at the shout of ‘Tova!’ as Cameron barrelled down the docks. Catching sight of Harrison, Cameron paused for just a fraction of a second. A brief flicker of hope soon segued into something bitter as he kept his eyes focused solely on Tova.

Ms Sullivan beamed. “You came back”, she said.

Cam's utterance of ‘Well, there is a right way and a wrong way to do things’ wasn’t subtle, but it certainly made him feel better. While the unknowing family embraced, Harrison ran his hand over his jaw and looked out over the horizon.

“Where’s Marcellus?” Cameron asked Tova. “I tried to find him everywhere...”

“We let him go home…” she explained. Harrison pricked up his ears.

Cameron’s whole body seemed to deflate as the words hung in the open air, waiting for him to catch up. The floorboards creaked as his weight shifted, lurching towards the back of the bench for support, but he caught himself mid-act. It would put him too close to Harrison.

“Oh, wow”, Cameron murmured. His voice lilted upwards, “That’s… That’s good, right?”

There was that telltale melancholia that Marcellus had diagnosed in the selkie. The feeling grew even stronger when Cameron’s eyes flicked towards Harrison when he said that he would miss him. As much as he wanted the sea to swallow him whole, Harrison couldn’t risk letting Marcellus’s last, precious gift go to waste. 

Clearing his throat, he held out the ring between them. He looked every bit the unsure, boyish stranger who had first held up his money at the aquarium, hoping Cameron would know what to do with it.

“Um, Marcellus had this on his arm when I found him. I think it's yours-” It felt forbidden to say Cameron’s name now, but after a pause and a hard nudge from Tova, he took the ring and examined it.

He side-eyed him as if he were part of a massive, practical joke. “H-How did you get this? I threw it in the tank.”

Harrison just smiled shyly as he admitted his lie to Tova, “Marcellus retrieved it. It’s your father’s, right?”

“Yeah, but why-”

Before he could blurt out his fifty obvious questions to his insane remark, Tova jumped in, asking to take a look. Her voice barely registered over the quiet to-and-fro of the water as she held it in her palm, and before either man knew it, she gasped. Trembling fingers held onto Cam’s sleeve for dear life, dragging him down onto the bench with her. 

She reminded Harrison so dearly of how his mother had gazed lovingly at his newborn baby sister. Hushed reverence and rapturous joy, swelling into a single, disbelieving laugh that warmed the air around them like a fire that would never go out. Cameron’s eyes, so much like his father’s, held her captive. Spellbound. Growing more and more certain with each passing second that she had been completely and wondrously mistaken. Her home was sitting right in front of her.

The realisation crept up on her grandson gradually. A slow mirror of everything Tova felt breaking through his tired, worn-down defence, softening his furrowed brow and deepening her laugh lines until they met in the middle. Easing the strain in her shoulders, and making his straighten. Even down to their feet they matched, hers thrumming against the ground in excitement, and his slowing as though they were growing roots. So that’s the pattern you saw, Marcellus. 

Cameron didn’t feel Harrison get up or see him walk away. But as Cameron’s eyes met Tova’s, Harrison saw it. The moment the final piece clicked into place.

Despite how momentous it was, it filled only a fraction of a second. A subtle shift in Cameron's face. Gone and stolen into the night as quickly as it appeared, but caught forever in Harrison's memories. It shone brighter than the full moon.

 If Harrison felt like an intruder before, now he felt every one of his years at sea as Cameron and Tova sat on the bench and she explained how ‘EELS’ had been her son’s initials. His Father’s. Their tears had not been his to witness, not with his attempt to leave them all behind without so much as an explanation. Hell, even an imprisoned octopus had managed to make something of their final moments together. Instead, Harrison rested against the lamppost and looked to the sky, unsure if it was polite to go or to stay. He wasn’t used to feeling socially anxious or embarrassed, even though so many people had insisted he should. In his defence, he doubted even the wisest of humans would know what to do in his situation. Normally, he would just ask Cameron. But then the low susurrus of chatter and tears died down, and Cameron’s unsteady voice reached out. 

“Hey, can… can we talk?

Harrison nodded. He owed him that much. They walked back to the aquarium, Cameron with his arm around his new grandmother, and Harrison with his hands deep within his pockets, head hung so low it looked like he was being sent to the firing squad. At least Tova and Cameron could look after each other now. It was silly of him to think he would leave a hole in their lives, not when he never belonged here. Still, as they weaved past the fish who grew excited to see him and towards the break room, Marcellus’s words replayed in his mind.

“Look!” Tova interrupted. “He wrote something.”

Pointing towards the now-empty Octopus tank, Cameron cursed his amazement under his breath, but Harrison’s blood ran cold. What had Marcellus done?

“You think it’s a message?” asked Cam.

Written in the sand was one simple word: Harrison’s true name. The one of his pod descended from Scandinavia. He must have written it before going to get the ring from the eels. No! No! No! No!

For a second, Harrison was back in his nightmare. Pounding against the glass. Drowning.

Only Marcellus knew it this side of the Pacific. Harrison should have seen this coming, of course, that interfering know-it-all had tried to make that decision for him. Harrison didn’t dare turn to Tova, hoping that she had left Europe at too young an age to have ever learnt much of her country and its legends. But they both knew you never forgot your home. The cogs turned in her mind, faster than Harrison assumed possible. Maybe she really had caught him talking to the eels. Maybe she suspected it all along.

Half in wonderment, half in familial pride, Tova smiled at him, clasping her hand to her breast. After years of numbing herself to the emotion, now her voice ran ragged with it. “So that’s why you’re so special, or part of it, anyway. Oh, sweetheart, is that why you ran away?”

“Please, Ms. Sullivan…” Harrison begged, refusing to look at the man he still loved. “Don’t…”

Cameron tightened his arm around her shoulder in panic. “Don’t what? Tova, what are you talking about?”

“It’s nothing”, Harrison snapped.

Worry turned indignant, teeth grinding out each word as though they wanted to spit out much worse. “Yeah, you said that for the last five months. So spill.”

“No!” Harrison suddenly shouted, startling himself. He tried to calm down, hating himself for the way they winced, but he couldn’t stop it. He felt trapped. “No- Just... no. There’s no point; it’s just a misunderstanding. That’s all. You got your ring, that’s all that matters. Not…” He gesticulated lamely towards the tank, speaking with his hands when once again his grasp on human language slipped. 

It didn’t work. Cam’s face twisted sourly. “Not what? You? Us?” 

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Tova tightened her grip on Cam’s jacket. “Do I? Because it sure fucking feels like it.”

“Boys! Stop,” Tova shouted. She had heard enough.

She stared them both down until whatever response they had died in their throats. It was only then that Cameron realised how fast his heart was beating. Anger and hurt cracked along his veins like a live wire, trying to spark another fight, another jab, anything that would dull his pain. Normally, he would make a joke of it. Force the other person to become just as uncomfortable as he was to get one over on t‌hem. But the blood rushing in his head was too loud to think of one. He wanted to shout again, to let it all out so that he could know for sure if Harrison was hurting like he was. If he mattered enough to someone that leaving him was actually difficult for once.

But… He couldn’t, not when Harrison, normally so much larger than life, started to shrink into himself. Unsure what to do, Cameron did what his grandmother's hard gaze commanded and breathed in deeply until he could think again. Fuck, what a shitshow.

For Harrison, he really had tried to be better. To provide and be there for him. All for it to lead to this.

“Just tell me”, Cameron said, doing his utmost to keep his voice level. “Did I do something wrong?”

Harrison blinked, like he was unsure whether to trust this sudden truce. “No. No, you did nothing wrong. It was always amazing. You were always amazing,” he weakly smiled. “Hell, I wish you had done something wrong. Would have made this easier.”

Cameron tried to mirror his grin, but there was something still gnawing away at him. He knew perfectly well why he hadn’t pressed when Harrison looked so distracted yesterday morning. Or any of the mornings before that. He had been too afraid of Harrison’s answer. Even now that they were over, he was allowing himself to be drawn into Harrison’s easy smile and drop it again. However, he hadn’t driven all the way back to Sowell Bay to remain the old Cameron Cassmore. 

He hugged Tova’s imperceptibly closer, not even realising he was doing it. 

“Harrison”, he gently uttered his name again. “Come on, man. You’re scaring me. You don’t talk to me. You’ve been pretending like everything’s fine for ages now, but I know something’s up. And then you leave with just a note telling me...” He bit his tongue and sadly sighed. Fuck, why did this have to be so hard?

A harsh, ruddy blush bloomed across Harrison’s cheeks as he mistook Cameron’s hesitance for embarrassment about what he had poured his heart and soul into. It was the same face Cameron often made in their first few weeks together. When Harrison forgot that such a thing as an ‘inside voice’ existed, when he complimented random strangers on their excellent walking skills or the multitude of times that he nearly got hit by a car when he once again forgot to look both ways. But Cameron wasn’t ashamed of what he had written, and definitely not of Harrison himself. Never of him. 

Tova stroked Cameron’s arm. He continued on, his voice gaining strength even as it cracked, as finally, finally, he let it out. “I looked everywhere for you. God, man. I thought maybe something awful had happened. You have no idea what that did to me. And then, not even a few hours later, I find you at the pier with my father’s ring, saying an octopus gave it to you, and you still won’t tell me what’s going on. You realise how insane this all is, right?”

Despite his best attempt, Harrison didn’t budge. “I know. I know. Please, Cameron. I don’t want to fight with you.” 

“But you're okay with running away and leaving me.” It wasn’t a question, not in the cold, objective way it came out.

There was that tiny, yipping pup again, looking as abandoned and hurt as Harrison had imagined him when Cameron first told him of how his mom dumped him with her sister, never to be seen again. 

What could Harrison ever say to that? “I’m sorry…” he whispered.

It landed as well as he expected, but Cameron didn’t look as angry as he feared. Just… resigned. “So you wrote. Was hoping I deserved something more than that.” 

“You do. It’s just something I have to do on my own.”

They fell silent in an awkward standoff, the only movement a twist of Harrison’s foot as his body warred with his heart on whether to stay or run away once again. It was as Cameron was about to argue back that he suddenly noticed there was something off. Everything was too still, even the fish that normally whipped themselves into a frenzy every time their favourite customer appeared. Cam just assumed they were just pissed that none of them had come to feed them.

And yet, despite the uncanny air, by his side, his grandmother somehow relaxed. She escaped Cameron’s hold, slicker than any eel or octopus. Some of the fish seemed to eye her cautiously as she smoothed Harrison’s shirt out and brushed his wayward hair from his brow, taking in every inch of him as though for the very first time. He leaned into her touch, even as her nails bordered on painful as she held him by the biceps. “I won’t tell anyone, Harrison, not if you don’t want me to, but please. Let us help you.” 

They won't keep you prisoner.

Harrison’s body worked without conscious thought, bringing her head into his chest and embracing her. She felt so small in his arms, but so much bigger in his heart. For years, he had wanted to console her on the pier, and now here she was, doing it for him. “I’m sorry”, he weakly said again. Tiny, wet drops fell upon her crown as he kept repeating himself, his chin quaking as he tried to control it. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Now, now, dear. We’ll have none of that. You’ll make the floor slippery”, she sweetly chided, tapping his sternum like she used to pat his head as a seal. Did she remember him after all? Harrison tried to do as she asked, but his breath kept wringing his muscles out in a sob. What was he doing? Wrenching himself away from them felt like cleaving himself in two. But it wasn’t fair to give them only half of himself any longer. 

Before he could regain control of himself, Cameron appeared and placed a steady hand on his shoulder, smiling softly. Harrison saw the unshed tears lace his lashes. “Hey, shake like that anymore, and people are gonna think there’s an earthquake. Or you’re paddle boarding on land.”

Harrison barked out a sudden laugh. It took him a moment to recognise it as his own. “T-Thought you hated that joke.”

He winked. “You make it work.”

They just stared at each other, no longer awkward, but soaking in the moment while they could, committing it to memory. A thousand proclamations and confessions dancing on their tongues, however, Cameron didn’t want their final moments together to be a desperate plea for him to stay, like so many of his relationships before. Hearing Harrison's sweet laugh again gave him a new priority. “You’ve given me so much…” Cam choked on what felt like a sob, but looking down at Tova gave him the confidence he needed. “Not to mention this-" he said as he put his arm around her shoulder easily, as though his body had already memorised her shape. “My old lady’s right, let us help you. Whatever you need… I just want to see you happy again.”

What was it that Ethan called it? A Catch-22. ‘Damned if you do, completely fucked if you don’t’, he had laughed over his fourth glass of expensive scotch when he regaled Harrison with the sordid details of his ex. Harrison couldn’t trust them if they didn't know the truth, but centuries of tradition told him he shouldn't trust them if they did. He couldn’t find his skin without leaving, yet he couldn't leave them now. And he loved too selfishly to face the possibility of life on land alone, but too wholeheartedly to continue to hurt the one who had unwittingly captured it.

It seemed like there was no choice he could make. That there had never been one from the start. But he remembered how Tova had helped him free Marcellus. How genuinely happy for him Cameron had sounded, and how certain he was now. So he made one anyway.

He sniffed back the tears, and with a kiss to Tova’s hair, he decided to put his faith in his old friend, hoping he really did know it all.

Harrison wondered if any of his kind had been as stupid and as foolhardy as he was about to be. If not, at least his sister could gloat that she was right about him all along. He prayed to the two humans before him that he would see her again. 

“C-Come with me. Let me show you something.”

His phone buzzed.

Not unusual.

You texted him throughout the day.

Sometimes it was something funny Wesley had said. Sometimes it was a picture of a weird bug you'd found outside. Sometimes it was a complaint about the grocery store being out of something. Sometimes it was absolutely nothing important at all.

Rhett didn't always answer right away. Half the time, he couldn't. But he always looked.

Pulling the phone from his pocket, he unlocked it. Several messages sat waiting for him.

The latest one had arrived only a minute ago.

Darlin': heyyyyyy wanna see something cute?

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth immediately.

Rhett: course

The response came almost instantly.

A photo loaded.

Rhett stared at it.

Then barked out a laugh. A real one. The kind that startled him a little.

The snakes were somehow wearing a tube sock.

Well. Sharing a tube sock.

The toe had clearly been cut off. Two little heads poked out one end while the rest of their bodies disappeared into the fabric. The whole thing looked ridiculous.

Like the world's worst sweater. Or the world's most confusing caterpillar.

Another text appeared.

Darlin': they wanted matching outfits :D

Rhett shook his head.

Rhett: snakes don't want outfits

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Darlin': tell them that

A second picture arrived. This one was somehow worse. Or better.

He couldn't decide.

Earle's head was sticking out farther this time, while Natalie looked halfway offended by the entire arrangement.

Rhett: yall are weird

The answer came back immediately.

Darlin': you love usssssss ❤️

Rhett snorted.

Then looked at the first picture again. And the second.

He zoomed in. Shook his head. Smiled despite himself.

You and Wesley had somehow convinced yourselves that the snakes needed clothes.

Which was insane. Completely insane.

The kind of thing that made perfect sense only to the two of you.

His thumb lingered on the screen.

A moment later, both pictures disappeared into his camera roll.

No announcement. No message. No reason to tell you. Just saved.

He locked the phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

Then he pushed away from the truck and headed back toward the fence line.

Still smiling.

—

By the time Rhett finally finished for the day, the sun had started its slow descent toward the horizon.

The worst of the heat had passed, but not by much.

His shoulders ached. His hands were dirty. His shirt was damp with sweat and dust.

And all he wanted was a shower.

Well…

A shower and you.

The drive across town was familiar enough now that he barely thought about it.

A right turn here. A stop sign there. The gas station on the corner. The little Mexican restaurant that Wesley insisted had the best tacos in Arizona.

Home. Not technically his. The apartment he rented was on the other side of town. But this place felt more like home than that ever had.

The moment he pulled into the driveway, he spotted your car. No sign of Wesley's.

Interesting…

Rhett climbed out of the truck and made his way toward the front door.

He barely got it open before hearing movement deeper inside the house. Then you appeared.

A smile immediately spreading across your face.

"Hey!"

"Hey."

The greeting was simple. Comfortable. Familiar.

Rhett stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. Just enough to make both of you smile a little more afterward.

"How was work?"

"Hot."

You laughed.

"Insightful."

"I try."

His hands settled briefly on your hips before dropping away again.

"Wes home?"

You shook your head.

"Ran to the pet store."

Rhett narrowed his eyes.

"For what?"

"I don't know."

"That's concerning."

"It probably should be."

A pause.

Then you continued, "He said not to ask questions."

Rhett groaned.

"That's worse."

"It is."

You laughed as he stepped around you and headed toward the hallway.

"I'm showering."

"Good plan."

"I smell like a farm."

"You kinda do."

Rhett pointed at you without looking back.

"Rude."

"You love me!!!"

The response came automatically.

"Yeah, yeah..."

A few minutes later, hot water washed away the day. Dust disappeared down the drain. The ache in his muscles eased. The smell of hay, dirt, and sweat finally vanished.

By the time he emerged from the bathroom, a towel draped around his neck, the day felt farther away.

Quieter. Softer. The house was calm.

No Wesley. No work. No responsibilities waiting for him.

Just the low hum of the air conditioner and the knowledge that you were somewhere nearby.

Exactly where Rhett wanted to be.

The bedroom was cool in a way the rest of Arizona never seemed capable of being.

The air conditioner hummed softly somewhere in the house. The ceiling fan turned lazily overhead. The curtains were mostly drawn against the evening sun, leaving the room washed in muted gold and shadow.

You were propped against the headboard with a book open in your lap.

An oversized shirt hung off one shoulder. The shorts you were wearing were barely visible beneath it. One leg stretched out across the mattress while the other remained bent beneath the blanket. 

Earle rested comfortably on your chest. His body was loosely coiled, head tucked against the fabric of your shirt as if he'd personally decided this was the best place in the house to spend his evening.

You turned a page. Earle didn't move.

A few minutes later, Rhett wandered into the room. Fresh from the shower. Hair still damp. A clean pair of sweatpants hangs low on his hips. The scent of soap followed him into the room.

He paused long enough to glance at what you were reading.

"Good book?"

You hummed.

"Pretty good."

That seemed to satisfy him.

Rhett climbed into bed and immediately stretched out beside you. Face-down. One arm folded beneath the pillow. The other hanging near the edge of the mattress.

The bed shifted beneath his weight. Then settled again.

A long sigh escaped him. Not dramatic. Just tired. The kind of sound somebody made after a long day of work, and finally finding somewhere comfortable to land.

You smiled to yourself and continued reading.

For a while, neither of you spoke. There wasn't any need.

The room filled with small sounds instead. Pages turning. The ceiling fan. The occasional rustle of sheets. The distant hum of the air conditioner. Rhett's breathing slowly evening out beside you.

Every so often, you'd glance over.

His eyes would be closed. Not quite asleep. Close, though.

The kind of exhaustion that came from spending an entire day outside in the heat.

At one point, Earle lifted his head. His tongue flickered. He seemed to study Rhett for a moment. Then settled back down.

You reached up absentmindedly and scratched your fingers through Rhett's damp hair.

The response was immediate. A content grunt. Nothing more.

You smiled again.

The book remained open in your lap. The chapter continued.

Minutes slipped by unnoticed. The sun sank lower. The room grew dimmer.

And somehow, without either of you saying much at all, the day felt finished.

Eventually, the words on the page began to blur together.

Not because the book had gotten boring.

Mostly because your bladder had finally decided it was done waiting.

You slid a bookmark between the pages and closed the book.

The movement earned no reaction from Rhett. At least not visibly.

He was still stretched out on his stomach beside you. One arm folded beneath the pillow. The other draped across the mattress. Hair still damp from his shower. Eyes closed. Breathing slowly and even.

Completely asleep.

Or so you assumed.

Earle remained comfortably coiled on your chest.

You looked down at him. Then around the room. Then back at him.

"Well," you say under your breath.

Earle flicked his tongue.

Not particularly helpful.

You considered putting him back in his enclosure. That seemed excessive. You were only going to be gone for a minute. Maybe two. The snake certainly wasn't going to appreciate being evicted from his warm spot over a bathroom trip.

Your gaze drifted toward Rhett.

Still asleep. Still warm. Still conveniently located.

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.

"Oh, he'll be fine," you say, still under your breath.

Earle offered no objections.

Carefully, you slid the snake from your chest.

Rhett remained motionless.

The mattress shifted slightly beneath your weight.

Nothing.

Still asleep.

You gently lowered Earle onto the broad expanse of bare skin between Rhett's shoulders.

The reaction was immediate.

Not from Rhett.

From Earle.

The snake seemed absolutely delighted by this development. Warm. Comfortable. Large. Perfect.

Within seconds, he adjusted himself into a loose coil. His head settled comfortably against Rhett's back.

Content. Safe. Happy.

You smiled.

"There."

Then you climbed out of bed and disappeared into the bathroom.

The door clicked shut behind you.

Silence.

For approximately three seconds.

Because Rhett Abbott was not asleep.

Not even a little.

The moment Earle had touched his back, every muscle in his body had locked. His eyes opened.

Slowly.

Very slowly.

Staring directly into the pillow.

A snake. 

There was a snake on him.

An actual snake.

On him.

Rhett did not move. Not because he couldn't. Because he wasn't entirely sure what the rules were.

Could he move?

Would that upset the snake?

Would the snake fall?

Would it bite him?

Again?

He didn't know.

So he chose the safest option. Absolute stillness. His fingers tightened beneath the pillow. Every muscle in his shoulders went rigid.

The snake shifted.

Rhett stopped breathing.

Earle settled more comfortably.

Rhett continued not breathing.

The room remained quiet.

The ceiling fan turned overhead. The bathroom faucet ran briefly. Somewhere down the hall, a cabinet opened and closed.

Meanwhile, Rhett lay frozen beneath what was approximately two pounds of pure psychological warfare.

Earle, completely oblivious, appeared to be having a wonderful time. His body tightened into a comfortable coil. His head still rested happily against Rhett's warm skin.

Every so often, his tongue flicked into the air.

Exploring. Relaxing. Thriving.

Rhett stared into the pillow and questioned every decision that had led him to this moment.

The move to Arizona. Dating a woman who kept snakes. Allowing the snakes inside the bedroom. Allowing the snakes names. Allowing the snakes to become family members somehow.

A year ago, he'd been fixing fences in Wyoming.

Now, a snake was using him as furniture.

Life really comes at you fast.

The bathroom door opened.

Rhett's relief was immediate. Not visible. But immediate.

You stepped back into the bedroom, completely unaware of the emotional journey he'd just endured.

Your gaze landed on Earle. Still curled comfortably on Rhett's back. Still apparently convinced he'd found the best seat in the house.

"Aww."

You crossed the room.

Rhett remained perfectly still. The same way a deer might remain perfectly still if a hunter walked past. Or a man who currently had a snake on him.

You leaned over the bed.

"Alrighty, baby. back to mama."

Earle lifted his head. His tongue flickered. Then, without any fuss whatsoever, you slid your hands beneath him and lifted him from Rhett's back.

The weight disappeared instantly.

Just like that. Gone.

The threat had passed.

You settled Earle comfortably against your chest again.

Then turned back toward the bed.

Only to find Rhett sitting upright.

Fast.

Very fast.

Not panicked. But definitely no longer pretending to sleep.

His shoulders were tense. His jaw was tight. And there was a deeply stressed expression on his face.

You blinked.

"What?"

Rhett stared at you. Then at Earle. Then back at you.

You frowned.

"Honey?"

Nothing. Just staring.

The look on his face was so serious that you immediately started wondering if something had happened.

"Rhett, honey. What's wrong?"

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

For a moment, it genuinely looked like he couldn't find the words.

You waited. Concern growing slightly.

Finally, he gestured vaguely toward the bed.

Then toward himself.

Then toward Earle.

Still nothing coherent.

"Honey."

You shifted closer.

"Seriously. What happened?"

Another pause.

Then, finally:

"Snake on my back."

Silence. A breath. Two breaths.

You stared at him. Rhett stared back.

Completely serious. Utterly sincere.

And somehow that made it worse.

The laugh hit you so hard you nearly dropped Earle.

"Oh, my God."

Rhett looked offended immediately.

"I'm serious."

That only made you laugh harder.

The mattress dipped as you collapsed onto the bed beside him.

"You put a snake on me."

The accusation sounded ridiculous. Especially because it was technically true.

"I know."

You were laughing too hard to get the words out properly.

"I know, honey."

"You just—"

Rhett gestured helplessly.

"Left him there."

The image clearly replayed in his mind. You walking away. The door closing. The realization settling in.

A snake. On his back.

For several seconds, neither of you could speak.

One, because you were laughing. The other was because he was still processing the betrayal.

"I thought you were asleep."

"I was not asleep."

"You looked asleep."

"I had my eyes closed."

"That's sleeping behavior."

"It is not."

You laughed again.

Earle remained completely unconcerned by the argument.

His tongue flickered lazily as he rested in your hands.

"Honey, I was only gone like a minute."

"A minute too long."

The response came immediately. Without hesitation. Without thought. Pure conviction.

You rested your chin against Earle's side and laughed so hard your shoulders shook.

Rhett looked personally victimized. Which, in fairness, he believed he had been.

"Snake."

He pointed at Earle. Then at himself.

"On my back."

The fact that he kept repeating it like those four words explained everything, only made you laugh harder.

Eventually, your laughter settled into occasional giggles.

Rhett, meanwhile, still looked deeply unconvinced that any part of this situation had been funny.

You reached up and scratched lightly on top of Earle’s head.

The snake immediately leaned into it.

"See?"

Rhett narrowed his eyes.

"See what?"

"He’s harmless and i know he likes you!"

The response was instantaneous.

"He bit me."

You sighed. Not because you'd never heard this argument before. Because you'd heard it many, many times before.

"Honey."

"He did."

"I know he did."

"He bit me."

You shifted further back against the headboard.

"Earle was scared."

"He bit me."

"He was scared."

"He still bit me."

You looked down at the snake.

The snake looked up at you. The snake, unfortunately, was not helping his case.

"He was stuck and got scared."

"He had teeth."

You laughed.

Rhett remained completely serious.

"Okay."

You adjusted Earle slightly.

"Then what's actually bothering you?"

Rhett blinked.

"What?"

"The snake thing."

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Looked away.

And that was all the answer you needed.

Your smile softened.

"Oh."

A small silence settled between you.

Not uncomfortable.

Just thoughtful.

You watched him for a moment.

Rhett stared at a loose thread on the blanket.

Then, finally sighed.

"It's not really the snake," he said quietly.

"I figured."

Another pause. Then,

"It's Wesley. Oh… what he…"

That got a quick laugh out of you.

Of course it was.

"What's he do now?"

Rhett rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.

"He keeps callin' them your son and daughter."

You immediately smiled.

"Because they are my son and daughter."

"They're snakes."

"They're adorable."

"They're snakes."

You grinned.

Rhett didn't. At least not yet.

Instead, his gaze drifted toward Earle. Then away again. He exhales slowly before speaking.

"I know it's a joke."

You waited.

"But every time he says it..."

He hesitated.

The words were clearly harder to say than he'd expected.

"It catches me off guard."

The smile slipped from your face completely.

Not because you were upset. Because suddenly you understood.

"Oh."

Rhett nodded once.

"I don't want kids."

His voice was quieter now. Almost cautious. Like he wasn't sure how you'd react.

The concern in his expression made something ache in your chest. Because he'd clearly been carrying that around longer than he should have.

"Honey…" You shifted closer. "A snake is not a child." 

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I know."

"Earle is not secretly a toddler."

"I know."

"He's barely smart enough to be a snake."

That earned an actual laugh. Small. But real.

You continued before he could retreat back into his own head.

"I don't want kids either."

The tension left his shoulders so quickly it was almost visible. You hated that he'd worried about that. Even for a second.

"Really."

You nudged his knee with yours.

"Everyone is on the same page."

Rhett nodded.

Listening.

"The snakes are just the snakes."

"Right."

"But Wesley and I call them our kids because they're the closest thing either of us wants."

A smile finally appeared.

Properly this time. Small. Soft. Understanding. The kind that always made your heart squeeze.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"No secret baby agenda?"

You gasped dramatically.

"Damn."

Rhett laughed.

"Thought I'd uncovered a conspiracy."

You leaned your head against his shoulder. Earle remaining comfortably draped across your chest.

The room settled again. Quiet. Easy.

The conversation finished. The concern gone.

For several moments, neither of you spoke.

Then, "Yeah well..."

You already knew from his tone. The argument wasn't actually over.

Rhett glanced down at Earle. Then back at you.

"He still bit me."

You groaned so loudly it made him grin.

"There it is."

"He did."

"It was one time."

"He remembers."

"Earle does not remember."

"He knows what he did."

The snake chose that exact moment to flick his tongue in Rhett's direction.

Rhett pointed immediately.

"See?"

You laughed so hard you nearly dropped your head onto his shoulder.

The heartfelt conversation was over.

The grudge, apparently, would live forever.

"You know," you said, still smiling, "most people forgive things eventually."

Rhett folded his arms.

"Most people don't get bitten."

"Earle was scared."

"He committed a crime."

You laughed.

Rhett looked entirely too pleased with himself.

Earle, meanwhile, remained completely unaware that his reputation was being discussed.

The snake simply rested against your chest, content as could be.

"You are impossible."

"So I've been told."

"Repeatedly."

"By reliable sources?"

"By everybody."

Rhett nodded once.

"Fair."

You shook your head and carefully adjusted Earle.

"Well, I should probably put him away for the night."

Rhett glanced at the snake. The snake glanced back. Neither appeared interested in changing their opinion of the other.

"Probably."

You started to sit up.

"Unless..."

Immediately suspicious, you paused.

"Unless what?"

Rhett's mouth twitched.

"Nothing."

"Rhett."

"Just seems like Earle could stay a little longer."

You narrowed your eyes.

Five seconds ago, he'd been lobbying for the snake's removal.

Now, suddenly, he wanted Earle to stay.

"You're trying to get on his good side now."

"I am not."

"You absolutely are."

Rhett looked toward the ceiling. A sure sign he was guilty.

You laughed.

"There it is."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You never know what I'm talking about."

"Exactly."

Still smiling, you carefully lifted Earle and swung your legs off the bed.

"I'll be right back."

As you stood, Rhett reached out and gave your backside a quick, playful pat.

You yip and immediately pointed at him.

"Behave."

"I am behaving."

"You are not."

His grin said otherwise.

Shaking your head, you carried Earle toward the door. Behind you, Rhett settled back against the headboard, looking entirely too satisfied with himself. Some things, apparently, never changed.

A few minutes later, you pushed the bedroom door open again.

The room was exactly as you'd left it. 

Dim. Cool. Quiet.

Rhett was still sitting against the headboard, one arm draped across his stomach, looking far too comfortable for someone who had spent the last ten minutes arguing with a snake.

His eyes lifted immediately when you walked back in.

"There she is."

You smiled.

"There he is."

"The criminal secured?"

"Earle is safely in bed."

"Good."

You climbed onto the mattress and moved toward him.

Rhett's hands found your waist the second you settled across his lap.

Effortless. Automatic. Like he'd done it a thousand times before.

Maybe he had.

The room fell quiet again.

Not awkward. Never awkward. Just comfortable.

You reached up and ran your fingers through the still-damp hair at the back of his head.

Rhett's eyes drifted shut for a moment.

Content. Tired. Happy.

The tension from the workday seemed long gone now.

Replaced by the simple comfort of being here.

With you.

You smiled softly.

"I love you, Rhett."

His eyes opened again. The answering smile came immediately. Warm and a little crooked.

"I love you too, darlin'."

You leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

Rhett's hand tightened slightly at your waist.

The kiss was unhurried. Gentle. The kind that said everything that mattered without needing a single word.

When you finally pulled back, neither of you moved very far.

Just enough to look at each other. Just enough to smile.

Outside, the Arizona evening settled around the house.

Inside, everything felt quiet. Safe. Home.

And for now, that was more than enough.