You held the coat in your hands and it felt sleek, thick, soft under your fingertips. You had watched it fall from its perch on the back of the chair and it had pooled, silently, near the legs. It looked like such an expensive and well-made fur coat that, surely, you supposed, the owner would've liked it to stay as far away as possible from any dirty surface.
So you had stepped over and picked it up, all in one fluid motion. You had expected it to feel hefty and, though it had a weight to it, the coat was still considerably lighter than other coats that were just as thick. It felt warm too, despite the chill of the air conditioning in the cafĂŠ.
The coat fascinated you enough that you couldn't help but be so aware of every little ounce of detail it held and, yet, you didn't know exactly why.
Still, you noted in your thoughts, standing there with someone else's coat in your hands wasn't exactly normal, even in a port town as odd as yours.
Brushing off your thoughts with a shake of your head, you gripped the coat tighter with one hand and, with the other, you reached over, about to tap this stranger on the shoulder.
Before you could even land your fingers onto his body, he whirled around, his short, styled, dark hair bouncing and flowing like waves crashing against a sharp cliff. You yourself couldn't help but be swept up by his actions and you found yourself just as surprised.
You took a step back just as he stared up at you.
He was beautiful. Handsome, of course, with tilted almond eyes and sharpness to his mouth. Yet, there was a gracefulness about him, something soft and gentle.Â
His eyes, the same ones that looked so wide-eyed at you, were so blue. They looked like a clean ocean with waters so clear that they reflected back the sunlight. Even in such a dimly lit cafĂŠ, his eyes seemed to shimmer.
His skin was tanned and smooth, his chin slightly chiseled, his cheeks a bit rounder, with dark freckles decorating the apples of them and across the bridge of his nose.Â
You felt your heart stop.
âY-You.â The words felt difficult to produce but you managed to clear your throat âYou dropped your coat.â
âRight. Uh, thank you.â His voice held an unfamiliar accent, something gruff and lilting, the vowels rising and falling in such a way that made you want to hear more.
Still, he didnât move to take it from your hands. You wondered why. You guessed that it must be the same reason why there was a hint of apprehension on his expression like he was some sort of beast and you the human that cornered him.Â
Even his posture showed his hesitance; his joints seemed locked and his body stiff as he sat there, arm draped over the back of his chair and his body tilted towards you but not completely facing you.Â
Slowly, you tried to find more words. Part of you, a part you donât quite completely understand, wanted to make him feel some sort of comfortable around you. Another part of you knew he was a stranger, some sort of foreigner with an accent, someone who needed to return home.
Your port town was a tourist destination so it wasnât odd to see so many foreigners, beautiful like him (though, to be honest, he was a kind of beautiful that seemed incomparable to the others).Â
It didnât matter if you wanted to get close to him, to make him comfortable. We would eventually need to leave.
You were then struck by an odd thought. What if you just never gave the coat back? What if you kept it in your hands, maybe hid it, maybe kept it away from him? Would it prevent him from leaving? Would he say long enough for you to make him comfortable, long enough for you to get to know him, to--
You pushed such an irrational thought away and quickly cleared your throat again âIt looked like such a nice coat. Wouldn't want it to get stepped on or anything, right?â
âRight.â He repeated but, this time, there was something in his voice, something that implied that you got it right, that there was more happening than you thought, that you holding his coat wasnât just that.
It made you feel like there was something going on you werenât aware of. Or, maybe, you were just being paranoid.
Even now, he still didnât reach for his coat. He continued to look at you with those wide handsome eyes, watching you and your movements.
You couldnât take it anymore. Suddenly, you pushed the coat into his hands and let go. It landed onto him, draping across his legs and pooling on his lap.Â
You snatched your hand back and you could still feel the ghost of his fingertips, calloused yet soft, on the knuckles of your hand. There was a tingle there, like some sort of electricity, something more than just a mere touch.
The two of you spent a second, just staring at each other like that, coat forgotten, like he felt the electricity too. You couldnât help but wonder if you were just being hopeful or, maybe, you could see it in his eyes. Or, maybe, you wanted to see it in his eyes.
âSorry.â It fell from your lips on instinct and you found yourself backing away, a nervous smile on your face. âYou should really take care of your coat.âÂ
Then, as an afterthought or maybe as a desperate try to get him to start a conversation, you added âItâs really nice and soft. You wouldnât want it to get dirty or stolen, right?âÂ
âRight.â He repeated for the third time and then there was that thick silence again.
You were too awkward, too bumbling, he probably thought you had been weird for just shoving his coat into his arms or maybe for just standing there with his coat for so long. Or, maybe, he was desperate to start a conversation too and, like you, found it difficult.
Either way, you gave a brief nod to him before hastily leaving, heart beating in double time. You cursed your inept social skills and vowed that, if there were to be a next time, you would be better.Â
You doubted, however, that you would get a second chance.Â
She looked beautiful sitting there, sunset casting orange and yellow hues onto her tan skin. She bobbed her head a little as if listening to some silent song, her hair smooth as it swayed back and forth.
He couldn't see her face since she fully faced away from him but he vividly remembered what she looked like, with her big brown doe eyes and the way her lips twitched up in an awkward shy smile, eyes crinkling and round cheeks cute.Â
He could imagine her, eyes shut, smile pulling back into a grin. He could see her, listening to some unknown song, letting herself be immersed in every note, every beat.
His eyes traveled down. Her palms were pressed against the rough wood of the dock and, he noted, all of her fingers were empty. She looked like she was wearing the same outfit as the day they had first met and, he thought, what a coincidence because so was he.
It had been days but there was no way he could forget someone so cute, so beautiful, so kind.
He felt a breeze pass and the waves crashed in time with it. The air was chilly and salty, unsurprising since it was already getting late.
She shivered and the movement didnât go unnoticed. A part of him wanted to hesitate but his coat was already shed and placed onto her shoulders before he could even think.
It was like second nature to him, like it was so normal to have her wrapped up in him, in his precious coat, like it had always been destined to be that way.
When she felt the fur of his coat, her head swiveled, her hair splaying across her shoulders like a waterfall. She stared at him, wide eyed, and he was hypnotized by the how warm she made him feel.Â
He sat down next to her and her confused gaze followed him. He took out a small velveteen box and her eyes flickered to that.
âFor you.â He muttered, voice small, shy, meek, a tone unfamiliar to someone who was usually so brash and confident. She made him feel cautious and careful.
She took the box and, as she did, their fingers touched again, that electricity returning almost tenfold. Unlike before, he let himself be carried away by the emtion and, gignerly, he swept her free hand into his, her palm chilly against his warm clammy one.Â
She flipped the box open with one hand and gasped, her eyes almost impossibly wider and her face entirely much more adorable than before âIsnât... I... Isnât this... an engagement ring?â
He shyly ducked his hea, cheeks feeling much hotter than before âWell... we should get married through human customs as well.â
When she didnât reply, he continued âAt least, I thought... youâd want that.â
â...what?â Her voice raised an octive and, with panicked eyes, she continued to stare up at him.Â
He wondered if her returning his coat had been her sort of rejection, that it was her way of saying she didnât want him, didnât want to keep him.Â
But, she had been so kind and he saw the desire take her thoughts. She saw how her eyes had clouded, how she looked like she wanted to snatch up his coat and never return it ever again.
That was the curse of being someone like him. He was born handsome, in a way that made everyone want to take him captive, and his coat attracted anyone that touched it.
Then, he realised his mistake.
âOh, I mightâve forgotten to mention the whole... selkie thing, havent I?â
