#femii

love me with all of your heart / that's all i want, love / love with me all of your heart / or not at all / and just promise me this / that you'll give me all of your kisses / every winter every summer every fall

The sea has always beckoned him and the land has always beckoned her. Salt bridges the gap, straying from the crashing of waves on the sand, it lingers in the heavy morning fog. A fog that only the beacon of a lighthouse can pierce, guiding souls safely to and from their destination. But it's not the light that draws you in, it's humanity. And it's not the light that keeps you there, it's him. While you were sickly when you first washed ashore, the rough weathered hands of the gentle keeper that nursed and cared for you did more than enough to make you comfortable and give you a second home. But nothing can truly replace the sea.

Months pass by and you still haven't left, though you're at full health once again. You have your seat at his table, a favorite mug and side of the bed. He has the trust of a selkie. Both are invaluable.

He catches you sometimes with a faraway look in your eye, little does he know you have the sound of the tides in your ears and the taste of kelp on your tongue. He doesn't wish to pry, but he'll butter some toast and set it down lightly in front of you, hoping to wake you from your reverie soon. He'll go back to washing dishes, but keep a close eye on you from the sink.

He's sure it wasn't easy for you to be ripped away from your past life, but he hoped he'd made the transition less painful. In the mornings, if there was time before keeper duty to wander the shores and pick out seashells that caught his eye, he'd do it. Delivering them to you on the platter of breakfast in bed he'd started bringing. He's nothing if not doting, a trait that took over after the initial awkwardness of sharing a house with a stranger dissipated.