Surplus Queer Monsters

spoiler version under here

"water glimmer"

You can draw whatever you want forever

Your dragonfish merman boyfriend can always be relied on.

Reliable enough to stand in line with you for hours in a crowd of people, at least- none of which he is a fan of, besides the 'with you' part.

You've wanted to see this show for months, so you had planned to be lined up hours before. And even with getting here earlier than you thought would be needed for a relatively unknown band, your heart dropped into your chest when you saw the atrocious length of the line.

"Might not even be any left by time we get up there," You announce in a resigned grumble to your companion. He nods, but otherwise seems unfazed.

Huh.

That's the third group of people now that has abruptly left the line in a hurry, looking rather uncomfortable.

Then, something odd starts happening. Gradually, people in front of you in the line start to leave, one by one. Something not very common to see dedicated fans do without good reason…

The next time, you watch closely- and see someone covering their ears with tightly gripped hands as they depart.

Curious, you reach up to your temple and tentatively turn up the amplification on your cybertech implant, only to immediately regret your decision.

Instantly, you're hit with a sharp, droning note- the audio version of brain freeze.

You immediately rush to turn it back down, struggling through the full body wince wracking your frame, your eyes starting to water at the sheer discomfort.

It doesn't hurt, really. Not in a physical pain sense. This sensation is more of an interior-discomfort-made-exterior one.

You turn back to glance at the merman standing behind you, just in time to catch a glimpse of those brilliant blue fins of his collapsing back flat again his jaw.

You're not too oblivious to notice the connection when he's been caught red handed. It sounds like the noises he makes when he's happy or excited, only more like nails on a chalkboard.

"Are you doing-" You asked, hushed, and gesture to the general area around you with a swirl of your index finger. "That?"

"No." He says, with the fragile neutral face of someone who is aware that you know he is lying. "Doing what?"

"Making that awful noise."

He stares blankly at you, his crystal clear blue eyes making you feel silly for suggesting such a thing.

"The one that sounds just like the noises you make? Y'know. The chittery ones that sound like a bug? But like, way louder and high pitched?"

"I'm not a bug." He scoffs, offended.

You continue to look at him pointedly in unspoken question, until he realizes he's not wriggling out of it.

"Usually you can't hear it. None of you surface dwellers usually can." He relents, tapping the same side of his head that you touch to control your device. "Even with the special ears."

That's probably the closest to a direct confession that you're going to get.

"Don't do that."

"Why?"

You consider your words and how to make them effective. His culture relies on non-verbal communication most of the time, but the vocalizations they do use… He basically is using it the way he would be in the ocean, so you doubt he would easily understand the nuance of why this is just as much of a jerk move as playing a high pitched tone outside of a store.

"It's… unkind, to subject people to unpleasant sounds. Especially ones they can't technically detect."

"Oh."

You glance at the line ahead. On second thought, you might actually have a chance now…

"Don't do that after this time."