#yandere jade x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

merakiui · 4 months

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The Most Dangerous Game [1]

yandere!jade leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, slight hints of dub-con, coercion, manipulation, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, friends with benefits, obsession, unrequited/one-sided love, brief angst, choking, pregnancy, implied baby-trapping, characters written as 18+ note - it is never a good idea to make mutually beneficial arrangements with jade leech. // split into two parts due to size. read the second half here.

Even though Floyd has yet to invite you to any of his practices and games, you’ve attended each one like a diligent, dedicated, devoted parasite. You sit amongst a sea of faces and watch him dribble down the court, sweat clinging to every curvature of muscle that composes his well-built figure. He’s glowing down there, a radiant sun that everyone, both offense and defense, seems to revolve around. And when he scores—when his lips widen into that goofy, good-natured grin you adore so dearly—you’re the first to rise from the bench and cheer like a marionette on strings.

For all of your support, Floyd never looks your way.

Why should he? You cannot expect light to acknowledge shadow when both are so contrasting. Instead you’ve contented yourself with admiring him from afar, sectioned off from his brilliance with invisible barriers and walls. He’s something of a celebrity in your eyes—an untouchable, unfathomable star.

He’s the reason you’ve started wearing your makeup a certain way—lavender eyeshadow and liquid eyeliner and the softest touch of glitters upon your skin. He never notices; you never expect him to. He’s the reason you’ve applied for a job at the Mostro Lounge, swallowing the anxiety that comes with nerve-racking interviews and social interaction in hopes of getting hired. You failed both times (you talked too much in the first interview and in the second you didn’t talk enough).

By the third attempt, you’ve made a modicum of progress. You’re certain all is right in your world when you leave the VIP room, still fidgeting with post-interview jitters. As you wander through the glorious tunnel hall, awash in dappled light and mulling over the worth of the position you applied for and whether it’s the best for Floyd-watching, you happen to cross paths with your star.

And he is so bright today.

“Oh, Floyd, hello!”

He turns, assesses you with a fleeting once-over, and then hums his lazy greeting. “Sup, Shrimpy.”

Shrimpy. Even though he hardly spares you the time of day, hearing that nickname—the one reserved only for you—is enough to soothe the sting of cyclical, never-ending neglect.

“We might be coworkers soon,” you tell him, unable to contain your enthusiasm.

“That right?”

You nod, rocking back and forth on your heels. “I look forward to working with you! Um… Maybe you can show me the ropes?”

Floyd considers it, his lips twisting into a disinterested half-frown. “We’ll see. It gets kinda busy and Azul’s always puttin’ me out on the floor. I dunno if I’d have enough time. ’Sides, he’ll probably want Jade teachin’ ya. He’s better at that stuff.”

“That’s okay! I can handle crowded,” you blurt, desperate to reel him in before he can slip through your fingers yet again, an eel in every sense of the word. “And I’m sure you’re just as good, if not better, than Jade!”

It’s worth it if we can be closer. If I can stand next to you, admire you, watch you work…

Floyd stares at your clasped hands. If he notices the way your fingernails—each painted a delicate purple—pierce your palms, he doesn’t comment. His mismatched gaze flicks to your face.

“Ya hafta get hired before any of that.”

“Ah, that’s true. Well, actually, I just came out of an interview. I think I did well.”

“Who knows,” he says, grinning, and your heart sprouts ivory wings, bone poking through organs to shred them into ribbons. Floyd leans in close, his face centimeters from yours, and you can smell the wild ocean that clings to him—the natural scent of his home mixed with sandalwood cologne. You’d devour him if you could, but then that would leave you with a pile of bones and you like the energetic life that is just barely contained within so much muscle. “Shrimpy’d look good in my uniform.”

And before you can boldly cover the remaining sliver of distance, he’s floating away with a mystical giggle, pulled from your proximity by some invisible force. You’d follow him down the hall if you weren’t so overcome with joyous shock, nearly folding in on yourself with a pulse so rapid you fear it’ll ascend into your throat. Beneath makeup so meticulously applied, your face is warming with a ferocious heat.

He said I’d look good in the uniform.

Your hands press against your cheeks to quell spreading embarrassment, and you’re unable to suppress the toothy smile that pulls your lips apart.

No, not just that. He said I’d look good in his uniform. His uniform! Floyd said that. Floyd told me I would look good in his uniform!

The space between ribs and lungs suddenly becomes a cage filled with restless butterflies, each fluttering amidst pearly bone and velvety organs. You replay his words as if they are the finest song, a tune uniquely produced by Floyd, and it sets your heart on a frenzied track. But then it sinks into your stomach when you realize you forgot to reapply the expensive perfume you procured from Sam’s shop. Could he still faintly smell it even with the closeness? It’s sultry-sweet, smelling of vanilla, patchouli, and a handful of blossoms you can’t recall the names of.

You can, however, remember what the perfume is called—Date Night. You bought it solely because you were certain it would be to Floyd’s tastes, but even now, as you yank your sleeve up to sniff your wrist, you realize you have no idea what constitutes a pleasant scent for him. Like his moods, his interests are always mercurial. Today he might like youthful scents. Tomorrow he might prefer something mature. Next week he might hate both.

“Black orchid,” he says, and you whirl to face him, your tongue tied in knots.

“Flo—” It promptly unties itself the minute you recognize who stands before you. “Oh, it’s just you, Jade.”

“My, how dejected you sound. Have I made you unhappy?”

“Not at all. I just…thought you were Floyd for a minute.”

“Most often do.”

“Right.” You fold your arms behind your back, looking anywhere that isn’t at him. “Um… Could I trouble you with something?”

“I suppose I have enough time to lend a listening ear.”

“Okay, so I was interviewed again for a server position and I think I did well, but I’m still not sure if it was well enough. That’s why I’m hoping you might be able to put in a good word for me. Since you’re close with Azul, you know.”

“I wouldn’t say we’re as close as you think.”

You cut through him with a sharp scowl, unamused with whatever game he’s playing. “This is important.”

“As is the distinction in how we define closeness. Is it a matter of time that molds a bond, or is it a matter of physical proximity? For example, our proximity allows me to make note of your perfume. Would that make us just as close, if not closer, than where I stand with Azul?”

Your brow furrows, but then you’re grasping at his lapels, eyes wide and crazed. “You noticed?! Do you think Floyd would notice? Does he like black orchids?”

“He has a keen nose, yes.”

“But…”

Jade tilts his head at you, his hands closing around yours and expertly peeling them off. He smooths the nonexistent wrinkles in his blazer. “There is no but.”

“But Floyd can’t identify flowers and he might not appreciate it like you do.” You peer at him, frowning. “There is a but. Two buts.”

“Ah, you know him well.”

“Hardly. I don’t even know if he likes this kind of perfume.”

“Have you tried asking?”

You open your mouth to answer—yes, yes of course!—but the lie sticks in your throat.

“My record is five minutes,” you say instead, which is arguably more telling than the inquiry you’ve left unanswered.

Jade raises a perfect eyebrow. “You keep track?”

“He usually gives me five minutes or however long his interest in me lasts. Sometimes he doesn’t even spare me a glance. I go to all of his games and practices. I cheer the loudest. I make sure to offer him a water bottle and towel after everything’s over. Still, no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I’m only afforded a few minutes.”

“How unfortunate.”

“You don’t sound very sympathetic.”

Jade chuckles. “Am I meant to?”

Cold-hearted ass. Floyd would never be this mean to me.

You almost give him the pleasure of an icy retort, but you catch yourself. “Can you please just tell Azul to seriously consider me? I want to work at the lounge! And isn’t he always saying he could use more help? Well, here I am—and it’s all willing. No trick contracts necessary.”

Jade hums, stepping around you to assess…something. You aren’t quite sure what that something is, but after a moment of silence he looks at you and says, “The Mostro Lounge is an establishment, not a place for play.”

“I wouldn’t play. I’d work.”

“Work and play are essentially the same when you’re so blinded by certain distractions.”

Unsurprisingly, he sees through your motives. Jade has always been perceptive as a pinpoint, slicing to the heart of matters until the bitter truths leak out. Although your interest in Floyd has never been secret, it’s still troublesome that you can’t fool him with excuses.

Your shoulders deflate. “How else am I supposed to get closer to Floyd? I can’t join the basketball team and I might not get hired for the lounge. I can’t even transfer to Octavinelle either because I’m head of Ramshackle! This is so unfair.” To cement the complaint, you scuff your shoe against the tiles, huffing noisily. “I’m a loyal customer, too! I always pay the one drink minimum when I visit, and sometimes I get more than one just so Azul won’t kick me out for loitering. I even have the menu and its prices memorized by heart! I’d be a perfect worker.”

“And yet your only motivation for wanting to work is to see Floyd during his shifts.”

“Exactly! He served me once, you know. It was a really good day…”

You sigh, smiling dreamily as the memory surfaces like foam on a rising tide. He’d balanced the drink on a silver tray, weaving smoothly through the aisle spotted with servers and customers alike, and there was a certain bounce in his step. It was a great day solely because Floyd’s mood was sunny, and when he’s pleased you’re pleased. When he stopped at your table, he set the drink down—a fizzy slush dyed blue and purple—and said, “Shrimpy likes sweet stuff, yeah?”

Not always, you thought, but you nodded and wrapped your fingers around the cold glass, savoring his voice more than the pretty presentation itself. You purchased this one solely because it reminded you of the Coral Sea and its ice floes during winter. Floyd didn’t seem to make the connection, but you didn’t expect him to. Just knowing he was the one handling your beverage was enough for you. You must have been admiring him for too long because he was smiling the next moment, one arm draped over the booth so he could observe you much closer than before. You’d shrunk into the booth, fearing he’d taken issue with such blatant staring.

And then he giggled, angling his head in that cute, childish way. “Shrimpy’s eyes are reeeal pretty.” He hummed to himself, seeming satisfied with your mute shock. “Just like shiny stones.”

If you had been sipping, you’re certain the fruity liquid would have gone down with a choke. Before you could insist on an elaboration—what sort of stone? Why do you say that? Are they really that pretty?—he was slinking away, practically sparkling with a potent thrill.

For the rest of the time you spent in the lounge, your heart was packed full of feathers.

“He said my eyes were pretty. Isn’t that just wonderful?”

“It’s the truth,” Jade echoes, a hand held over his heart. “When the light hits your eyes at the right—”

“Oh!” Your exclamation seems to startle him, but you pay it no mind. “Azul probably thinks I’ll be subpar because of my interest in Floyd, but if I can prove that I won’t be distracted he’ll definitely hire me!”

“I…” He pauses, furrows his brows briefly, and then assumes his usual countenance. You miss the flicker of hurt that fizzles out in his eyes, snuffed like candlelight at midnight. “I suppose it would certainly give you a better chance at securing a position.”

“Then I’ll just say everything I’ve always wanted to tell him and I’ll be able to focus.”

“My, aren’t you a bold thing?”

“You wish. There’s no way I could do something like that.” You clap your hands and raise them above your head in pleading prayer. “So please let me practice on you instead!”

“Practice?” He blinks. “On me?”

“Don’t play dumb. It’s not cute.” Huffing, you reach up and flick his forehead, a daring gesture that might’ve earned his ire if he wasn’t smiling like a scheming devil. “You’re Floyd’s twin. If I pretend you’re him and run through a practice speech, it’ll be easier to confess when the time comes.”

“Do you honestly think so?” His feet carry him towards the lounge, shoes clicking out a rhythm of departure. “I’m afraid I’m not a charity. You’d have much better luck discussing your problem with Azul.”

He’s deliberate in his movements. If he walks away from you, it’ll leave you with a sense of urgency—if you don’t negotiate a deal now the discussion will end here and you’ll never have another chance to broach this subject again. You know his game. You hate his game, but playing it is the only way to get through to him.

He really does look like Floyd when his back is turned, and watching him walk away from you is more agonizing than a knife to the stomach.

Swallowing your rationality, you hasten your steps and seize his arm. He stops and cranes his neck to peer at you.

“Wait. Just…” You scowl at the floor, hot with shame. “Please help me. I’ll do whatever you want in return. Just let me run a practice confession by you and then I’ll never bother you again.”

“You were so confident before. Where’d your bravado go? If you’re going to confess, you must have courage.” You can’t bear to lift your head to view his knowing smirk. “I’m even willing to cheer for you.”

“Stop dragging this out. Just tell me what you want.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Lithe fingers curl under your chin to raise your stare to his. His eyes flash with mischief, softening in a way that’s so reminiscent of his brother. And then, as if to inflict even more emotional damage, he adds in Floyd’s nasally timbre, “Shrimpy likes havin’ fun, yeah?”

Oh.

Oh, he’s good.

Too good.

You jerk back so fast that your sneakers squeak on the floor, gratingly explosive in the otherwise empty, silent hall.

“You… You—how did you—” Your heart is thrumming beneath your shirt, a ticking bomb just waiting to blow your chest open. “That was a perfect impression of Floyd.”

“It’s nothing special. I’m merely putting on a voice.”

“No, it’s really special. It’s everything!” You twirl towards the glass, suppressing a squeal. “That was so Floyd! I can’t believe you can do such a good impersonation! Jade, this changes everything. You’re just what I need to make this confession work!”

He stares at you as you spin and giggle like a drunken ballerina. “Is that so?”

“Yes! Very so!” You skip over to him and clutch his hands, grinning like a maniac. “Please help me with this and I’ll do whatever you want. And if I get hired, I’ll pull more than my weight! I promise!”

He peers at your face, speechless for a brief second, before his heterochromatic hues flick to your hands clasped around his. “Very well. I’ll help you, but in return I’d like your assistance with something.”

“With what? Come on, Jade. Don’t be an ass.”

“I would never.”

“You’re doing it right now.”

He chuckles. “I’d like a taste-tester.”

“A…taste-tester?”

“You heard correctly.”

“For the lounge?”

“For my own personal hobby.” He smiles sincerely—or about as sincere as he can get when he’s Jade Leech—and adds in a mournful tone, “Azul and Floyd are rather stubborn when it comes to trying my mushroom dishes, so I would appreciate it if you could offer your time and taste buds in exchange for my aid.”

“Oh. Wait, really? You’re serious?” You narrow your eyes. “Somehow I don’t believe that’s all you want…”

“Are you willing to offer more? If so, I’d gladly like a mindless scapegoat who will do anything and everything I ask without question, a personal assistant who excels in mathematics for calculating the lounge’s monetary affairs, and a—”

“Yeah, I think I’ll stick with being your taste-tester. Those other occupations don’t sound very fun.”

“Then if we’re both in agreement, shall we shake on it?” He extends a gloved hand. You peer at it, hesitant. “Well, how about it? I’ll be your Floyd if you’ll be my Shrimpy.”

“And you promise I’ll get hired?”

“I never said that. However, if you do manage to claw your way into the lounge, congratulations will be in order.” Gracefully, he removes his scarf and wraps it around your waist to draw you in closer. The slightest scent of brine clings to him, but beneath that there are notes of lavender and vanilla. A fragrance that could be Floyd’s if you deceive yourself. With a sly grin, he murmurs in Floyd’s voice, “Ya’d look damn fine in my uniform.”

For a moment, you stare at him, unblinkingly infatuated, before a smile sharpens on your lips. You twirl out of his grasp, taking his scarf with you. Closing your hand around his, you meet his tone-toned eyes and shake firmly.

“I’d look even better beneath you,” you tease, captivating with an addictive, amorous charm, and return his scarf to its rightful place upon his shoulders. “I look forward to working with you, Jade. In more ways than one.”

You swipe invisible dust particles from his blazer and take a step back to admire your handiwork. Before he can get another word in, you’re strutting down the tunnel hall, bathed in whimsical blues, and humming a fluttery tune. Jade gazes at the space you once occupied. He brings two fingers up to his neck to feel his pulse. It’s pounding beneath his touch, a rush of blood and endorphins. With a trembling inhalation, he holds his breath, lowers his arm, adjusts his scarf, and peers at his reflection in the glass. Exhaling slowly, he notices his cheeks are tinged pink.

“The figures for this month’s budget…” he mumbles, continuing on his way, his shoes clicking a steady rhythm upon the tiled floor. He’s calculating the numbers, but they hardly matter when his thoughts drift elsewhere. “The figures for…the budget.”

Gradually, color drains from his face until he’s pale as paper, stoic as stone, but his restless heart continues to run laps within his ribs.

“So this is the kitchen,” you marvel, admiring the cramped space for a short moment before peering at your distorted reflection in a metal colander. “It’s smaller than I imagined.”

“The dorm kitchen is much larger. Keep in mind the Mostro Lounge is merely a sliver of space Azul acquired. It’s only natural that it’s smaller,” Jade explains, as if it’s riveting information you absolutely must know. He’s flipping through a thick cookbook and scanning each recipe. “You should familiarize yourself with the layout if you intend to work here.”

“I’ll do that when I get hired.”

“If you get hired.”

“When I get hired, asshole.”

He tuts. “One of the basic requirements for becoming a Mostro Lounge employee is that you must display a certain level of maturity and respect, both of which you seem to lack.”

With a scowl, you turn away from the array of hanging kitchen utensils. “I have plenty of both.”

“Is that so? I couldn’t tell.”

“Floyd doesn’t have either and you let him slide.”

“Well, of course. I would never police his habits, or lack thereof. Why should I risk relinquishing my front row seat for free entertainment just for the sake of peacekeeping?”

With a petulant eye-roll, you stalk towards the countertop and lean against it with your arms folded. Jade glances at you.

“So why’d you have me come here again? I wanna go back to Ramshackle and sleep.”

“If I recall, you wanted to practice your confession.”

“Here?” When he nods, you gasp. “No way! I can’t confess in a kitchen—of all places. That’s not romantic at all.”

Jade angles his body towards you. “Any place can be romantic enough if you make it so.”

“I’m not confessing in a kitchen, Jade.”

“Not even during the intimate hours of night?”

“Not a chance.”

“In that case, what are your preferences?”

Taking pause, you consider the many locations spread across Night Raven’s spacious campus. Floyd has always been so spontaneous, so it’s difficult to determine which places he might frequent. With a furrowed brow, you narrow your list to four key spots.

“The botanical garden, the locker room, the library, and Floyd’s room,” you admit, ticking each off on your fingers.

“A locker room doesn’t seem very romantically appealing. Ah, might this be a human’s ideal aesthetic?”

“Not exactly, but imagine how perfect it’d be if I caught him after one of his games and confessed! It would totally look like a scene from a movie, right?”

With a halfhearted, mostly distracted hum, he traces a finger down the length of the page and then draws away to procure the needed ingredients. You watch him, noting a bowl piled with mushrooms and a cutting board already situated near the cookbook. Jade flits about the kitchen with the grace of a ballerina, his long legs carrying him to and fro in the small space. By the time he’s returned to the island in the center, you’ve already read through the recipe.

“Mushroom brownies?”

“Precisely.” He smiles at you, his eyes bright under the dim kitchen lights. “The healthy kind.”

You peer at him and frown. “Healthy as in good-alternative-to-junk-food healthy or…”

“Your distrust stings. When have I ever strayed from a recipe? It doesn’t call for hallucinogenic or poisonous mushrooms, so I won’t add any.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

He sets the items on the countertop. “Perhaps you’ll have to watch carefully then. My hand might just slip…”

“I’m supposed to practice a confession. I can’t do that when I’m dying!”

“And in compliance with our deal you’re required to share your opinions on my cooking, so fortunately for you I must keep you alive.” Jade tilts his head at you, beaming amiably, and pushes the bowl of mushrooms into your chest. “Now if you would be so kind, please wash these mushrooms for me.”

Your fingers curl around the bowl and, grabbing the colander from off its hook along the way, you drag yourself over to the sink. “Fine, fine. But please promise these won’t kill me or make me see and feel things.”

“You have my word.” His hand splays across his chest, a genuine gesture of honesty. At least you hope that’s what it is. “Those mushrooms are safe to consume. In fact, the Agaricus bisporus is known to be very low in calories and sugar. You’ll get lots of protein and vitamin D from them, which is why they’re often used in nutritional, plant-based dishes. Hence why they’re a key ingredient in this recipe.”

“Is that right?” You set the strainer down and empty the contents of the bowl into it.

“Indeed. I managed to find quite a few on my last hike and so I’ve been saving them for this very moment.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot you’re in the Mountain Lovers Club.”

There’s a brief silence and then Jade asks, “You were aware?”

“I found out from Floyd during that one time Vargas made us all go camping. He said you were pretty bummed about not being able to go, but you really didn’t miss much. I, on the other hand, did.” You twist the knob and cold water spills from the faucet, wetting the mushrooms and washing away soil and grime at once. “I heard Floyd and the others went up against Vargas. I would’ve loved to see it, but instead I was tied to a tree.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“It was such a lame way to spend my evening. I would give anything to watch Floyd in his mer form. Curse Vargas! It’s his fault I missed the fight!”

“Why not ask? I’m sure he’ll show you if you’re so desperate—ah, forgive me—curious to see.”

“Maybe.” You shake the colander to stir its contents and sigh, reminiscing the few times you’ve witnessed Floyd in his element. “He’s really handsome…”

“So you’ve said.”

“I wish he’d talk to me more.”

“So you’ve griped.”

You whirl to pin him with a hateful scowl. “You’re not helping.”

Jade giggles. “Aw. Is Shrimpy sad I’m not givin’ her enough attention?”

You open your mouth to snap at him—not funny, asshole—and immediately close it. Lowering your gaze to the mushrooms, you grip the handles of the colander more tightly.

“Yeah,” you mumble instead, shaking off any form of shame that attempts to crawl its way up your spine. “Yeah, I’m sad. Really sad! I want to have a genuine conversation with you, but I can never get past feeling so…amazed. Like… Like everything that leaves my mouth—I feel like it’ll sound stupid and then you’ll think I’m weird or boring. I just… I’ve always liked you, but I can never put it into eloquent terms and so instead all I can do is admire you from afar and hope you’ll come talk to me.”

Exhausted from your word vomit, you wilt against the sink. And then, before you can think to turn around, a pair of hands rest upon your waist and you turn to find Floyd pressing himself against you. He smiles and runs his hands up the length of your hips, mapping your body’s shape with delicate strokes.

“No need to be so tongue-tied,” he says, resting his chin upon your shoulder. His breath ghosts over the shell of your ear, wispy and tantalizing. Instinctively, you shudder, pushing back against him, your eyes darting from the hands that cage you in on either side to his face, so close you could practically yank him by the collar and kiss him. “I don’t need fancy words. Just be yourself and talk to me. S’not so hard, yeah?”

“But it is!” you insist with a whine. “It is when I… When you… When… Ugh! It’s impossible!”

“But you’re talkin’ to me just fine. What’s so different?”

“Because… Because you’re just like Floyd and this confession sucks!”

Like a spell that’s been broken, the sensual tension dissipates before it can reach its peak and you find yourself standing rigidly straight between Jade’s arms, the silence only shattered by the rushing water. He blinks, momentarily stunned, before clearing his throat.

“My apologies. I assumed this method would help resolve some of your reservations regarding Floyd.”

You tear your eyes away from him, settling on the floor tiles beneath your feet. “It helped too much. It felt so…real.” With an embarrassed groan, you reach to turn off the faucet just as Jade does, and his hand covers yours like a blanket. You manage a sheepish half-smile. “Sorry for being a mess.”

His features soften considerably. “Let’s split the blame evenly and be a mess together. How does that sound?”

You snort. “That definitely makes the shame tolerable.”

With his hand still on yours, the two of you twist the handle and the flowing water ceases. He seems to remember you’re still holding the colander, for he nods towards it and then withdraws.

“The mushrooms look clean enough. Let’s take a break and bake the brownies. After that, we’ll try a new approach.”

“That sounds good!” Confidence partially restored, you empty the mushrooms into the bowl and skip over to him. “Do you usually forage for ingredients by yourself? Doesn’t anyone want to go with you?”

“Well, Azul doesn’t share the same enthusiasm for my hobbies, and Floyd doesn’t fancy mushrooms.”

“I meant someone aside from those two.”

“Then no. I’m afraid I’m all alone on my excursions.”

You poke at a bulbous button mushroom. “Why’s that?” And then you hastily add, “Never mind. You’re you, so of course no one wants to go.”

Jade gathers a handful of mushrooms, sets them down on the cutting board, and gently pats them down with a paper towel. “I don’t mind solitude. In fact, it’s quite comfortable.”

You pass him a knife. “I’ll join you on your next club thing.”

He stares at you, astonished. “Will you now?”

“Yes, I will! I want to collect cool-looking rocks.”

“Cool-looking rocks…” he repeats and slowly runs the knife through the mushroom held between his fingertips. “You want to accompany me on a hike for the purpose of finding…cool-looking rocks?”

“You’re correct. Or am I going to interrupt your comfortable alone time?”

“For a reason as wonderful as the one you’ve proposed, I’d say you’re more than welcome to interrupt.”

“Hell yeah!” You bump your hip against his, giggling. “Rock hunting with Jade! I can’t wait!”

He peers at your waist for an abnormally long time before asking, “I assume you want to find rocks for Floyd?”

“Mhm! He gave me a pretty stone once and I’ve displayed it on the mantel ever since. I pat it every morning before leaving for class.”

“How routinely predictable of you.”

“Why, thank you.” You procure a knife for yourself and, setting a handful of mushrooms on the board, mimic Jade’s precise actions. “It’s been my good luck charm ever since.”

“If I may pry, why did you take a liking to my brother?”

“If I’m allowed to interrupt, then you’re allowed to pry. For now. As for why I like Floyd… I guess it started shortly after we first met. I thought he was scary at first—and he was—but he’s really sweet once you get to know him. And there’s something so…Floyd about him.” You gaze at Jade. “You know?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t. Please enlighten me.”

He slides the rest of his mushrooms towards you and busies himself with opening a package of medjool dates. While considering your response, you watch him pit each one before setting them aside to be diced. Eventually, you decide on a solid answer.

“Well, he’s always himself. He doesn’t care what others think. He’s energetic and playful. He’s annoying in the best ways, and he’s really smart when he applies himself!”

“So far you’ve only listed adjectives. I fail to see how any of that explains your feelings.”

“That’s just it! It’s difficult to put it into words. I like Floyd because he’s Floyd. Because he’s entirely himself without any restraint. Because he’s lovable and funny without trying to be. Because he’s always nice to the ones he cares for. Because he’s genuinely, honestly, unapologetically Floyd.”

Jade’s hand slows and with it the knife comes to a halt. His knuckles whiten around the handle. “Well.” He shuts his mouth, stares at the oven as it preheats, and fixes his lips into a thin smile. “Those are certainly heartfelt sentiments. I’m sure Floyd would appreciate them if you told him.”

“But I can’t! I have to prepare myself for the inevitable rejection and I’m just not ready yet. Not to mention, I can hardly hold a conversation with him without sounding awkward! It’s impossible, Jade. He makes me feel stupid.”

“Stupid in love.”

You shove him lightly. “Hush.”

“Perhaps…” He reaches for your free hand, fingers twining with yours. “You needn’t speak at all.”

“What’re you getting at?”

“Body language is a very important facet of moray courtship. I could teach you. Alas, if you’d prefer to do this the human way…”

“Moray courtship?”

“You aren’t aware? It’s rather fascinating to land-dwellers.”

“What is it? Is it like a kiss on the cheek and then you’re married? If that’s the case, all I need to do is kiss Floyd and—”

“Not quite. It’s much more complicated than that. Although I suppose a kiss is just as meaningful on land as it is in the sea.” Jade’s leaning in now, his face centimeters from yours. “Well? Why not tell me all the things you wish to express to Floyd in a single kiss?”

“But…” You turn your face away from him. “I can’t. I’m saving my first kiss for Floyd.”

There’s a stifling silence that fills the space between you and Jade. For a minute, you think he might break your wrist, what with how tight his grip has become, but then it loosens. He runs a hand through his hair to tousle it in a way that’s reminiscent of Floyd’s disheveled style. When you look at him again, he’s Floyd.

He’s not. You know he’s not. You tell yourself he’s not. But tonight he’s temporarily Floyd, and that lie patches an empty hole in your heart.

“Hmm? Savin’ a single smooch for me? Shrimpy’s too nice. I gotta pay ya back for bein’ so cute.”

“Jade—”

“S’not fair to say another guy’s name when I’m here. Ya want me to squeeze ya out? Well, do ya?”

Stop pretending! you think, torn between what you want to do and what you shouldn’t do. But if I practice on him… No. No, I can’t do that to Jade. It won’t mean anything and first kisses are supposed to be special. But he’s right here in front of me, and he sounds and looks just like Floyd. Damn it! Maybe it doesn’t have to count as my first kiss. Just one kiss. Just so I know what I’m working with. That’s all there is to it. A new approach—like what Jade said. Kissing instead of talking. I can do that.

You swallow every logical inhibition, each one burning your throat like fiery whiskey, and set the knife beside the chopped mushrooms. You admire his toothy grin, ignoring the strand of hair that falls in the wrong place, and tug him towards you by both ends of his scarf. His breath ghosts over your lips, and suddenly your entire throat feels dry and your palms are clammy with sweat.

It’s just one kiss.

Your mouth fits awkwardly on his at first, hesitant like you’re attempting to force the wrong pair of puzzle pieces together, and you fumble for a place to put your hands after he’s gathered you in his arms. With your eyelids fluttering shut, you attempt to lose yourself in the moment, in the sounds of your frantic heartbeat as he tilts your head, gently molding your lips to his, and eventually everything clicks into place. You lace your arms around his neck, the stiffness in your shoulders slackening, and part your lips to offer more of yourself to him. Floyd’s a brilliant kisser, all rough edges smoothed out in a kiss that’s so short you greedily pursue him for more.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, stroking along your jaw. And you comply, desperate to please, to be all that he ever sees. He laughs, breathlessly alive with energy, and sandwiches your face between large, smooth palms. His thumbs hook into your mouth, prodding playfully at your tongue. “Not too wide, Shrimpy. Else you’ll send a totally different message…”

You’re adrift in his arms, heart aflutter with adoration, brain fuzzy with cotton fluff and static, and you can’t stop yourself from smiling like a fool when you pull away. “Your lips are soft…”

He giggles and runs his index over your plush lips. “Shrimpy’s softer. Sweeter, too.”

“I hope…” You wipe saliva from your mouth, looking everywhere but at him. Your nerves are buzzing with adrenaline. I kissed Floyd. I kissed Floyd. We just kissed. “I hope kissing conveyed my feelings for you.”

“Mm, hard to say. Ya gotta do somethin’ more than once, otherwise it’s never gonna stick.”

“Wait. What do you mean by—”

He’s leaning in again, his lips brushing yours, and this time you’re clinging to him, so ready and willing to have your breath stolen yet again. Unfortunately, before the kiss can deepen any more than before, the oven beeps, shattering the fantasy that’s been building over time. You tear yourself away from Floyd, panting from both the exhilaration and the embarrassment, and gaze at the oven.

“Oh… The oven… Right. Yeah. Brownies.” Flustered, you pat his rumpled uniform—just how hard were you gripping his clothes?—and take a measured step away from him. “We’re baking brownies.”

Floyd—no, Jade watches you skim through the recipe. He presses two fingers to his mouth and traces his bottom lip. In the heat of your inexperience, you nipped at that very spot, your blunt teeth almost clicking against his razored ones. He returned the favor, nibbling your lip between his pearly points, led on by the welcoming warmth of your body pinned to his. Though he didn’t break skin, the thought that he could’ve—that he could’ve tilted your head back, bitten your lips bloody, and savored slick iron—is a delicious temptation.

A faint heartbeat thrums beneath the pads of his fingers, nestled deep within the flesh of his lips. His chest is tightly wound, not yet close to bursting, and when he inhales it’s thorned wire—painfully unpleasant.

He kissed you.

“Okay… Okay. Mushrooms finely chopped. Done. Now… Next—uh. Combine the minced dates and mushrooms. Easy enough. I’ll…put them in a bowl.”

Surfacing from the enchanting trance of the past few minutes, you and Jade soon begin to work in tandem, wordlessly following the recipe step by step. Unlike previous times, this silence isn’t nearly as overwhelming. You’re certain it’s only because the both of you are so focused on baking, too distracted to confront the matter at hand, but a deeper part of you says otherwise. And you’ll never confirm this unless you take a hammer to the ice barricade that has erected itself between you and him.

Sighing, you place a tray now filled with brownie batter in the oven, shut the door, and set the timer. Jade’s stare bores into your back every step of the way—as it has been for the past fifteen minutes you’ve refused to meet his gaze. Now you turn around, and immediately your face begins to warm.

“A-About everything that happened…” you start, watching him as he works to clean the countertop. It’s now or never—say it before you lose your nerve and shame devours you in one ruthless bite. “Maybe it’s asking too much, but can you teach me more about moray courtship?”

His posture seems to become even more prim and proper upon hearing your request. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to—”

“But as Floyd! You have to teach me as Floyd.”

Jade’s hand, which had previously been wiping a layer of almond flour away with a rag, stills. He nods and resumes cleaning seconds later. “Of course. As per our agreement, I’m meant to be your Floyd. I wouldn’t teach you as anyone else.”

“Okay. All right. Cool.” You gather the dirty dishes and bring them to the sink, shaking off your apprehensions as you go. “If I know moray courtship, I’ll be able to craft a better confession. Or we could kiss and maybe he’ll understand what I’m trying to say.”

“In that case, you may want to improve your technique.”

“Shut up! My technique is… Actually, yeah, you’re right. It’s a mess. I suck at kissing.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that. You just need practice.” Jade meets you at the sink and offers you a washcloth. “I’d be more than happy to be your practice partner.”

You scowl at him, unimpressed with his friendly nonchalance. “You just want to see me fail when I try to kiss you.”

“That’s an added bonus.”

Rolling your eyes, you snatch the rag from him. “So how exactly is kissing part of moray courtship?”

“It’s not. Kissing is just a basic form of showing affection. All mers kiss, just like how all humans kiss. There isn’t much significance.”

You stare at him, your fingers curled into the sodden dishrag, and your mouth drops open in disbelief. Jade chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement, and guides your mouth shut with his slender index.

“Now a mouth left agape… You’re dangerously bold, Shrimpy.”

“You… Y-You… You!” Acting purely on instinctive impulse, you cup water in your palms and toss it at him. He doesn’t do anything to dodge, allowing the water to soak through his uniform with a patient smile. “You’re the worst! I genuinely believed you!”

“Obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so willing to kiss me.”

“Not you!” You try to slap him and this time he smoothly side-steps your flailing arm. “Floyd, Jade! I want to kiss Floyd!”

“And you will.” He shrugs his blazer off, folding it neatly, before adding slyly, “In your dreams.”

You round on him, intending to smack him silly, but he catches your wrist. Your face explodes with a newfound warmth and you rip your arm free, loathing his growing smirk with every passing second. Grumbling a slew of empty threats, you distract yourself with the dishes. Jade observes you as you clean a bowl, content to exist in silence once more. It’s a relief for you because you no longer have to battle his scintillating wit or entertain more annoying banter. But the longer you spend at the sink, meticulously scrubbing, the more you linger on the past few events.

You kissed him, and it wasn’t as terrible as you thought it’d be—likely because he was Floyd during that moment. Even the words that left his mouth were so undeniably Floyd, filled with a fondness only he’s capable of twining throughout his speech. And hearing that prized nickname Floyd reserves for you was more magical than any sort of delusion you might conjure in a dreamscape.

Despite the fact that the kiss had been the result of your inability to see through a simple trick, it did, embarrassingly enough, soothe your fear of rejection. If it’s Jade impersonating Floyd, you’ll never need to mourn whether or not your feelings will be reciprocated. And isn’t that just the perfect panacea to your situation?

If it’s Jade, you can immerse yourself in the romance you’ve always wanted with Floyd.

If it’s Jade, you’re allowed to be delusional and lovesick because it’s only a game.

That’s all it will be. A game. A dangerous game, but a game nonetheless. And in this game, both sides can win. You get love from Floyd, and in return Jade gets critique on his cooking. It’s a beautiful arrangement, so why should you spend time regretting and fretting over little details that will sour your fluffy fantasy?

“If you’re actually going to teach me moray courtship—real moray courtship—” you begin, choosing each individual word with the utmost care, “Floyd can’t know about this. It has to stay between us.”

Jade pantomimes locking his lips and tossing an invisible key. “It shall be our special secret.”

You stare at him, brows knitted in scrutiny.

Jade allows this to carry on for an extended moment before asking, “What reason would I have to disclose our private affairs to Floyd?”

“I dunno. Maybe sabotage my chances with him? Make him think I’m weird? Make him hate me?”

“All wonderful ideas, but I’m not that viciously vindictive.”

“You literally are.”

“I literally am not,” he mimics with a sharp smile.

You groan and set the final dish in the drying rack. Wringing excess water from the rag, you pretend it’s Jade. He’s lucky he has his brother’s face, or else you never would have considered agreeing to an arrangement as wildly detrimental as this.

“So why brownies?”

“Why not?”

“Fair.” Drying your hands on your shirt, you walk over to the island, where two stools have been positioned near it. You lower onto the one across from Jade and prop your elbows on the countertop. “You know, I never took you for a sweets guy. Or should I say a sweets eel?”

He chuckles, heterochromatic hues glittering in the amber light. “Confections are rather scarce under the sea, and since I’m here on land I might as well explore all manner of culinary delights.” He leans over the table, nearly conspiratorial, his head angled almost adorably. “Especially sweets.”

“No sweets in the Coral Sea, huh? Then what’d you eat in place of that?”

“Our diets usually consist of a variety of fish and crustaceans. However, at establishments like the one Azul’s mother manages, you can find all kinds of desserts. Sugar is considered a luxury where I’m from, hence why it’s so popular at undersea restaurants. And like most land products that aren’t compatible with water, it’s imported from the surface and stored with magic.”

“Oh, so it’s kinda like fish eggs. They’re a wealthy thing here on land. Except I don’t think fish eggs need to be stored with magic…”

“I suppose that’s one way of connecting the similarity. Sugar is plentiful on land, whereas it’s scarce in the sea. And there’s no shortage of eggs where I come from.”

“That makes sense.” Jade nods but refuses to elaborate further on the subject and so, rather clumsily, you attempt to segue into another topic. “Do you prefer life up here to life down there?”

“Well, I’m always going to be a moray. That fact will never change.”

“But if you had to choose land or sea, which one would it be?”

“If I had to choose between the two… Both are charming in their own ways, each with different appeals, and not every mer is granted the opportunity to live so freely on land.” He hums, considering. “If you were in my position, what would you pick?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “How artfully you dodge the question… But if I was picking, I guess I’d go wherever Floyd goes.”

“Oh?”

“If we’re married, I mean! Or in a relationship of some sort. I’d go wherever my partner’s going because anywhere will be wonderful with them by my side. We’d have fun together, see new things, and enjoy each other’s company. The place is just a plus. What matters most is that I’m with someone I care about and we’re making memories together.”

“How nice of you to confine yourself to such a romantic delusion.”

“Says the guy who avoided answering,” you snap, turning your chin up with a huff.

“Perhaps it’s avaricious, but if it’s acceptable I’d like to choose both the land and the sea.”

“Greedy. Greedy.” You tut at him.

His lips curve up with a sincerity you’ve never seen before. “One day I wish to show my beloved the wonders of the sea, and I hope she’ll be willing to share the beauty of the surface with me in return. But if she isn’t very partial to the cold, dark depths, we could live on the land before retiring to the sea as we near the end of our lives. My preferences needn’t be considered so long as she’s content.”

“Now who’s the delusional romantic?”

“Is sharing a life with the one you treasure most not a saccharine ideal?”

As if in agreement, the timer on the oven pings and Jade rises from his seat. You sit with his question, mulling it over like it’s the world’s most complex mathematical equation. But it only takes your brain seconds to arrive at a truthful answer.

Of course I want to share my life with the one I love. Preferably with Floyd…

But that presents another question: What sort of future would Floyd want? Perhaps he’s like Jade and wouldn’t care where he settles so long as he’s with his special someone, or maybe he has a sentimental attachment to the sea and would rather shed his human form and exist in the deep, spiraling blue. Maybe he’d make an exception for you and keep his feet planted on the ground. There are so many possibilities with him, and each one is more random than the last. The longer you dwell on it, the more uncertain you become. Jade’s viewpoint is so agreeable, but it isn’t Jade you want to spend an eternity with. His words are not Floyd’s, however much you wish they were, and you’ll never know what Floyd wants unless you ask and get it right from the source.

But you can’t because you fear surpassing the boundaries of the friendship you’ve worked so hard to maintain. If that crumbles all because you were too blinded by your heart’s desires, you’d never forgive yourself.

“Why is love so hard?” you bemoan just as Jade places the tray on a cork trivet. He slides the oven mittens from off his hands, sparing you a glance before leaving to pour two glasses of milk for the both of you. And then, after hanging the mittens where they belong, he selects a knife from the block and returns. While he scores the brownies into squares, you watch steamy strands curl up in a hypnotic dance. “Love should be sweet without any sadness. Like a brownie! It’s delicious and makes you happy when you eat it.”

“If that was the case, it would be much easier to digest when it isn’t reciprocated.”

“Right! If I’m able to experience a sweet heartbreak, I can move on quickly.” You avert your gaze. “I hope…”

Sighing, somewhat sympathetic, he slides a plate and glass towards you. “For now, why not start small?”

You take the fork he offers next and poke at the dessert. And then you snort, a wide, silly smile blossoming on your features. “You just want my critique.”

“Indeed. Minus the sob story, if possible.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You stab a sliver of the brownie and bring it to your lips. “Hey, wasn’t I supposed to be a taste-tester? Why’d I end up helping you bake?”

“The results of a team effort often taste more delicious, do they not?”

“We’ll see.” You chew slowly at first, expecting the rubbery earthiness of a mushroom. Instead, you find yourself indulging in the rich taste of chocolate. Humming your approval, you eat another bite. “It’s way better than I thought! To think mushrooms could make a dessert so yummy… No wonder why you like them so much. They’re very versatile.”

Jade’s shoulders seem to droop, as if he’s just been relieved of some terrible tension, and a smile flickers on his lips. “I’m pleased it’s to your liking.”

“Mhm!” You lick chocolate smears from the prongs of your fork. Jade tracks the movement of your tongue, but you don’t seem to notice as you work to polish off the brownie. “I’d say it’s a ten out of ten.”

“And so the judge has spoken,” he jests, sampling the brownie on his plate. He nods to himself. “I agree with your assessment. This dish is certainly worthy of praise.”

You sip from your glass next, eyeing him as he runs his fork through the brownie. “I’m not a food critic, so I don’t know what else to say other than it’s delicious and not overwhelmingly sugary. It’s a fun way to mix mushrooms and dessert. So… Uh, bravo? Go us?”

Jade hums around a mouthful. “Your honesty is much appreciated.”

“Should we save some for Floyd? I know mushrooms aren’t his thing, but he likes candy and we don’t have to tell him the ingredients.”

“So you’d rather lie.”

“Not lie. Just…skirt around the details. I think he’d enjoy them.”

“He’ll enjoy squeezing you once he learns you indirectly fed him mushrooms.”

You slap your hands on the countertop and jump up from your seat. Jade blinks at you, fork poised at his mouth. “Wait! I’ve got it! Maybe a kitchen confession is worth it. I could invite Floyd to cook with me and when we’re in the middle of everything I can confess. Then I won’t have to trouble him in the locker room—because chances are, if his team lost, he might be in a bad mood—and I won’t bother you either if I try confessing in his room—because you share a room. The botanical garden would be nice, but I have no idea when or if Floyd would ever visit. And the library… Oh! Maybe a study session? Or should I try tutoring him? But then I’m also not getting high scores and I don’t know how romantic studying is…”

A laugh that sounds more like a gasp yanks you from your hasty monologue, and your quizzical stare slices through him. He covers his mouth with his hand, his shoulders shaking, and you think you see tears spotting his lash line.

“Forgive me,” he says after he’s calmed down. (You won’t.) He dabs at the corners of his eyes with a napkin. “It was so pitifully amusing I couldn’t contain myself.”

Your glower is as fierce as the humiliation. “S-Shut up! You wouldn’t know anything about how it feels to be in love! I want the location and my confession to be perfect because that’s what Floyd deserves. Laugh all you want—I’m going to confess! E-Eventually…”

“You’ll get there one day. Until then, I look forward to witnessing this spectacle.”

“You’re seriously the worst.” Scoffing, you have enough decency to clear your area at the island before rounding on him, jabbing your finger at him in accusation. “And because of that I rescind my previous compliments! The brownie is a solid eight now.”

“Only an eight?”

“Seven. We can go lower.”

“We certainly can.”

The look he gives you is nothing short of lascivious, and your heart leaps up into your throat. Jade steeples his hands like he’s about to brief you on some confidential mission while his eyes rove your body from top to bottom. Even though you’re fully clothed, you feel vulnerable and bare standing before him.

“We certainly won’t,” you retort, clipped and curt. To give your hands something to do, you check the time on your phone. “It’s late. I should get back to my dorm.”

Jade smirks at your not-so-subtle escape attempt. He gestures to the brownies. “Why not take some for yourself? It wouldn’t be very fair if I kept all of the spoils after you put in the time and effort to help.”

“I don’t want any.”

“Would you take some if I was Floyd?”

“Yeah, obviously. Taking anything from you feels like a trap just waiting to be sprung.”

“How cruel. I mean well this time.”

You’re already walking towards the door. “You keep it. It’s your food anyway. I’m only supposed to try it and judge.”

Jade stands from his seat to meet you at the doorway. You turn to view him. He’s holding the tray like it’s a consolation cake. “Won’t you take a sliver? You can have it for breakfast tomorrow morning. Doesn’t that sound marvelous? A delicious brownie with some milk—the only way to start your day, no?”

“Jade.” Your voice takes on a sultry purr, and you bat your eyelashes at him. His entire body seems to perk up at this, and for a moment he reminds you of Floyd with his tightly wound mannerisms, each one unfurling like a sporadic spool of thread when he’s interested in something. If there were stars in his eyes, you’re certain his gaze would hold an entire galaxy with how they sparkle hopefully. “If I take a slice, will you stop being so pushy?”

A Cheshire smile curls upon his lips. “That’s all you needed to say.”

To spite you—or sweeten your sour attitude—Jade sends you home with the entire tray.

The botanical garden is bursting with vibrant life, housing plants of all species, each flourishing within the sticky humidity that blankets the expansive space. You undo a button on your blouse, desperate to abandon your layers in hopes of cooling off. There’s a book in your hands, opened to a page with scientific names and facts of specific flowers. The one you’re currently searching for is a heliotrope. According to this helpful guide, it’s a beautiful bloom meaning eternal love.

It’s the perfect gift to pair with your work-in-progress confession. And, to make it even more symbolic, it’s purple! If that doesn’t scream Octavinelle, what will?

Now if only you could find this flower. It feels like you’ve already seen every available area in your tireless hunt and still haven’t come across the prized heliotrope. But you’d asked Professor Crewel earlier today and he’d confirmed such a flower exists within the gardens, so you refuse to leave without one.

I’m not looking hard enough, you conclude, fanning yourself. This is for Floyd. I can’t give up.

“Ugh. But why can’t Floyd appreciate flowers like Jade?” you grouse, flipping through the book as you walk, admiring other blossoms under the same letter category. “I love him, but he’ll never understand the significance. Is it even worth it to go through all of this trouble? What am I saying? Of course it’s worth it! It’s for Floyd! Who cares if he’s not interested in flowers like Jade? He can still appreciate the sentiment.”

You turn the corner and look up from the paragraphs of text. At the very end of the pathway, hunched over a metal bench and tending to what looks to be a chunk of driftwood, Jade stands in his lab coat. You stop yourself so fast that your shoes screech against the concrete path and you almost trip. Jade glances in your direction just as you leap out of sight, now hidden behind a tall trellis of thick, twisting greenery.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear…

Quietly, you shut the book and eye your various escape paths. On all sides, plants line the walkways, some growing taller than you. Surely it’s possible to leave without stirring up unwanted trouble. Before you can think to move from your current hiding spot, Jade’s silky voice permeates the air.

“Romantic Blooms: A Guide on the Language of Flowers,” he reads, peering over your shoulder at the textbook’s title.

You don’t flinch, having expected he’d come to investigate. Though knowing him, he probably suspected it was you the moment you entered his peripheral.

“Jade.”

“(Name).” He smiles, ignoring the frigid way you address him. “What a lovely coincidence running into you.”

“I was just leaving.”

“Oh, is that so? I was going to ask if you needed anything, but since you seem to be in such a hurry I won’t keep you any longer.”

It’s not worth it.

It’s…really worth it.

“Actually… Would you, by any chance, know where I could find a heliotrope?”

“Is there a particular reason you’re in need of one?”

“It’s for Floyd.”

“For me?” he mocks, tone high and nasally, while he leans in close.

“Yes, for you.” You poke his chest, pushing him away from you. His smile widens. “Heliotropes mean your love will last forever.”

“Aw. Shrimpy wants forever love with me. Ain’t that adorable!”

“Do you…want that with me?”

“Course I do. You don’t need some silly flower to prove it, y’know. ’Sides, flowers aren’t eternal. It’s gonna wilt eventually. What kinda flower can’t last as long as the thing it symbolizes?” Floyd grasps your chin, tilts your head towards him, and captures your lips in a chaste kiss. When he pulls away, you’re still processing it. “Morays aren’t the monogamous type. Some are. Like my Mama and Pops.”

“O-Oh. Is that… Does that mean…” He kissed me. Again. Floyd kissed me. “W-What about you?”

Floyd peers at you, smirking mischievously, and within seconds he’s plucked the book from out of your hands. “Take a guess.” He slinks away before you can settle on one, laughing as he goes. “S’not a hard one!”

By the time he’s turned the corner, obscured by the foliage, it occurs to you he’s taken your book. Gasping, you hurry after him, not at all offended with his thievery. Rather, when you spot him on the other side of a row of vegetable plants and he challenges you with his typical come-and-get-me look, your heart fattens with adoration, on the verge of imploding like a grand star in a dusky outer space.

It plays out much like a fantastical dream, only this time the distance isn’t as harrowing, and you manage to catch up to him after he takes you all around the botanical garden, giggling the entire way. If you were sweating before, you’re drenched now, but it’s worth it to capture him in an embrace. The hug is short-lived, for you pull away in hopes of cooling down and catching your breath. While you do that, Floyd fumbles with something. He’s cutting a cluster of blossoms with pruning shears.

He offers the flower with his trademark theatrics. “Ta-da! One heliotrope for Shrimpy.”

Gathering yourself, you admire the flower held between his fingers, resisting the urge to cheer. “It’s very pretty. Thank you.”

“Not as pretty as Shrimpy.” Gingerly, he tucks it behind your ear. “Anyone ever tell ya your eyes get reeeal big when you’re happy?”

“Oh. Um. N-No…”

He leans down to your height, beaming sincerely. “Now ya know.”

“Yeah…” Delicately, you run your fingertips over the violet cutting, your whisper swelling with joy. “Now I know.”

Floyd watches you pet it, abnormally still. You’re so used to seeing him fidget when he’s forced to linger in place, a creature unable to restrain his energy for even a moment, that it’s almost uncanny when he stands straight as a board. A large hand, encased in a gardener’s glove, reaches for you and you don’t have the foresight to meet him halfway. Instead, he awkwardly pats your shoulder, seemingly unsure of where to place his hand after it started moving towards you.

“If we were together, I’d give you more than a flower.”

For a minute you think you hear Jade’s deeper intonation slip through. His hand slides down the length of your arm, and his fingers interlace with yours. His stare, filled with forlorn longing, pins you in place. His hands fit seamlessly in yours, as if they were intended to all along. Rather hastily, you slide the gloves off to rid him of his fabric barrier. Smooth, soft digits entwine with yours next. Floyd shuffles closer, caging you between himself and a metal workbench.

“You don’t have to! A flower’s more than enough for me.”

“No, it ain’t. You deserve so much more.”

“Then…” Your breath hitches when he slots his knee between your legs. Nimble fingers slide under your blouse, palming at your stomach. “What would you give me?”

“Everythin’. Whatever ya want. I’d never let ya be sad or lonely again.” He noses your collarbone, sighing moonily. “I’d give you an entire garden of heliotropes if it means you’ll never look at anyone else ever again.” As if realizing something, he sighs, clears his throat, and adds, “I want ya so fuckin’ bad, Shrimpy. I just want you to be happy.”

You reach to pat his head, and he seems to preen at your touch. “I… I feel the same. I…”

I love you.

Floyd’s fingers dance beneath your clothes, mapping every inch of skin as if he’s trying to commit it to memory. He’s slowly rutting against you, his breath hot in your ears. Perhaps it’s the humidity, but you feel dizzy in his embrace, lost in a lustful haze.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he confesses, roughly tugging your bra down until your breasts spill free. He cradles them in strong hands. “Always thought about it when I saw ya sittin’ pretty in class.”

You blink. It’s not a dream. He’s touching you. You blink again for good measure. It’s still not a dream.

“Do what?” A dumb question. You know what he means, but you wish to hear it right from his mouth.

“Kissin’ and touchin’. Ya have no idea how many times I wanted to pull ya into an empty classroom and just…” His teeth graze your pulse, tasting the stuttering beat beneath. “Make a mess of ya.”

“What… What was stopping you?”

“Didn’t think you’d feel the same,” he mumbles, nipping at your throat. When he speaks next, it’s in an octave lower, and he’s lost Floyd’s whimsical vocality. “So I would content myself with observing you in secret. You never noticed I was there, but I saw you. Every single day at every hour, studying tirelessly in the library or sharing a meal with your friends at the cafeteria…” He twists your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, prompting a shuddering gasp from you. “You’re captivating when you exist in oblivion.”

That…doesn’t sound like something Floyd would say.

“Floyd, wait…”

He pulls away to look at you and his pupils are blown impossibly wide, almost as if he’s high off the scent of you, the warmth of your skin under his palms as they wander lower, and the daring thrill of exhibitionism. He seems to snap out of his trance moments later when he offers you a toothy grin. You chew your lip, uncertain.

What was that all about? Looking pretty when I’m oblivious? Watching me in secret?

“All good?” His fingers curl into the waistband of your uniform pants, and for a moment you wish you were wearing a skirt so he’d have easier access.

Feebly, you nod, your every nerve alight with an insatiable yearning. “I’m okay.”

Maybe I misunderstood him. Maybe this is how Floyd flirts.

“Promise?” One hand massages your hip, enticing you to agree.

You pull him in so that your bodies can connect. He hums at the contact, whether in pleasure or approval you can’t tell. “I promise,” you whisper, abandoning logic to breathe him in like he’s the worst kind of addiction. A fatal temptation, but it’s impossible to stop when you’ve come this far.

Floyd giggles and resumes his fondling, closing his hands around your breasts. You whine your grief, mourning the loss of his lingering touch on your waist. Although a deeper part of you is relieved he didn’t stray further in his exploration. Had he done so, you wouldn’t have had the sensible conscience to stop him. You almost direct his touch downwards, but instead your hands grab at his face to drag him up and away from your neck. He fills in what’s left of the space between the both of you, capturing your lips in a searing smooch. This time, rather than flailing about foolishly, you hold him still, savoring the sloppy exchange of breath and saliva. He licks into your mouth, chasing your tongue, and though it isn’t a competition you let him overpower you.

Victory hangs in the air, but you’re not sure which of you has won.

It’s everything you could have ever coveted from Floyd: a saccharine, movie-esque moment in the middle of a flowering garden. For this singular moment, he’s all yours. Your star only has eyes for you and he’s all over you, unable to keep his hands to himself as he ruts his hips in time with yours, panting against your mouth as if you’re the only oxygen source to be found at the bottom of the sea. His touch is firm and gentle all at once, hungrily impatient, and when he kisses you it’s as if he does so with the intention that this may be the last chance he’ll ever have.

Without much forethought, you fumble with the buttons on your blouse, undoing two more so that he may slide it from your shoulders to reveal the oh-so-inviting bareness of your neck.

You catch his face in your hands, eyes narrowed with an unspoken threat. Mind where you bite.

He reads you loud and clear, for he flashes his teeth at you and places one of his hands over yours, his entire body rumbling with laughter. “Why not?”

“Because,” you hiss, shaking your head.

“Then I won’t bite.”

“But…”

“If ya don’t want it, don’t ask for it.”

“Floyd—” His lips brush against your skin and you shiver. “Please…”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p.’ Rather than bite marks, open-mouthed kisses pepper your skin. “Next time.”

You intend to object, to plead that you want nothing more than to be bloodied with bites, but he’s drawing all sorts of sinful sounds from the depths of your throat and it’s impossible to voice your disappointment when pleasure’s quickly taking over. You grab his chin and smash your mouth against his instead, determined to out-kiss him—if such a thing is even possible. Floyd giggles, invigorated with the challenge you’ve initiated, and angles his head to kiss you more deeply.

It makes up for the lack of bites, you tell yourself, and the outlandish assurance soothes you. With the way he’s breathing into you as if you’re his lifeline, a buoy floating on rocky waves, he’s shamelessly unslakable. But then so are you when you nip at his tongue, taking it in your mouth until your chest is begging for reprieve, unable to compete with the lung capacity of merman. His hands are still roaming and you mirror his actions, clumsily unbuttoning his lab coat and pulling it from his person. Floyd would never dress so neatly, every button buttoned and tie tied expertly, but you ignore this detail in favor of receiving another starved kiss from him.

Your hands drift lower until they’ve settled over the strain in his pants. Momentarily, you hesitate, your heart collapsing into your stomach.

This is real. He’s actually… Because of this, Floyd is… You swallow thickly and palm it carefully. Floyd groans low in your ear. He bucks against your hand to force friction.

“You’re so cute,” you murmur, tracing the outline with your fingertip, wickedly cruel in your tentative, experimental petting. “All of that from a little—” you put on his voice next, a poor mimic— “kissin’ and touchin,’ huh?”

“S’not nice when you…tempt—ah, tease me…” He shakes his head, stumbling over Floyd’s trademark drawl. He buries his face in your shoulder, gasping when you apply just a little more pressure. “Shrimpy’s so meeean, makin’ me wait for it.”

You giggle and run your fingers through the sturgeon scales hanging from his ear. The disturbance has them clicking against one another. His earring’s in the wrong place, but for today it’s right. So right.

Your lips part in a frenetic smile. Oh, how you adore him.

“Sorry, sorry. I won’t be mean.”

Led onwards by lustful impatience, you reach between your bodies to undo the zip on his trousers. Floyd sighs again, as if your touch is the greatest relief, when you squeeze him through the fabric of his boxers. You’ve always theorized how big he might be, but now that you’re finally approximating his length you’re wondering how you’ll ever fit all of him. The delicious fantasy of a filthy struggle—of trembling around him as he eases himself inside, filling you up thick inch by thick inch—renders your temperature volcanic.

“About moray—” You inhale sharply when he rolls his hips, and the last of your restraint rots away. With your tongue tucked between your teeth, you concentrate on massaging the bulge between his legs with newly restored confidence. “Moray courtship…”

“Mm, yeah… What about it?” His voice quivers against your mouth, wet and wanton.

“What’s it like?”

“Ah. Well… Hah…” He slows his fervent humping and presses his forehead to yours to look you in the eyes. “I’d bring ya lotsa stuff. Food and shiny treasures and—haa… And I’d pretty up the cave. Protect ya from predators. Keep ya comfy and content.”

You imagine Floyd dutifully prowling the perimeter of your shared living space, all taut, lean muscle, senses on high alert, while you remain swathed in soothing shadows. The fantasy is so vivid in your mind that you almost reach out, fingers chasing the distant delusion of a Floyd who loves you more than he’s ever loved anyone. Instead, you grasp the phony. His hands are on your waist, steadying you, and you embrace him like he’s the lover you’ll never have.

“And you’d never leave me?”

“Never. Not once. Not ever.” The promise is made between kisses, each more pleasurable than the last. It sets your entire body aflame with an intoxicating exultation. Tears prick your eyes. “I’ll stay with ya forever, Shrimpy.”

“But what if someone else—”

He places a finger to your lips, silencing what’s left of your doubt. “I don’t want someone else. You’re all I’ll ever want, so there’s no need to worry about things that will never come to pass.” A smile adorns his features next and he slides his finger down your lips to trace your jawline. You sigh at his touch. It’s everything and nothing. Too much and too little. Everlasting and fleeting. “You’re always gonna be my Shrimpy, ya got that? No one else can have ya. Promise me.”

Your face aches from smiling so much, but this time you can’t help it. Those words, coupled with his actions, renew your once-dampened, self-conscious spirit. You drink him in, doing away with hesitation.

“I promise, Floyd. I’m all yours.”

There’s a spark of something sad in his eyes then, but it passes like a short sunshower, swallowed up in a sea of salacity. You fail to take note of it when you’re so busy stroking him through his boxers, imprisoned by the magnetic force of attraction that’s settled between the both of you. He hums his appreciation, sliding his hands up the expanse of your stomach to squeeze your chest. You can’t seem to keep yourself off of him for more than a minute, pulling him into you for more of everything. More friction. More kisses. More connection.

More. More. More.

The steamy press of his mouth to yours is prurient, teeth clicking against teeth and warring tongues, but it’s so addictive. You wish to remain like this forever, savoring kisses and exchanging tender touches. Everything about this version of Floyd matches the one you’ve spent countless nights picturing. You feel enshrouded in cotton when he grinds helplessly into your hand to chase a mounting climax. It’s all you’ve ever wanted to experience—a physical culmination of real, raw love.

Floyd’s pace is frenzied now, and he’s chanting how good you feel like it’s the gospel. He’s close; you can sense it, see it, hear it in the way he gasps and groans. His fingers dig into your sides, just beneath your ribs, to keep himself anchored as he rests his head on your shoulder. His eyes flutter shut, lips parting slightly to reveal the pointed beginnings of his razored teeth, and with just a few more touches and gyrations he shudders through his orgasm.

He’s almost boneless in your arms when he resurfaces, lips pursed in a tight line. His face is flushed scarlet, a rare vibrancy you’ve never seen on the face of Jade Leech.

That’s right. It’s Jade you did all of that with. Jade. Not Floyd. Jade.

But it felt like Floyd.

“You good?” You offer him a warm smile when his eyes flutter open.

He leans into you and then slowly retracts himself. “Ah. Yes… Yes, I’m all right now. Forgive me for getting so carried away.”

You follow the direction he’s looking at to your hand, which is still pressed to his boxers and is sticky with his spend as it seeps through the fabric. Embarrassment trickles down your spine.

“O-Oh! Sorry. I… Um, let me just…” Eyes darting elsewhere, you yank your hand away, intending to wipe it on your pant leg. Your attempt at a carefree chuckle sticks in your throat when he grasps it instead. “Uh, Jade?”

He holds your gaze with startling intensity. For the few moments that pass between both of you, you assume he’s still playing Floyd, but there’s something about his mannerisms that tells you otherwise. He’s distrait, distant, dazed—whatever you choose to call it—and he’s studying you as if you’ve just hung the stars in his sky.

What’s he looking at? Is there something on my face?

“I never understood why Floyd calls you Little Shrimpy,” he whispers, curling his fingers around yours. “You’re more than a tiny, trifling shrimp. To me, you are the moon—hypnotically radiant, a pretty pearl in a pitch-black sea—capable of influencing the very ocean I reside in. And like an enchanted tide heeding the moon’s call—like a fisherman mesmerized by a siren’s lullaby—I’m drawn in by your beauty and brilliance.” He leans close, breath fanning across your lips. “I exist to revolve around you. To drown in you. Forever.”

You stare at him.

It’s all you can do. Stare and pretend you aren’t stunned by this revelation—like it didn’t just sap all of the oxygen from the air. What is he talking about? You’d expect something like this from Rook, who’s known to wax poetry as easily as he breathes. But Jade? Sure, he’s eloquent, but even he wouldn’t say something so…

What’s the right word to describe it? It’s not cheesy; you don’t think so, at least. It’s not heartwarming either. You feel like he might wheedle you into a scheme if you’re readily receptive to his flowery adulation. It’s nice to be compared to the moon, though. But then the moon is forever out of reach, unobtainable for a merman like Jade, who can only ever observe from the sea. It’s a love birthed from the yearning of a gap that can never and will never be closed.

You’re thankful it’s hot in here, otherwise your embarrassment would have been explosively obvious.

“Jade, do you like—”

“Jaaade, you there?”

Upon hearing the real Floyd, the tendrils of the fantasy you once entangled yourself in snap. And amidst the fragments, a dozen anxieties come rushing forth. Hastily, you push Jade away and shove his rumpled lab coat at him. Fear-laced adrenaline has you struggling with the buttons on your blouse. He doesn’t seem nearly as panicked as you currently are, merely hugging his coat to his chest and watching you, smitten beyond sanity.

“Hide!” you hiss, smoothing the wrinkles in your shirt and then cursing when you realize you’ve missed a button. There’s no time to fix it. “Hurry! Before he finds out—”

“Before who finds out?” Floyd whips around the corner just as Jade vanishes from sight. You miss the way he grips his magic pen in a tight fist, pupils blown with a crazed sort of excitement. You’re equal parts relieved and grateful for his swift reflexes, but you’re more grateful for Floyd’s interruption. You weren’t interested in knowing the answer to your half-spoken inquiry. “Ah! It’s Shrimpy! Whatcha doin’ talkin’ to yourself?”

“F-Floyd, hey! Hi! I… I’m just looking around for…flowers.” You smile, full set of teeth on display despite your disheveled and mildly panicked appearance.

Did he hear us? Did he see us? Please tell me he didn’t. Please. Please. Please.

Floyd’s eyes rove over your too-tense form. He leans in close, and you jerk away with a nervous chuckle. His nose wrinkles, and then a curious smile pulls at his lips. You’re certain that can’t be good.

“What… What’s up?”

“Ya smell like Jade.” He’s gazing at your ear now and it dawns on you that the heliotrope is still snugly tucked there. “Didja see him?”

“What? No!” The look he gives you next is so skeptical you almost kick yourself. “I mean, not today I haven’t…” Swallowing another uncomfortable laugh, you remove the flower from its current resting place and crush it in a tight fist. The limp petals flutter to the ground when you release them from your hold. “Maybe it’s my perfume! I… I bought a new one, so I’ve been wearing it a lot lately.”

“Mhm… Perfume,” he muses, grinning up to his ears, his thumbs hooked casually in his pockets.

You’re a bad liar, you scold yourself, ashamed.

“Anyway, why’re you looking for Jade? I can pass on a message if I happen to run into him.”

“Could ya? Thanks, Shrimpy,” he says, pulling away to give you space. “Azul’s been on my tail about him all day. Super annoyin’ with it. Says he needs Jade at the lounge cuz it’s busy or somethin’.”

You intend to say, “So why not go in his place?” but then you realize something unusual.

“Hold on. Is Jade skipping work?”

Floyd shrugs. “Dunno. Jade never skips anythin’ important. He’s got a schedule he follows, y’know? Real diligent.”

“And I’m assuming the lounge is a big part of that schedule?”

“Prolly.”

Then why was he here in the gardens? Did he lose track of time? It’s an impossible thought; you fail to trick yourself into believing it. No, Jade would never.

“Oh. O-Okay…” You fidget in place while Floyd continues to look at you. He rocks back and forth on his heels, seemingly waiting for you to speak up. A minute stretches between the both of you. “Um… Is that it?”

He gazes past you then, at the spot where you’re certain Jade’s standing. “Yep. S’all I wanted to say. If ya see Jade, let him know Azul’s lookin’ for him.” He turns around, pauses, and then looks over his shoulder at you. “Your new perfume’s lame. Ya gotta get a nicer scent.”

And then he’s disappearing into the foliage, shaded under wide, full boughs. You stand stupefied and replay his words in a loop. Out of every detail gleaned, the strangest was Floyd’s claim that you smelled like Jade. You feel foolish for dwelling on it, but it’s starting to eat through your organs with its implications and now all sorts of questions are sparking in your brain. Why would Floyd pick up on your scent? Was he being truthful, or was that intended to make you squirm with discomfort? Is it an unpleasant sort of smell? Does he mean to say you smell salty like the sea because that’s where Jade’s from? But what does Jade even smell like? With the reluctance of a cat near water, you raise your wrist to your nose and inhale deeply.

I’m not wearing any perfume…

Groaning, you bury your face in your hands next.

And I forgot to give him the heliotrope.

You spin around just as a patch of Jade becomes visible, pieces of his figure slowly gaining clarity as the effects of the illusory spell fade. Neither of you says anything, opting to decode the message on the other’s face. You think about crossing the distance to scold him in close proximity, if only to break the thickening tension, but that urge falls away as soon as it comes.

“Do you think he knows?”

“It’s possible. Mages can always sense magic, even the smallest of spells. At the very least, he was aware a third party was here.”

“So you weren’t really invisible then.”

“Physically, yes. It only works on those who neglect to notice or aren’t adept in spellcasting.” He slides his arms into the sleeves of his lab coat, gracefully unruffled. “I thought I’d spare you the chagrin if I made myself scarce. Unless you wanted Floyd to know, in which case I’ll be more than delighted to divulge our secret affair.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. And don’t call it that! It’s just convenient that you’re his twin and can do a good impression. Convenient, okay?”

“Conveniently an affair. Or should we settle for ‘dalliance’ instead? How about mutualism? Partnership? Which do you prefer?”

You rub calming circles into your temples. By the Great Seven, he’ll annoy you to death before you can even confess. You’re buzzing with irritation, but it’s not directed at Jade. Instead, you’re frustrated with your failure. You let Floyd leave. You had an entire conversation going and it fell apart because you sent him away. Because you just had to ask if that was all he needed from you. On top of that, it’s blisteringly hot in here and Floyd said you reek of Jade; and you’re not even wearing any perfume, and you probably smell and look so gross; and your nonstop sweating might be ruining your makeup and—

“(Name)?”

“What?” It’s harsh on your tongue, a demand rather than a question. He offers you a handkerchief. You stare at the pristine, frilly white blur clutched between his fingers. “I’m fine. I don’t need your sympathy. In fact, I don’t want it.”

And then the first tear traces a line down your cheek.

“Oh. Um. Hold on.” You wipe it away with your wrist, sniffling as you do so. “Fuck, I’m a mess. This is the worst. I can’t even… I can’t do anything right. I had the perfect opportunity to ask him or…talk to him—say anything I wanted, change the subject—I don’t know! And I… I blew it. I completely r-ruined it and now he thinks I smell like you, but we’re not even together like that and if he thinks I’m taken I’ll never have a chance!”

“I understand how devastating it must feel, but you shouldn’t let that discourage—”

You swat him and the handkerchief away when he takes a step closer. “Stop. Just…stop. You don’t understand. You have no idea how it feels. Don’t act like you do.”

Jade hesitates, opens his mouth, and then shuts it.

“I love him, Jade. I love him so much, but I don’t know where to start. It sucks. I feel so lost. And… And he said I smelled like you! Does he think I have a bad scent? Am I really that terrible?” You wipe at the onslaught of unstoppable tears and hiccup through a blubbery sob. “O-Or am I boring? Is that it? If I smell like you, does that mean I have a boring smell? But then it was my fault for ending the conversation. And then… And I didn’t even get to give him the flower…”

“You’re far from boring, (Name).”

“But I must be if Floyd—”

“I disagree.”

“You’re just saying that because you can. Because you’re not Floyd.”

“But I know Floyd, and Floyd only returns to those he deems fun or fulfilling. Furthermore, if he thought you smelled bad he would have said so, unfiltered and brutally honest. As one of his most devout admirers, this should be beginner’s knowledge for you.”

“I know. I know. I—” You pause, brows furrowing, and suddenly it isn’t so heart-wrenching anymore. “You’re right, actually.”

“See? There’s no need to sully your pretty visage with tears and snot. It was just one interaction. There are many more to come, surely.” He snips a new heliotrope from the bush and holds it out to you. “If not the handkerchief, will you accept this and try again?”

You stare at the cutting, shakily taking it. A wet, weak laugh forces itself from the constrictive confines of your throat. “Yes, Jade,” you mutter, scrubbing the salt from your eyes. “Yes, I’ll try again.”

He smiles, but it isn’t duplicitous. “Please don’t let me keep you any longer.”

“W-Wait, you meant now?”

“Well, I certainly didn’t mean tomorrow or next week.”

“Be quiet, smart-ass.”

“You say that and yet you’ve started smiling. What happened to ‘I’m the worst’ and ‘I ruined my chances’?”

Flustered, you slap your hand over your mouth to curb your growing grin. “I’m not smiling! It wasn’t funny! I… I’m still upset!” You back away on quick feet, ducking around the corner with a final, “I’m still the worst! A total failure!”

Jade laughs into his fist, savoring the fleeting sounds of your soles upon the concrete. As if coming down from a miraculous high, he allows his short-lived joy to ebb away. Sadness soon sets in when he glances at the scattered petals on the ground, and he can only hope the new heliotrope won’t meet the same wilted fate as its predecessor. He’s just about to gather them when you pop into sight once more, your chest heaving as if you just ran a grueling race. He stares at you, a single brow raised. Suddenly, feeling glum is the last thing on his mind.

“Back so soon?”

“I—” you huff, gathering both your thoughts and breath— “I forgot…to give you…a message!”

“Oh?”

“Azul needs you at the lounge.” You wipe sweat from your brow, rushing through the words. “And just so you know—skipping work doesn’t really seem like your style, but it’s not a bad change of pace for you. I kinda like rebellious, sweets-loving Jade who’s greedy for both land and sea. Can’t say Azul will agree, though.”

For once he doesn’t seem to have a clever retort at the ready. But that doesn’t matter because you’re already bounding away, light on your feet as if you’ve just won a lottery. Maybe you have and it’s the premise of a second chance that has you feeling so filled with luck. Jade shakes his head at the foolishness of it all, his close-lipped smile widening.

If anyone’s won anything today, it’s him. But despite this, it feels far more empty than he imagined it would.

You’re humming as you skip along, tracing the path you’re certain Floyd traveled. With the heliotrope clutched in your hand, you dry what’s left of the tears in your puffy eyes and hurry along. You won’t mess up this time. You’re going to give him the flower and then!

Your gait slows to an abrupt halt. And then… And then what? You’ll have to say something else. You can’t just wordlessly bestow a flower to the love of your life and think that’s enough. Great Seven, you’re not even prepared!

For a small, vulnerable second you consider turning back and returning to Jade to get his opinion on this predicament. He knows Floyd best; he’d have plenty of advice. But you don’t want to face him. Not after everything that happened. Reminders of your intimacy with him creep in like an intrusive thought, overwhelming with its lewd imagery. You can’t believe you allowed it to go that far—to stray into a territory you’ve never navigated before. Kissing is one thing. Working Jade towards his orgasm is another.

There’s a bingo card for this, surely. An invisible one you’re steadily marking off as you go: Kissing with Jade? Check. Feeling certain assets below the belt? Check. Being compared to a celestial body, which is arguably the most romantic thing anyone’s ever told you in all of the years you’ve lived your life? That’s oddly specific, but it’s on the card. Check.

It’s a bingo card for a mutually beneficial partnership. Not the kind for a pair of lovers. Definitely not.

You’d mourn your inability to draw significant boundaries if it weren’t for the fraction of yourself that hungers for the attention, drinking it in like it’s a frosty glass of water on a humid night. It’s wrong to fool yourself over and over—inane, even. Why would you subject yourself to this torture if you know what waits for you at the end of this: heartbreak at the hands of delusion? You shouldn’t use Jade like this either. That’s also wrong, but he’s so accessible. So willing to indulge you. It’s a fair trade. A fair game. No one gets hurt. No one wins and no one loses.

But then fairness is never promised in a trade with Jade—with anyone from Octavinelle, really. You fall into the especially desperate souls category and so your situation is very different from those who look for easy academic cheats or social hacks.

Shaking your head, you free yourself of these thoughts, pushing each one aside as if wading through murky water, and trudge onwards. There’s no point in dwelling on what’s already happened.

It’s not even real intimacy, you remind yourself, hardening your heart. It’s just physical. We both agreed to help each other. He’ll role-play as Floyd and we’ll go from there. It’s Jade who’s being weird with his silver tongue and stupid poetry.

“The moon, huh…” you mutter, twirling the heliotrope between your fingers. “That’s a first…”

Nice try, Jade. A few hollow compliments aren’t going to convince me to be gentler when I rate your mushroom dishes.

Your feet take you across the bridge, leaving the botanical garden and the alchemy workshop far behind, to the cobbles that extend past the Hall of Mirrors and towards a stone staircase. You take each step one at a time until you’re standing in front of the Mystery Shop. Surprisingly enough—or maybe it’s not because you were hoping for this—Floyd’s there, leaning against a tree trunk and scrolling on his phone. Your arrival seems to pull him from whatever was occupying him on his screen, for he glances up at you.

You shake off every nerve that tightens at the premise of interacting with him. Pretend he’s Jade. I talk to Jade just fine, so maybe if I can just—

Floyd kicks off from the tree, falling into a lazy step that looks more like a slither as he crosses the distance to get to you. Or maybe you’re paying too much attention to his legs. Either way, he’s standing in front of you now, his phone pocketed and arm outstretched. You follow the length of it, taking notice of the gift bag that hangs from his grasp like bait on a fishing lure.

He’s not shifty like Jade, you think. Okay, maybe he’s a little shifty. But he means well! Most of the time…

“Is… Is this for me?”

Floyd nods and shakes it. “Gonna open it?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Shrimpy’s askin’ lotsa questions.”

“Because Floyd is acting suspicious. What have I done that would make you buy something for me?”

“What if I wanna treat Shrimpy? S’nothing wrong with a little somethin’ every now and then, yeah? I think you’ll like it.”

“That doesn’t sound very comforting…”

“C’mon. Just open it.” He presses it into your hand. “Trust me.”

You roll your eyes, a smile playing at your lips. Pushy just like his brother.

“I trust you.” Cautiously, you stick your hand inside and withdraw a pink box patterned with red swirls. In looping script, the words Cherry Crush are printed. You almost drop the heliotrope in your excitement, and you tear the box open to get to the bottle that rests within. “No way!” You look at Floyd. He confirms your disbelief with a grin. “For me? Seriously? Really?”

“Who else? Course it’s for you.” He tilts his head, watching you a little too closely. “You like it?”

“Wait, I haven’t even put it on yet!” The cap comes off and you spritz some on your wrist. Waving it around so it’ll dry faster, you feel yourself break out into a dumb smile. “Yes, I do like it. A lot. Thank you.”

“No prob. I’m glad,” he says, pronouncing it in a hum. “You like smellin’ sweet, so I got ya somethin’ sweet.”

You catch a sugary whiff and sigh, wholly satisfied. It’s perfect, everything you could’ve ever wanted, and you hope it washes away whatever scent Floyd had previously detected on you. If love smells like Cherry Crush perfume, you never want to fall out of it.

“Oh, speaking of that, I actually got you something, too.”

“Gonna take a guess and say it’s that flower you’ve got.”

“Yeah! I picked one from the botanical garden. It’s a heliotrope.”

Floyd takes it from you, turns it over in his hand, and whistles. “Pretty. Why’s it for me? It looked nicer in your hair.”

Your skin prickles as the memories spring forth.

“Oh. Uh, that… I think it would look much prettier in a vase or something…”

“Mm, nah.”

The once freely flowing conversation halts. You kick yourself for putting yourself in a corner. Why is it so challenging to keep a chat going? With Jade, you could go for hours, bickering and bantering about the smallest details. With Floyd, it feels like you have to carve your insides out just to keep him engaged. But if that’s what it takes, you’ll do it. Anything for Floyd.

“I think it might look pretty in your hair.”

“You think so?”

“Y-Yeah! I mean, purple is such a beautiful color and it matches Octavinelle’s aesthetic. You could even wear it as a pin. Oh, but you’d have to make it into one first. Or you could tuck the stem into the breast pocket on your uniform! That might work best.”

Floyd chuckles. “Shrimpy’s really into this, huh?”

“Oh. Ah. Um… It’s only a suggestion.”

“You like flowers then?”

Mutely, you nod. You can taste your heartbeat in your mouth—frantic and metallic. Or maybe you’ve bitten the inside of your cheek in the midst of your hasty ramblings and it’s the river of blood filling your mouth that you mistake for a heartbeat. Either way, you want nothing more than to curl up in the soil and disappear forever.

“You should see ’em in the Coral Sea. It’s real nice down there. Lotsa flowers and plants and stuff.”

“Oh, I’ve actually seen some of them before! When we went to the Coral Sea to get that photograph from that museum, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” He giggles at the recollection. “Good times.”

“You gave us a proper fright. You and Jade. Slippery eels…”

“Had fun doin’ it, too.”

You snort when he flashes his teeth at you, not apologetic in the slightest. “I’m sure you did.”

Again, the conversation glides to a halt. Floyd seems content to stand and stare, and it pains you that you must, once again, direct him towards something interesting.

“Um, Floyd, I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure thing. Shoot.”

“Well… Um, I don’t know if you like baking or anything—or maybe you’ve never tried it—but I was thinking… Actually, since you’re here, I thought that we might be able to… No, sorry. I meant, since we ran into each other, wouldn’t it be fun if—oh, wait! About my interview! Yeah, that. Is… Is it possible I could get another interview?”

If there was a competition to see how many times you could bumble in front of Floyd, you’d take first place and you’d still feel like a loser.

“Mm, I dunno. You’ll have to talk to Azul about it.”

“Then could I talk to him now?”

Floyd nods and steps ahead. He doesn’t look back to check if you’re following, and while you drag yourself behind him poisonous thoughts dig into your skull, threatening to split it open and infect the squishy brain matter beneath.

Why can’t I just ask him what I really want? I said all of those embarrassing things to Jade without any problems. So why can’t I say it to Floyd?

“Shrimpy’s so set on workin’ at the lounge. Why’s that?”

“I need to fill my resume,” you lie.

Floyd nods. You hurry to match his stride, lest he leave you and your crumbling heart behind. “I getcha.”

“Do you know why Azul won’t hire me?”

“Cuz ya don’t have much experience workin’.”

“Hey! I have lots of experience! Azul’s missing out on a very good worker, I’ll have you know.”

“Sure he is.”

“What would you do—if you were the boss, I mean?”

“Hire ya. Then it’ll get a lot more fun in the lounge.”

You finally fall into step beside him, your eyes wide with wonder. “Really? You think I’d be a fun coworker?”

“Yeah, totally.”

Your grip on the bag tightens, courage filling you at once. He thinks I’m fun…

For all of his boasting about being accessible and willing to listen to everyone’s troubles, Azul is unimpressed when Floyd drops you off at his VIP room. Your beloved eel winks just as you step inside, offering you a sing-song, “Good luck,” before slinking off. You were confident for all of ten seconds, but then the door closes and you’re left with Azul, who looks very unwilling to hear you out; and suddenly your not-so-rehearsed speech doesn’t seem so foolproof anymore.

He doesn’t flinch when you rush him and slam your hands upon his desk. In fact, you don’t think he even looks up to acknowledge your boisterous presence, too engrossed in a stack of documents to even bother.

“Azul, you have to hire me! Please give me one chance. I won’t let you down. I’ll do everything you ask!”

“This again?”

“I’m serious. I want to work here.”

“Jade tells me otherwise.”

“What? That I’m not serious?”

“I’d hazard an assumption that you’re more serious about Floyd than you are about contributing to the lounge.”

You gasp, offended, to which Azul rolls his eyes, foregoing his usual lofty decorum. “That is…very true, yes. But I’ll work hard, and I’ll show up on time. I’ll even sign a contract! Please, Azul, I’ll do anything. I need this job.”

He hums, unconvinced. “You do realize it’s not guaranteed you’ll become any closer to Floyd than you already are.”

“I know.” You gaze at the perfume box resting within the bag. There’s hope. “But… But I’m not going to give up. I’ll keep pestering you about interviews until the end of your days.”

Sensing an in, Azul straightens the documents, sets them on his desk, and gazes at you. The atmosphere shifts in an instant with his newly stoked interest, or perhaps he’s feigned apathy all along just to see how far you’ll lower yourself.

“As it happens, there is an open position, if you’d be interested in hearing more.”

“Go on…”

“If hired, you’d join my staff as a waitress. We could use the extra help when the foot traffic peaks, and since you appear genuinely motivated—as wildly misplaced as this motivation may be—I could consider giving you the job.”

“Wait, seriously? You’d hire me?”

“Only if you work as you’ve so dutifully claimed you will.”

“I will! I’m not lying about that.”

“If you were so desperate, you could have looked to Sam for a job. The Mystery Shop is always hiring.”

“But it doesn’t have Floyd.”

“Of course. One-track as ever… Well, if you’re truly so determined, let me ask you something.”

Danger thickens in the air when you spy his sticky smile, but if Azul is all who stands between you and Floyd you’ll take the risk.

“I’m only listening if you’re going to be honest. No strings.”

“Why, that smarts, (Name)! And I thought we were thick as thieves!”

“Not as thick as your delusion, no.”

“How rude. Is that any way to speak to your future employer and boss?”

“We’re getting distracted. What did you want to ask me?”

Azul tuts. “Ever the impatient one. If you must know, I’d like to ask if you’d be willing to make a deal.”

“Yes. Absolutely. Whatever it takes.”

He’s thrown somewhat off course at your readiness. But before you can take his momentary hesitation and twist the conversation in your favor, he recovers with an admirable level of poise. With an airy chuckle, he plucks his magic pen from his breast pocket and swishes it in an elegant motion. A contract scroll, its contents written in perfect cursive, materializes within seconds. You stare at it, mesmerized by the aureate shimmer.

“The terms are fairly simple. You’ll work your hours as scheduled. You’re permitted to turn to Floyd for guidance so long as you remain focused on the task at hand. I’ll even align your schedule with his if it pleases, but I can’t make any promises that he’ll show up for his appointed shifts. He’s mercurial, you see, but you’re likely aware of this.”

You nod, soaking in the information like a rapacious sponge. “And? What’s the catch?”

“The catch,” he says, eyeing you with predatory intent, “is that you’ll have every opportunity to prove to me that your work ethic is as authentic as you say it is. Fail thrice and you’ll lose your job and, consequently, your chance at currying favor with Floyd.”

“That’s all? Sounds oddly safe coming from you.”

“Oh, did you think I was finished?” He chuckles and withdraws a vial from his desk drawer. The colorless liquid inside the glass sloshes when he sets it down.

“What’s that?”

“A potion.”

“I know that. I mean, what’s it supposed to be a potion for? Is it a love potion?” You gasp and hurry to snatch it from the desk. Azul beats you to it, levitating it out of your reach with a swish of his magic pen. “Seriously, what is it? I’ll drink it if that’s what you want, but I need to know what I’m working with.”

“It’s meant for you, yes. I’ll need you to add part of yourself to the mixture and let it sit for, say, a few minutes. Three should suffice. Then you’ll be free to drink it.”

“What should I add?”

“Let me phrase it this way—what are you most comfortable drinking? Blood? Saliva? Something else?”

Your face falls and he laughs. “That doesn’t sound appetizing whatsoever.”

“Most potions never are, but this one is special.”

“Special how?”

“A lady of many questions, aren’t you?”

“Forgive me for being cautious, but you’re a man of many tricks and lies. Can you blame me for being suspicious?”

“If that’s the case, shall I call Floyd in here and have him give you the overview? Would that ease your worries?”

“Absolu—wait, no. No, not at all. I’m focused on working!” You open your palm to receive the fishbone pen he offers, its tip already submerged in pitch-black ink. “Work is in my brain. Not Floyd. I promise.”

“We’ll see.” Azul places the vial on the desk once more, its foggy opacity an unsolved mystery. “To review: You’ll work for me, show me that you’re not just here to follow a fluffy daydream—” his nose scrunches at that phrasing, as if it leaves a foul taste on his tongue— “and in return I shall so graciously provide you with plentiful opportunities to be near Floyd. You’ll also be expected to drink that potion at some point and retrieve a few things while under its effects. More on that at a later date.”

That sounds so suspicious! Is he even hearing himself?

“And if I mess up three times, that’s it? I’m fired?”

“Three strikes and you’re out, as they say.” He smiles and gestures to the contract lying before you, an empty line awaiting a hasty signature. “Do we have a deal?”

You stare between the perfume and the scroll. Exhaling slowly, you steel yourself and scrawl your name in messy script. The dim lighting contorts his enthused features into something devilish. Before you can even think to peruse the contract for its fine print—a trademark of any Azul Ashengrotto contract—the parchment rolls itself up and vanishes in a fantastical poof.

“A pleasure doing business, (Name). Should you find yourself in need yet again, you’re always welcome to consult me any time.”

You almost thank him, but instead you catch yourself and say, “You made me wait on purpose, dragging your decision out so I’d come to you when I was most desperate. You were probably going to hire me all along, weren’t you?”

“Let’s say my considerations have been successfully swayed.”

You roll your eyes, a fiery quip bubbling on your tongue, but a knock at the door draws your attention away from Azul.

“I’ll cook you if you’re playing any tricks,” you threaten before swiping the vial and stuffing it in the bag alongside the perfume. And then you pivot on your heel. “Turn you into something healthy. Like an octopus salad.”

“Oh, anything but that. I’m so terrified.” (He’s not.)

On your way out, you pass Jade. He looks partially surprised to see you, his widened, mismatched hues following you for a long, starstruck moment until Azul squawks at him with an impatient huff. You catch his chiding words just as the door eases shut: “Where have you been all day? I would expect this behavior from Floyd, but never from you.”

Your feet carry you into the busy lounge. Inhaling scents of food and drink, you hold your breath and let your achievement sink in.

I got the job.

It fizzles out of you in a satisfied whistle.

I got the job.

And then you’re jumping up in celebration, punching the air with clenched fists, uncaring that students are turning to scrutinize. “Hell yeah! I got the job! Eat your doubtful, hater words, Jade Leech!”

You whirl towards the VIP room, all smiles and giggles, intending to barge in there and rub your success in his face. But then you take a bewildered pause.

Why do I want to tell him so badly?

Is it worth sharing with Jade? Would he even truly care? Something tells you he would—a tiny, nagging something that’s doing everything it can to convince you of a fact you’ve yet to prove. You think back to the night you spent in the Mostro Lounge kitchen, discussing the differences between land and sea while waiting for the brownies in the oven, and wonder if he was telling the truth when he said he’d choose both options. Maybe he only cares about the amusement and the entertainment and not the sentimentality of following a love across land and sea. He’s sly, a natural sycophant, and so that seems probable and much easier to believe.

Still…

“Ah, forget it!” you hiss, choosing to make your retreat now before you can talk yourself into divulging the good news. He’ll find out soon enough. He doesn’t need to hear it from you, but it would be immensely pleasing to be the one to deliver it.

Floyd is waiting for you in the tunnel that connects the lounge to Octavinelle. Backdropped by swirling blues and marine life, looking like a painter’s finest pièce de résistance, he slinks over to meet you halfway.

“What’s the status? Didja get it?”

You stare at him, overwhelmed with love for his unruly charms, and nod ecstatically. Thoughts of Jade and revenge evaporate altogether, irrelevant now that you’re with your star.

“Hey, congrats! I knew you’d get it.” He leans over to wrap you in a harmless chokehold. “This means we’re gonna be workin’ together from now on. Make sure to pull your weight or else I might hafta squeeze ya…”

“Oh! Of course I’ll pull my weight! That and more.” Your fingers curl around his bicep and you lift your head to peer up at him, studying the droopy eyes, the messy hair, the sturgeon scale earring, and the curiosity curved on his lips. He’s perfect. You wish he was yours. “Floyd, can I tell you something?”

He perks considerably. “What’s up?”

You’re inches from kissing him, hoping to confess your love in the most bodily of ways. Rather than acting impulsively you seize his fedora and, shimmying out of his arms, fit it on your head.

Before bitterness can seep into your smile, you strike a dramatic pose and ask, “It suits me, doesn’t it?”

Floyd’s eyes sweep over your form, starting at the hat and working down to your shoes. He grins. “It’s a good fit, yeah. Makes you look official.”

“Officially Octavinelle!”

Floyd’s brows knit together in concentration. He skips over to you and bends down to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Now you’re officially Octavinelle. Got the seal of approval and everything.”

You gawp at him, hot all over, and bring your hand to your cheek. Though it was a quick kiss, the feeling lingers and sinks into your skin like a brand. Floyd pulls away, his hat in his hands.

“Cute,” he whispers, stoking the flames even further. “You look just like a li’l shrimp when you’re surprised. You get all small and hunched.”

“I do not.” You swat at him, but you aren’t annoyed with his observation. “Cheeky eel.”

He dodges your arm. “Aw, c’mon. Shrimpy knows she likes me.”

I do, you think. I really, really do.

“You’re delusional,” you say instead, stalking ahead. If you stay here any longer, your heart might just burst.

Floyd doesn’t follow, but his laughter floats down the tunnel hall, cloying like Cherry Crush perfume.

Jade is radiating an unusual energy when you step into the lounge kitchen. Restless is a good way to describe it, which can only mean one thing: Something’s up.

He’s wringing a rag in his hands, features alight with just barely suppressed ebullience. “You haven’t eaten dinner yet, yes?”

Yeah, something’s definitely up.

“You told me not to in your text. Why? Was I supposed to?” Skeptical, you sniff at the air and catch all kinds of savory scents. “Smells yummy!”

He nods, smiling wider than he usually does. You peer at the many pots and pans lining the stovetop, and he steps aside to obscure your view.

“Please close your eyes. I’ll guide you to the table.”

It’s then that you realize “the table” is not the island you ate at previously but an actual table set with a frilly tablecloth, utensils for two, and a vase of heliotropes. You gape at the display, wondering what in the world is happening.

“I don’t trust that. You’re gonna do something weird the minute I shut my eyes.”

“I would never. Not this time, at least.”

“You’re unbelievable. What’s all of this for anyway?”

“For you, of course.”

“I’m not following. Wait… Wait, hold on. Is this a dinner date?”

“Would…you like it to be?”

It clicks then, the decorations and the classy ambience.

“Oh, I get it! You’ll play Floyd and it’ll be like I’m on a date with him. That’s actually genius! I haven’t even thought about date ideas yet, but with this I’ll be able to better prepare myself for when we—”

“You start your first shift tomorrow,” he interrupts, uncharacteristically crass. Although he smiles, his expression is tightened with turmoil. “I believe you’re due for a celebration.”

His startling abruptness aside, you smirk and rest your hands on your hips. “That’s right! I got the job and all it took was patience, persistence, and positivity.”

“Surely you mean to say impatience, annoying the ink out of Azul, and some self-deprecation, right?”

“S-Shut up. We’re not going to talk about it.”

Jade holds a hand over his heart. “Well, allow me to extend my sincerest congratulations. I look forward to seeing how you’ll fare tomorrow.”

“Do you work as well?”

“Azul tasked Floyd and me with training you. He doesn’t trust you to be alone with Floyd for more than three minutes.”

“I wouldn’t trust myself either. I mean, have you seen how he rolls his sleeves up when he’s in waiter mode? And when he’s balancing so many drinks without breaking a sweat… Ah, he’s the best!” Your sigh sticks in your throat when you register the rest of his words. “So it’s not just Floyd training me?”

“Fortunately, no.”

“So you’re just going to be a third wheel.”

“Not in the slightest. I’ll be your supervisor.”

You pull an ugly face at that. Being under Jade’s supervision sounds like a punishment pulled right from the recesses of hell, but it’s not like you have any sort of power to debate the decision. After all, in the eyes of every other employee, you’re just a new hire sitting at the bottom of the ladder. Or, if you want to be more accurate, at the bottom of the sea.

“That’s even worse. Ugh. You’re totally the villain in my love story!”

“Have I not been aiding you this entire time? Surely that warrants a title far kinder than that.”

“Okay, fine. You are…my sidekick—yeah, sidekick—and with your help I’ll get my happy ending with Floyd. Right! Speaking of, he bought me perfume and then he kissed me the other day! Kissed me, Jade! He said it was a seal of some sort. I’m ‘officially Octavinelle.’ Anyway, it’s definitely good progress!”

“Did he now?”

“Here, smell! I put some on before I came here.” You raise your wrist to his nose and he obeys, leaning down to sniff at it. “Isn’t it nice? He said it suits me because I smell sweet all the time.”

“He isn’t wrong. You wear the most delightful scents. Now, that aside, if Her Highness would allow her ever-so-faithful sidekick to serve dinner…”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’m going.” You step towards the table and lower into the seat he pulls out for you. “So what’s on the menu, Chef?”

“I’ve prepared a three-course meal. You do know what that is, yes?”

“I’m not a fool.”

“Sometimes your actions tell me otherwise.”

“If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all.” You fold your arms over your chest and scoff. “Asshole eel.”

“Contradictory.” He tuts.

The two of you stare at each other. You laugh first, the sound coming out as a snort, and Jade soon follows your lead. It’s not a particularly amusing exchange, and yet neither of you can cease chuckling.

Jade manages to settle himself before you do, but there are still traces of mirth evident on his face. It crinkles his eyes when he says, “Shall we put this conversation on hold for now? I’m not sure how partial you are to cold dinners.”

You grin. “I’m ready to feast.”

At your request, he serves the appetizer and entrée together. You’re too hungry to haggle him for dessert, and so you simply sit back and watch as he sets various dishes on the circular table. A large garden salad with tongs and a dozen different dressings in small bottles. A loaf of fresh, crispy sourdough bread and a tiny plate of margarine. Two bowls of a soup you can’t name, but one smell has your stomach growling like a starved beast.

Jade senses your blatant staring and looks at you with raised brows.

“Is something the matter?”

“Just admiring the food.”

“You flatter me.”

“Not you.” You struggle to contain your giggle. “Okay, maybe you.”

“Because I look like Floyd from this angle?”

“Mm, no. You look like Jade.” You bat your lashes at him. “And Jade looks very handsome when he’s doing something he likes.”

Jade stands there, nonplussed, his face reddening. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him fluster outright.

By the time you’ve started snickering, he’s already recovered. “You never fail to surprise. Might I ask why you’re suddenly so kind to me? It’s unlike you to think of anyone else outside of Floyd.”

“Consider it my very late revenge. For that time you compared me to the moon, remember?”

“And you claim I’m the vindictive one.”

“You’re not the only one who gets to catch others off guard like that.”

He hums, folding the rag away after setting the final dish down. It’s so wrinkled from his previous twisting and turning of it. “I suppose that makes us even.”

“Hell yeah it does.” You motion for him to sit and he does, stretching his napkin out and placing it on his lap. “Did you really make all of this from scratch?”

“Indeed. That is a wild mushroom and farro soup. It’s a recipe I recently learned. Do tell me how it tastes.”

“No fair. It’s hard to be mean when you’ve done all of this for me. And from complete scratch, too.” Pouting, you stir your spoon through the soup. It’s packed full of sliced mushrooms, carrots, celery, and onions. In short, it smells divine. You’re certain it’ll taste so when you bring a spoonful to your lips, blow gently, and indulge. After three more scrumptious spoonfuls, you conclude with an obnoxious assessment: “The broth is exquisitely…exquisite. And the vegetables taste fresh and…super good. Yeah, it’s really good! One-hundred out of ten! Kinda heavy for a soup, though, but that makes sense if you’re using it as the main course.”

Jade’s smile reaches his eyes. “Thank you for saying so.”

As if those are the magic words, he samples the dish for himself, wasting no time in eating more. You peer through the heliotropes while you reach for the bread and butter, watching him savor his meal. It’s almost…cute.

Almost.

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Octopus carpaccio.”

“How come you’ve never made any for me?”

“I wasn’t aware that the nature of our deal has strayed into domesticity. Shall we get fitted for wedding attire next? Are you fond of rings? How about pearls?”

“Shut up. You know that’s not it.” You spread margarine on your slice before dunking it in the soup. “I just wanted to ask.”

“In case you were wondering, Floyd favors takoyaki.”

“I know.”

His spoon stops at his mouth. Seconds after, he exhales through his nose, smiling behind his hand. “I would expect nothing less of his greatest fan.”

“I’d get perfect marks if Professor Crewel taught Floyd 101. But octopus carpaccio sounds delicious. Kinda awkward to think about it when Azul’s an octo-mer, though. Oh, he actually gave me something—a potion I’m meant to take as part of our contract. Do you know anything about that?”

“A potion? I’m afraid I only know as much as you do.”

“Bummer.” You munch on your bread, contemplating. “It’s not a love potion. That much he confirmed, but he said I have to add part of myself to the mixture, let it sit for a little bit, and then drink it.”

“How curious.”

“You’d tell me if you knew, wouldn’t you?”

“For the right price.”

“Ew, no. Forget it. You’ll just scam me.”

Jade chuckles and fixes himself a plate of salad. He drizzles a tangy vinaigrette over it next, pushing the greens around with his fork so the flavor soaks into every crisp vegetable.

“But whatever it is, I hope it’s safe. I’m sorta in the dark right now. That instruction about adding a part of myself isn’t a helpful clue.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out in due time. I’ll be rooting for you.”

“Please don’t.”

“You never did tell me. How did your second attempt go?”

“My second attempt? Oh, the heliotrope! He accepted it. Told me it was pretty and that it looked even prettier in my hair. That was when he gave me the perfume. I’m just not sure why. I mean, I guess there’s probably not a real reason. He’s Floyd. He does whatever he wants when he feels like it. Still, I can’t stop myself from wondering…” You gasp when it hits you. “Do you think he gave me perfume because I smelled bad that day?”

Jade shakes his head, unfazed by your panicked conclusion-jumping, and continues to eat. “I can theorize,” he finally says, dabbing his lips with a napkin.

“Okay, so do it. Please tell me it wasn’t because of what I think it is.”

“Moray eels have a very robust sense of smell. We can tell many things apart purely by smell alone in the sea. We commit recurring scents to memory, such as that of food or family. Smell helps us return to those we cherish, so it acts as a helpful beacon.”

“I…don’t really get it. Are you saying you use smell to guide you? But you’re on land. Visibility must be easier here than down there.”

“To merfolk, one’s smell can evoke a variety of feelings. When you smell something delicious, does it not make you happy? This is much the same for us, even more so when it comes to other mers. Family smells like home and thus we feel safe and comfortable when wrapped in such a distinct scent. The smell of someone you care for will fill you with affection and tranquility. If that same someone is distressed, we can often smell it. Essentially, smell is special to us in a way that differs from humans’ understanding of it. No matter how far we may stray, we can always follow familiar scents to reach our destination. Our home. Our heart.” His hand splays across his chest to illustrate that last point.

“Wow. That’s…really romantic,” you mutter, chewing slowly. “So smell is like a type of unspoken communication?”

Accompanied by the gentle jazz notes from the radio, Jade’s voice is musical. “More or less. We don’t have to speak all the time to know what the other is saying.”

“Merfolk are fascinating…”

“I could say the same about humans.”

“Yeah, but we’re not that fascinating. Not like that.” You study your warped reflection in the soup. “So he gave me perfume to locate me?”

“He gave you perfume to cover my scent.”

Your head snaps up to look at him. Even though he appears unbothered by this possibility, his lips are pursed in a thin line. You think he doesn’t like this admittance.

“Oh.”

“We’re rather territorial, you see. Relationships in the sea are unlike those up here.”

“Floyd—ah, no, that was you. Uh, you mentioned that once—something about morays not following monogamy. But I’m not dating Floyd. I want to, but even I’m not that delusional. So why would he do something like that? I really doubt it’s a jealousy thing. He doesn’t strike me as the type.”

“Perhaps he just wanted to play. See if I might take notice.”

“So he did it to test you?”

“Amusing, is it not?”

“I…guess?”

I really don’t understand your sense of humor.

Jade reaches for another slice of sourdough just as you do, the both of you seeming to need something to occupy yourselves. Your hand covers his, and for a taut minute you observe him with undivided attention. He twists his hand around to hold yours and something tells you to pull away—to run from this moment and never look back—but you remain, allowing the contact.

“Regardless of his reasons, your smell will always be identifiable to us no matter how much perfume you wear.” He squeezes your hand once and then releases you. “Shrimpy’s left her imprint on me and I ain’t gonna lose that so easily. Not ever. Not even in the middle of a feeding frenzy.”

You open and close your mouth like a beached fish, embarrassment crawling up your spine. You shove a slice of bread at him. “You forgot your bread, idiot.”

He laughs. “How kind of you to remind me.”

You’re the worst, Jade Leech.

You spend the rest of dinner with heavy thoughts, your heart caught in a warring debate. If Jade’s theories hold any water, you might just have a chance with Floyd. Maybe he really does feel the same and smelling Jade on you triggered some sort of moray eel instinct. It’s all you can consider even when you attempt to distract yourself with eating.

Meanwhile, Jade regales you with exciting foraging tales and you try to feign attention, too occupied with dissecting his body language as if it’ll open a new avenue for clues. He’s so unlike Floyd—so different with his hobbies and interests and demeanor. But he masquerades as Floyd so seamlessly, reflecting that same level of capriciousness you’ve come to admire. It’s possible Jade just said something to satisfy your endless questioning. Maybe it had nothing to do with either of your scents after all. Maybe Jade’s just a liar, which isn’t news.

But to say that it was because he wanted to wash Jade’s scent off of me… That’s so embarrassing. So then he knew what we got up to in the botanical garden and he didn’t say a word about it. Does that mean he thinks we’re a thing? No, maybe not. Otherwise why else would he have been so adamant on giving me perfume? But then Jade could be lying, spinning some silly story just to trick me. Ugh, why can’t he ever be serious? My love life’s at stake here.

By the time he’s brought out dessert, a warm blackberry cobbler with scoops of vanilla ice cream situated on top, you abandon all of your conflicting thoughts and focus on enjoying your slice. As expected, it tastes like heaven and you lose yourself in the flavors, quickly forgetting about your burdensome romantic complications.

“Thanks for this, by the way.”

“There’s no need for that. It’s part of our arrangement, is it not?”

“Yeah, but I feel like I’m half-assing my part. You put in all of this work to be Floyd and you’re cooking amazing meals, and then all I’m doing is giving you useless critique.”

“It’s useless, yes.” He smiles around a bite of cobbler. “It isn’t very helpful either, but it is entertaining.”

“Way to soften the blow.” Suppressing a groan, you add, “And you’re also teaching me about moray courtship. I’m not contributing at all.”

“If you’re so desperate to do so, why not share some anecdotes about being human?”

“I doubt you’ll get anything out of it.”

“You never know.”

“Sure. All right. Um…” You stir melting ice cream with your spoon. “Dancing.”

“Dancing?”

“Floyd likes to dance, so I just sorta thought of it.” You chuckle sheepishly. “Uh, did you guys ever dance in the Coral Sea? Is that even possible?”

He nods, his lips quirking up slowly behind the convex of his spoon. “It is very possible.”

“Right. Of course it’d be. Sorry, stupid question.”

“Not at all.” He tilts his head, licking the metal. “Have you ever danced before? Ah, allow me to amend my phrasing. Can you dance, or is that not part of your skill set?”

“I can! I’ll have you know I dance best when I’m trying to impress. And when I’m alone! I’m practically a professional.”

“You’re so practically, professionally delusional. How simple a life you must lead.”

“Not true! Also, rude!” Scoffing, you scoot away from the table, the chair legs squeaking in protest. With a huff, you hold your hand out. “I’ll prove it.”

Jade’s lips split apart in a wild grin, his face tinged pink under the dim amber glow of the kitchen lights. “Oh? And have you prepared yourself for the humiliation that will soon follow when you prove inadequate?”

“I hope there’s enough appetite left in that bottomless stomach of yours because you’ll be eating those words soon enough.” You smirk, cocking your head. “And don’t look so excited. This is a competition, not courtship.”

“And yet they become one and the same under the sea…” You miss his whispered musing, so instead he rises from his seat and bows before you. “Do try to avoid stepping on my feet.”

“Hah! You wish I was that bad!”

“I truly do.”

You brush past him, swaying your hips. The challenging lilt in your voice is a siren’s song, tickling his ears with tantalizing tones. “Only one way to find out, no?”

He stands there, watching the kitchen doors swing shut.

You don’t have to wait long, for he steps through seconds after to join you in the lounge. It’s strange to admire the interior after hours, so empty and devoid of the usual bustling energy it’s known for, but it’s not particularly unsettling. It’s a serene silence, broken only by Jade’s clicking steps as he covers the distance to reach you. Backdropped by the colorful aquarium, bathed in pretty purples and beautiful blues, you really are what the moon is to merfolk: utterly, indescribably breathtaking. Every part of you, from your infectious smile to the way you stand with such confidence, is so magnetizing it leaves him mesmerized.

With a flick of his magic pen, the lights in the lounge dim, giving way to stretching shadows and aquatic phantasms, and the speakers crackle to life. The sophisticated notes of a whimsical waltz come tumbling out. Jade smiles at you, his eyes bright and warm.

“May I trouble you to close your eyes?”

You can feel your own smile carving at your cheeks and so you obey, your lashes fluttering. “I’m trusting you just this once.”

“I shan't let you down,” comes his suave promise.

There’s a mystical tinkle and chime, a bright flash of light that tries to sear your eyelids, and then you’re wrapped up in a soothing warmth. Silk rustles and flutters, twining itself around your body like a boa. The accessories come next, draping across you like an ocean lapping at the shore.

At Jade’s gentle command, you open your eyes. He’s conjured a mirror, which allows you to see yourself dressed in an azure gown, its train swishing with every twirl you take. The ruffles and ribbons, in white and variations of lighter to darker blues, bounce when you, overcome with childish glee, shimmy. They settle in waves, refined in a way that speaks of marble and alabaster. Even the dress’s straps, made of pearl strands and cut out at the shoulders, fascinate you. It’s masterfully crafted, all the way to the snug, form-fitting bodice adorned with more pearls and a pretty bow with a rose. Like a cherry on top, the matching choker is secured around your neck.

Lifting the gown to reveal a pair of shiny black heels, you peer at the frilly white stockings, your mouth dropping open in awe. The mirror is magicked away, and now nothing stands between you and Jade.

“It’s so… It’s amazing,” you mutter, running your fingers over the shimmering fabric.

“A transient illusion befitting my moon princess. Ah, but your attire suggests otherwise… Perhaps you’re more of a jellyfish princess.”

You gasp, flattered beyond words. “Can I be both?”

“Greedy. Greedy.”

“You’re one to talk.” Rolling your eyes, you offer your outstretched hand. The corners of your lips twitch upwards. “Well, will you have this dance, loyal sidekick of mine?”

With his hand resting over his heart, he bows. “It would be an honor, Your Highness.”

The music swells just as his hand closes around yours, fingers twining, and the two of you settle into the proper stance. His other hand rests delicately on your waist, and for a moment you struggle to place your free hand somewhere. He smirks at you, his eyes narrowed in unspoken jeer. Your glower isn’t harsh in the slightest, for your scrunched features give way to a wide, toothy grin when you tug him towards you. His delight is palpable, and he falls into the pace you set with measured finesse.

It’s easy to recount the steps crucial to a standard ballroom dance, and you execute them as if it’s as natural as breathing. The two of you glide effortlessly across the sleek floor, your reflections cast in dappled light. Swaying to and fro like a marionette, your dress billowing behind you, you lift your gaze to his. He’s smiling—truly smiling!—and the sight fills you with satisfaction. You can’t explain it, but it’s so very wonderful to behold a side of Jade that isn’t the reticent walking danger he subjects the school to. Not that that side is bad. For all of the trouble he causes you, you don’t mind it.

You thought you could dislike him, if only to make it easier to pursue Floyd, but rather you gravitate towards the companionship he provides. And not because he’s a phony Floyd, but because he’s Jade.

“See? I told you I could dance.”

“I didn’t doubt you for a moment.”

“Said the liar.”

“My expectations were quite low to begin with.”

Jade twirls you with minimal effort, and you giggle, following the pace he sets alongside the magnificent tempo. You gaze into his mismatched eyes. He’s nothing like Floyd. Tonight he’s Jade, and for the first time that’s much better than any performance he could ever put on.

“I learned back home, but I never stuck with it because I didn’t have a partner to try the routines with. But then I was transported here and I found out Floyd loves to dance, so I practiced in hopes that one day I might be able to—whoa!”

He lowers you into a dip just then. Startled by the sudden change in position, you cling to him while your heart spikes up into your throat.

“Oops.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

Jade smiles down at you, unaffected. “You’re a wonderful dancer.”

“I could’ve told you that.”

“You just did.” He lifts you up, spins you gracefully, and pulls you flush against his chest. “Your body says everything your lips do not.”

“Yeah? Then what am I saying now?”

Standing on the tips of your toes, you hook your arm around his neck and turn to smirk at him. His arm wraps around your stomach, firmly holding you in place against him, while his other hand splays across your chin, guiding your gaze towards his. You hold his stare with a smoldering determination, your hearts beating as one amidst intimate proximity. And then, with his eyelids fluttering to a near-close, he tilts your head further up, leaning down to capture your waiting lips in a soft, soulful kiss.

There are no squirming tongues, clicking teeth, or bloodied maws. Just a precious press of his mouth to yours, an unvoiced declaration of desire.

“That you’re immensely proud,” he whispers, his lips now centimeters from yours, “because you’ve proven my assumptions wrong. More than that, you hoped to catch me off guard.”

“And did I?”

“Why not read my body language and find out for yourself, hm?”

“Sly eel,” you mutter, impressed with his temerity. “You know that’s not gonna work on me. Not unless you’re Floyd.”

“Perhaps not.” Jade spins you out of his hold, disentangling the both of you from your propinquity. “But it’s worth a try, no?”

“A valiant effort.” You pull him along, easing back into the waltz like well-oiled clockwork. Your feet follow the steps in time with the tinkling melody. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Can’t get enough of me?”

He flashes his teeth at you in a menacing grin. “Is honesty not the best policy?”

“It is when you follow it.”

“In that case, we share a commonality.” His fingers crawl up your shoulder to brush the ribbon around your throat. “We’re both liars seeking the comforts of dishonesty.”

“Don’t group me with you.”

“Are you not just as shameless, or am I mistaken?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Yeaaah? Even though I’m Shrimpy’s favorite? Ain’t I the most congenial?”

Despite yourself, you laugh. “You think he’d say it like that?”

“Not in the slightest, and yet you’d still manage to fall for it.”

“Every time. Without fail.”

Exhaling a disconsolate breath, his smile thins and his eyes cloud over with despondency. “Very predictable.”

The two of you waltz until midnight, exchanging banter and recalling dance-related stories while gliding across an illuminated floor. Your gown falls away in diamond-shaped patches when you step out of the lounge and into the tunnel hall, now back in the clothes you were wearing when you first arrived. You frown when you catch sight of your plain reflection, the fast-paced, upbeat glamour of the evening withering into something slow and quiet. As if it was all but a fleeting dream.

“I can’t believe I’m admitting this,” you say after he’s caught up to you, “but I had fun tonight.”

Jade nudges you. “Ain’t it always fun when you’re with me? You sayin’ this is the only time?”

“Oh, shush.” You return his Floyd-like prodding with some of your own antagonizing pokes. “I had fun with Jade when he’s Jade. There. I said it. You’re not so terrible to hang out with.”

“What was that? I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch that.”

“You heard me.”

“One more time.”

“You wish.”

He chuckles. “I suppose I should return the favor. You aren’t so difficult to manage either.”

“That’s a completely different statement. And so backhanded, too!”

“Was yours not worded the same?”

You roll your eyes as the both of you exit Octavinelle via magic bubble. Pressing your palm against the smooth surface, you admire the endless sprawl of ocean, lit by deep-sea bioluminescence and the few artificial lights surrounding Octavinelle territory. Despite the creeping shadows and occasional darting of sea creatures, it’s prepossessing like a mystery. You’re so absorbed in your ogling, so transfixed by the aquatic scenery before you, that you fail to notice he’s watching you closely.

It’s so pretty… I wonder if Floyd thinks so every time he returns to Octavinelle. Or maybe it’s nothing spectacular to him because he lives this back in the Coral Sea. You spot Jade’s reflection then, your eyes zeroing in on his placid smile. Jade probably thinks the same. Actually, what even goes through his head? I can never tell.

With a contented sigh, you turn to slump against the bubble and cross your arms over your chest. “You don’t have to walk me back, you know. It’s out of your way.”

“No, but I insist.”

You shoot him a dubious look, wondering what it is he might possibly want in return for his act of goodwill. Unable to read his intentions, you resolve to take it as it is: a kind gesture.

“Well, thanks for being so chivalrous.”

Under a velvety sea of stars, Jade escorts you all the way to Ramshackle. You hurry to hold the gate open for him and he catches on to your scramble with pointed perception.

“In case you’re unaware, I am capable of doing good deeds without the need for compensation.”

“You’re such a liar!” you exclaim, shaking your head and ushering him through. “No Octavinelle student has ever said that and meant it.”

“Then I shall be the first.”

You swat at his arm and then skip ahead two stone steps. “Yeah, right. You’re way too opportunistic for that.”

Jade stops beside you at Ramshackle’s front door. “I’ve heard a new hire will be joining us. It would be quite convenient if she was made to do all of the work under the guise of training, wouldn’t you agree?”

“That poor new hire. I wonder who it could possibly be,” you say, your delivery flat and unamused. “It’ll be my first day. Have mercy on me.”

“I’ll consider it.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “I’m demoting you back to villain. No more sidekick privileges.”

“I hardly had any to begin with.”

“Hey! Not true! You—”

Just then, a cacophony of chortles pierce the air. You whirl and find three transparent heads poking through the front door, their features alight with mischief.

“Aah, young love. Takes me back.”

“To what? The last century?”

“Hah! I’m surprised you can even remember that far back!”

Your eyes widen to a comical size. “G-Ghosts?! What’re you doing here? How long were you listening in?”

“Long enough,” they answer in eerie unison, all giggles. Hungry for gossip as usual.

“You finally get your kiss with the Leech boy?”

“Yeah! We were waitin’ for ages.”

“Can’t really age anymore, though, but it sure did feel like an eternity. You’d think we’d be dead by now.”

“Oh, wait, we already are! Hah!”

“Sooo, didja get your kiss?”

Burning with embarrassment, you swat at the three of them, seething through your teeth. Your hands pass through their frigid apparitions no matter how much you flail. They reshape themselves with ease, laughing throughout the process.

“Ew, no! Wrong twin!” you hiss, shaking your head. “That’s Jade, guys. Jade.”

They peer past you at him. He smiles and lowers into a respectful bow. “Good evening.”

“So it is indeed Mr. Jade!”

“Apologies. We mistook you for your brother.”

“Greetings! Fine evening for a little smoochin’, don’tcha think?”

“Stop!” You gasp, your face hot with humiliation. “You’re making it worse! Please go back inside. I’ll be in in just a second.” Your attempt to push them through the door is made in vain, for they can’t be moved or touched. “Shouldn’t you guys be scaring Grim or something? Give me a break!”

Jade catches your wrist just as you attempt to bring your fist down against the door. The ghosts vanish into thin air, their cackles a haunting echo.

You huff, offended that they left before you could scold them. “Don’t listen to them. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

He squeezes your hand to soothe your bubbling temper. “There’s no need to fret. They’re merely teasing.”

You’re slow to snatch your hand back. “Yeah. Well… Still.”

“Still?”

“It’s awkward!”

“You’ve made so many bold declarations regarding Floyd, so I was under the impression you weren’t capable of feeling even the tiniest shred of shame. If I recall, weren’t you begging to be bitten in the botanical garden? You wanted my teeth in your shoulder, did you not? You wanted ‘Floyd’ to mark you in such a way so that everyone would know—so that they’d see physical proof of our relations.”

Your mouth drops open in horror. He remembers that?

“S-Shut up! Stop talking!” You bound forwards, pushing him down the stairs and towards the exit. Jade allows this, covering each step without scrimmage. “Seriously, you just love to run your mouth, don’t you?”

“You’re more than welcome to remedy that. According to your friendly poltergeists, tonight is prime for kissing.”

“Kiss me and I’ll kick you in your kneecaps.”

“How cruel.” He feigns a pout, eyes glossing over. “Shrimpy’s so violent…”

You’re about to retort when you remember the kiss he snagged at the lounge during your waltz, and suddenly his crocodile tears are rendered ineffective.

You shove him through the gate, refusing to dignify his nonsense with a reply. “Goodbye! Farewell! Get out!”

“Sweet dreams, Shrimpyyy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Good night.” You flick your hand at him in a shooing motion before latching the gate shut. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jade.”

Shrugging off his Floydness, he returns to himself and pauses as if reflecting. He places his hands on the fence and leans closer to you. Without thinking, you meet him halfway. Before either of you can linger, he closes the distance to kiss your cheek.

“Officially Octavinelle,” he reminds you with a wink.

You stumble away so fast you almost trip. Jade chuckles behind his fist, annoyingly kittenish.

“I hate you.”

“You don’t mean that. Shrimpy loooves me,” he calls out in Floyd’s voice as he departs.

“As if, asshole!”

You scowl at his retreating figure until he’s a mere speck. Once he’s gone, you relax and rub at your face. The feeling of his lips is branded into both your skin and memory, and you fear it will remain like that for a long time. Not wanting to think about what that could mean, you spin on your heel, stomp the rest of the way to your dorm, and throw the door open.

“Ghosts, get back out here!” The authority in your voice morphs into uncontainable glee when you spot them peeking at you from the ceiling. You squeal and jump about the foyer, spinning and whooping all at once. “Oh my gosh! I have so much to tell you! Wake Grim—he’s gotta hear this!”

second part.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere jade leech #yandere jade leech x reader #yandere jade #yandere jade x reader #n/sfw #tw: pregnancy #tw: baby trapping #tw: choking

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merakiui · 4 months

Text

The Most Dangerous Game [2]

There’s a certain air about you when you enter the Mostro Lounge.

Radiating confident satisfaction, a cutthroat type of on-top-of-the-world aura that replaces any first day jitters attempting to rise to the surface, you beeline for the kitchen. You know the lounge’s layout well enough—not only as a customer who spent an obsessive amount of time observing these details, but also as Jade’s diligent taste-tester. You’ve been let into the lounge kitchen after hours more often than you’d like to admit, but it only serves to bolster your mental fortitude.

I’m going to kill it today, you assure yourself. Prove to Azul that I’m capable and get closer to Floyd in the process.

As if having read your thoughts, Floyd intercepts you. “Heyyy, Shrimpy really showed up!” He circles you like a curious shark, a smile slowly spreading on his lips. “Lookin’ good.”

You reward his ogling with a twirl in your new uniform, which had been conveniently waiting at your doorstep this morning—wrapped in a pretty box with a big bow. The card had simply read: A uniform to celebrate your newly acquired Officially Octavinelle status. You didn’t have to read further to know who signed the message, and the note had been swiftly torn in two and tossed into the trash while you lamented to Grim and the ghosts about a certain stupid, sly eel.

“Aren’t I just the spitting image of scummy scams and the deep sea?”

“The most spittin’ image anyone’s ever spat,” he agrees with a silly giggle. But then something serious passes over his features. He plucks your hat from off your head and leans in close. “It’s Shrimpy’s first day, so I’m gonna letcha in on a li’l somethin’, kay?”

Out of instinct, you shrink away. His voice is a dangerous whisper, lined with threatening undertones. “Anyone gives you any trouble, you come to me, got it? Don’t think you can’t say nothin’ cuz you’re new.”

“Oh. O-Oh!” You nod hastily, too astounded to rely on your usual quick-witted coherency. “Thank you… I appreciate that.”

Like a flipped switch, he brightens and plops your hat back on your head. “Man, I’m pumped! It’s gonna be so much fun with Shrimpy here!”

You adjust your hat and skip after him, not wanting to slip out of his orbit. “So what’s the plan for today?”

Floyd grins and holds a card between his fingers like a magician readying to reveal his next trick. Foolishly, you assume it’s a love letter up until you watch him scribble something down on a second card. He passes the unmarked one to you, explaining, “Ya gotta sign in for every shift. These things keep track of the hours ya worked, and at the end of every two weeks Azul counts ’em up.”

“That makes sense.” You take the pen he offers and scribble your name and the time in the appropriate boxes, soon handing both to him.

“And after you put it back here, you can start doin’ what you’re supposed to. Least, that’s what I usually do.”

“And that is?”

“Whatever I feel like.”

“Ah, right. Then what about me? What should I do?”

“You’re gonna be with me today. We’ll be takin’ orders and servin’ customers. Doin’ stuff as we go. That sorta thing.”

“All right! Sounds easy enough!” The both of you high-five just as Jade approaches, wearing his usual polite smile.

“My, my. Someone’s in high spirits.”

You nod, too eager to entertain him with another pointless argument. “You bet! Oh, and thanks for the uniform.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Your nose scrunches at his too-proud inflection, but your attention is soon snatched away when Floyd returns with a notepad and pen.

You flip to a fresh page, curiously clicking your pen. “I’m assuming there’s a system for taking orders?”

“Precisely,” Jade interrupts, smoothly striding between you and Floyd, a hand over his heart. “We use abbreviations when taking orders. It’s quick and convenient. I’ll help you as you go.”

Floyd easily steps around Jade, draping an arm on your shoulder and tugging you against him. Your heart skyrockets into your throat at this newfound closeness. “You’ll get it in no time. S’not difficult at all. And if Shrimpy gets stuck, she’s got me.”

Jade stares at Floyd, a ghost of a frown turning his lips down. “She’ll have both of us,” he corrects coolly. “Azul tasked both of us to train her, after all.”

“Yeah, but you’re just gonna do things by the book. That’s no fun at all.” Floyd spins you to look at him. “You want me to train ya, right? It’ll be more fun that way.”

You lock eyes with Jade over Floyd’s shoulder. Though they’re dulled with emptiness, he smiles and nods encouragingly. “Uh… I mean, of course I want you to train me. But Azul might get angry if I mess up on my first day because I wanted to have fun. Seems a little…irresponsible.”

He’ll definitely count it as my first strike, too. There’s no way I’m risking that.

Floyd pouts, his entire frame melting with disappointment. “Aww. Shrimpy’s lame.”

“There are other ways to have fun, you know.” Swatting his empty insult away, you lower your voice conspiratorially. “We just can’t get caught.”

“Attagirl, now you’re speakin’ my language.”

“Hell yeah! Let’s do this!”

Between the two of them, Floyd actually proves his worth—more so than Jade. He must be on top of his game today, you realize as he points out various numbering systems and abbreviations, casually correcting you when it’s necessary. You wonder how he can remember all of this, but when he puts his mind to a task he can accomplish anything. You’re content to listen and follow along, striving for perfection even though you know that means nothing to Floyd.

Jade keeps his distance, tending to nearby tables when he’s not needed. He’s quiet today, more so than usual, but you don’t have any time to dissect this observation and what it means. The lunch rush is a whirlwind; students filter in with their cravings, piling into booths and tables, and soon the lounge is resembling a noisy sardine tin. The rowdy energy keeps you alert, has you flitting from table to table with a pep in your step. Every group you’ve tended to, with Floyd standing at your side as your lifeline, has shrunk away at the sight of him. He flashes them friendly grins, but to everyone else they probably look menacing.

You’re relieved he’s here. His presence gives you some special sort of invincibility against ignorant customers who may have been itching to heckle you on your first day. And no one would dare try anything with Floyd prowling so closely.

“Thank you for your order! It’ll be up shortly,” you say, offering the table a trademark customer service smile. You turn on your heel, intending to beeline for the kitchen to notify the chefs of another order, when you walk right into Floyd. “Oh, sorry! Do you need something, Floyd?”

Pinching the order slip between two nimble fingers, he tears it from the notebook and beams. “I’ll take care of this. You do the next one by yourself. Table six.” Before you can object, he pats you on the shoulder and skips off. “Countin’ on ya, Shrimpy!”

Aw. I’ll miss you, you think with a dejected pout, spinning to locate the table in question. The pout immediately twists up into a smile when you spot three familiar faces, and you hurry over to meet them.

“Hey, guys, fancy seeing you here!”

Ace, Deuce, and Grim all turn to look at you, their faces brightening considerably at your arrival.

“(Name), hey! How’s your first shift going?” Deuce asks.

“Think ya could slide us some extras free of charge?” Grim tries, patting the menu with his paw. “The Great Grim ain’t gonna say no to free eats!”

“Now that sounds good. What do ya think, (Name)? Think you could hook us up?” With a smirk, Ace leans back into the cushioned booth and pantomimes locking his lips and tossing an invisible key. “We won’t tell if you won’t.”

You roll your eyes, hands situated on your hips. “First of all, no, I can’t do that even if I wanted to. Secondly, if you’re just here to beg for free food, the door’s over there.”

“Don’t listen to them,” Deuce cuts in, shooting them a look. “They’re just thinking with their stomachs. We’re paying customers like everyone else, so please just treat us like that.”

Ace tuts. “You wouldn’t even do something nice for your best buds? That’s harsh, man. I thought we had something.”

“We do and it’s called friendship. But not the kind of friendship where I steal from my job just to feed you. Besides, you get tons of free snacks every time you hang out at Ramshackle. If anything, you ought to do something nice for me.”

“Can’t I just buy my way out with this award-winning smile of mine? Oh, I know! I’ll teach you a few magic tricks next time we play cards. How’s that sound for payment? Priceless, yeah?”

“Not too bad. All right, I’m in.” You reach over to bump fists with Ace, sealing the verbal deal.

“Hey, I wanna learn! If yer teachin’ my hench-human, I gotta get in on this, too!” Grim nudges Ace, attempting to squeeze past him in the booth to get between him and you.

“Oi, Grim! Sit back down!”

You laugh at the sight while Deuce looks on woefully. He turns to you next. “How’s it going with Floyd? You said you’d have a better chance to see him here, right?”

“Yeah, it’s going surprisingly well! I thought he’d want nothing to do with me at first—because I’d be just another new hire—but he’s been super helpful all day. On top of that, we’re talking more than we usually do. Oh, and he also complimented me! It’s been a great first day.” The more you ramble, the more the color on Deuce’s face drains until he’s as pallid as a ghost. “Uh, Deuce? You good?”

Even Grim and Ace have quieted their quarreling, and now they look on with an obedience that startles you. But then, in spite of his silence, you sense him. Without turning to confirm, you feel around for the ends of his scarf, take hold of both, and tug him down to your height.

“My, my. It seems I’ve been ensnared,” Jade admits, his voice light with laughter.

“It’s rude to lurk, you know,” you advise, craning your head to glare at him. “You’re scaring my honored guests.”

“Am I now?” Rather boldly, he rests his chin on your shoulder to stare down at your friends. The proximity would have been ominous to anyone else—and it certainly is to Ace, Deuce, and Grim—but for you this is nothing new. “I’ve only come to check in. You’re very hard at work making pleasant conversation.”

“It was very pleasant until a certain eel interrupted.”

“Ah, is that so? Pardon my intrusion.”

Releasing his scarf from your hold, you shrug him off. “Little late for insincerity. Anyway, shoo. I was just about to take their orders.”

“I thought I might observe. You seem quite popular with customers and it’s only your first day. I’d like to know what parts of you are so appealing.” Jade detaches himself and slides into the empty space beside you. He smiles, close-eyed and tight-lipped. “Don’t let me hinder you.”

“Ugh. All right, guys, what do you want?”

“Since when are you so buddy-buddy with Jade?” Ace asks instead, sounding genuinely curious despite his growing smirk.

He thinks he’s worked out what’s going on behind the scenes, but he doesn’t even know half of it. A relief, otherwise you’d never hear the end of his teasing. He doesn’t bother to hide it, nor does he whisper his query. If you could shrink him with pure willpower alone, stuff him in a jar, and give it a firm shake, you’d do just that.

“We are not buddy-buddy!” you hiss, clicking your pen impatiently. “Now order, or else I’m leaving your table and never coming back.”

“I dunno…” Deuce winces under the combination of Jade’s inquisitive stare and your mean glower as you wordlessly dare him to continue. “You seem like buds to me.”

“Yeah! (Name) was goin’ on and on about him this morning. Nearly made me deaf with all her loud rantin’! Since the Great Grim’s so all-knowin’ about stuff, I’d say she likes him.”

You catch the grin curling on Jade’s lips and hurry to step in front of him before he can say or do anything that’ll deepen the grave you’ve dug. His hands fall upon your shoulders, holding you still while he leers at your friends.

“Do we truly seem so close?” he asks. A trick question if you’ve ever heard one.

The three of them exchange wary looks before attempting chuckles.

“You know… Actually, I think I’m ready to order now.”

“I mean, closeness can’t really be measured physically like that, right? You kinda have no choice but to be close or…as close as coworkers can get, I guess,” Deuce adds.

“The Great Grim’s gonna be skin and bones by the time you finish yapping! Hurry up and lemme put my order in!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You stick your tongue out at them before shifting out of Jade’s grasp, penning their orders one at a time. Once everything has been recorded, you rip the slip from the notepad and pass it to Jade. He peers at it, brows raised.

“Since we’re so close, help me out and make this order.”

“Anything for Shrimpy,” he murmurs with that stupid, sly smile of his. He brushes past you as he departs for the bar.

You just love to play dangerous games, don’t you, Jade Leech? you think, hoping he trips on the way there. (He doesn’t.)

“You sure there’s nothing between you and Jade?” Ace asks once it’s just you. “Nothing at all?”

Your eyes narrow dubiously. “Why? You interested?”

He forces a loud scoff. “As if! Like I’d like you. You’ve probably got all sortsa cooties.”

“Oh, really? I’ll show you cooties. Come here!”

Giggling, you throw yourself into the booth and wrap your arms around Ace to smother him in friendly affection. He fights it halfheartedly, his cheeks flushed pink. Deuce and Grim sit back and enjoy the silliness with wide smirks. You’re near-wrestling with him, the both of you attempting to overpower the other with pokes and pinches. It’s when you spot Floyd emerging from the kitchen, drinks balanced on his tray, that you finally separate yourself from Ace, putting a grand end to your impossible stalemate.

“Now we’ve both got cooties.” You ruffle his hair. He attempts to return the favor, but you take a graceful step away before he can capture you.

“Yeah, yeah. Just you wait. I’ll get you back for this,” he challenges, mischief lacing each syllable. “When you least expect it! That’s an Ace Trappola guarantee!”

“You sure you’re not just gonna forget?” Deuce notes with a smirk, to which Ace glares.

“Just because you said that, I’m gonna remember it for the rest of the month!”

“Good luck,” Grim says with a snicker. “The Great Grim might be inclined to remind you if you offer him some premium tuna…”

“Come off it! Your memory’s even worse! Just look at your last test score!”

“Yours ain’t any better!”

You shake your head, thoroughly amused with their antics. “I’ll see you later, okay? Let’s hang out at Ramshackle tonight!”

Deuce nods and flashes you a kind smile—the type that smooths out all of his rough edges. “Have a good rest of your shift, (Name).”

“Make a difference, tiger,” Ace says with a wink. “Catch ya in the eve.”

“And if they got leftovers at the end of this, bring ’em home for me!”

“You can count on it, guys. And I’m not making any promises, Grim!”

And then you’re slipping into the fray before your always-hungry direbeast friend can protest, darting around the noisy hustle and bustle to get to Floyd. He’s just finished making his rounds when you meet him at the center, the both of you sharing a nod of mutual greeting. Carrying drinks of his own, Jade passes you and you don’t spare him a single glance. You’ve seen and heard enough of him for the day.

“Shrimpy’s pretty good at this,” Floyd remarks as he wraps an arm around you, putting most of his weight on you. You stand proud even though you falter with the added burden. “Didja work in a place like this back in your world?”

You gaze up at him, your face inches from his. Any closer and you could…

Your eyes flick from his eyes to his lips and then back. Floyd watches you, brows raised and body angled directly at you. He’s waiting. Waiting for what, you’re not sure.

“Yeah,” you admit in a single breath, speechless and yet filled to the brim with chatter. “I… I did.”

“Then you got nothin’ to worry about. You’re already doin’ great.”

He leans in even closer, a smile stretching across his face. You can smell his cologne, practically taste him from where you stand. The lounge and its inhabitants seem to fade away, and suddenly it’s just you and your star in a tenebrous space lit only by a single spotlight.

Any closer—mere centimeters—and you could…

Gathering your courage, you force the words out from the crannies in your heart, each one a product of this perfect moment. “Floyd, I’ve always wanted to tell you this. I… I want you to know that I’ve always loved—”

“Your work ethic,” Jade interjects, placing his hands on your and Floyd’s shoulders to separate you. He smiles, irritatingly innocent. “As it happens, table eight needs a server. Why not show off that incredible work ethic right now?”

On second thought, maybe you should shove Jade in the jar. Lock him inside for the rest of his days and turn it into a terrarium trap. The plants can thrive off of his decomposing corpse for all you care—as recompense for being an utter pain.

Floyd shrugs Jade off with a pout. “Yeah, yeah. I see ’em.”

“I’ll race you there,” you challenge before he can lose steam.

That sparks him right back into the groove, and he giggles. “If I win, you gotta tell me that thing you were tryin’ to say, okaaay? No gettin’ out of it. And if you lie, I’ll squeeze the truth outta ya.”

“And if I win, you owe me something sweet!”

“Hee-hee. Shrimpy better run fast then.”

He takes off first. You lag behind long enough to drag Jade down to your face. He tilts his head at you.

“At this rate, he’ll win.”

“Good. Then he’ll finally know how I feel about him, and someone won’t be there to interrupt like the ignorant, asshole eel he is.”

“I only wish to assist you. After all—” he lowers his voice, and the pointed beginnings of his teeth wink at you from under his curved lips— “as per Azul’s condition, kissing and confessions count as Floyd-related distractions, do they not? Are you truly willing to risk striking out on your first day?”

He’s right. You hate that he’s right.

“Shit,” you hiss, releasing him from your hold.

He straightens and struts past you, smooth as a breeze. “If you run now, you may just make it.” And then he’s walking towards your friends’ table, each of their drinks placed upon his tray.

You groan and fall into a frantic run. “Floyd, wait up!”

By some magical miracle, you manage to get to the table before he does. But that’s only because you throw yourself at it with a force so shocking and desperate that it stuns both Floyd and the students sitting there. A twinge of humiliation pricks your heart when you draw away from the table, smiling sheepishly. Floyd’s raucous laughter permeates the air, and his hand claps down on your shoulder.

“Musta been a real good secret if Shrimpy’s so determined to keep quiet about it.”

“Y-Yeah, something like that…”

Thank goodness I made it. Just what was I thinking, getting swept up in the moment? There’s no way I can confess in the middle of the lounge when it’s so busy! That would make for such a lame confession. You dig your notepad and pen from your pocket, exhaling in relief. I guess I owe Jade some thanks. He saved me from certain doom.

“I’ll figure it out eventually. Don’t hold out on me, kaaay?”

With his looming frame overshadowing you, all you can do is nod. Floyd has always had a tendency to take your breath away—either from anxiety, amazement, or admiration. And he’s so good at it, too.

“Ah. Guess I owe ya somethin’ sweet, yeah?” He digs through his pockets before withdrawing a single candy. Grinning boyishly, he leans in, presses his lips to your cheek with a wet-sounding smack, and then slides the treat into your waiting hand. “There. How’s that for sweet?”

Your face flares with heat and you grip the lollipop in a tighter fist, half-expecting it to simply vanish if you loosen your grip. “T-The sweetest…”

“Uh, can we order now?” an impatient Scarabia student asks, a scowl scrawled across his features.

His friends huff in agreement, each unwilling spectators to your and Floyd’s fluffy fawning.

Floyd’s gaze is dark, but his smile is bright—all sharp points. “Sure, sure. Tell Shrimpy your order. It’s her first day, so cut her some slack, else I’m servin’ each of ya a side of squeezin’. On the house.”

The quartet of friends stiffen and give hasty, obedient nods.

You click your pen, swimming through a sea of pure joy. The lollipop is a lucky charm in your pocket. “What can I get for you, gentlemen?”

For the rest of the day you’re in the clouds, clear-headed and weightless.

Weeks later, on your way out of the lounge, Floyd stops you. His arrival is Grim’s cue to exit, and he trots after Ace and Deuce, who are already so far ahead they’re practically pinpricks. You’re compelled to follow, if only to tell them not to wait up, but then Floyd’s hand is squeezing your shoulder, willing you to look at him.

“Floyd?”

You’re not scheduled to work tonight. In fact, you have no further business with him. Not really. Most of your conversations are held during your shifts, your bond strengthened through mutual employment. You’re not best friends, but you’re something close.

Close enough to see each other outside of work, you think before cringing inwardly. Wait. Friends and classmates do that, too. There’s nothing special about that.

“Why don’tcha stay a while? S’not too busy today.”

“I’d love to, but I’ve kinda got plans. We’re heading back to Ramshackle now if you wanna come.”

“Tempting, but nah.”

You blink at him, unsure of his angle. “Then… I’ll see you around?”

Floyd giggles, tilting his head at you in that cute, curious way. “Okaaay.”

His hand slides away and he stands with his arms folded behind his back. You take a step in the opposite direction before halting.

Floyd was the one who sought me out. Floyd…wants something from me. And we’re finally alone. Why am I trying to walk away from that? Isn’t this what I’ve always wanted?

“Actually—” you start, whirling around, still unsure— “can we hang out?”

“Thought ya’d never ask.”

Floyd strides over to match your gait, grinning down at you. He seizes your hand next, spindly fingers interlocking with yours, and then he’s dragging you down the hall. As if caught up in a current, you allow yourself to be pulled.

“What about your shift?” you ask even though you don’t particularly care.

“They’ll manage. Azul’ll just make Jade do all the work.”

You furrow your brow, stumbling along after him. “That doesn’t seem very fair to Jade.”

“Shrimpy cares a lot about Jade, huh?”

“Not like that,” you say, shaking your head. “No way. Jade and I are just friends.”

“Yeah? Didn’t seem that way yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” You think back on the day’s events and recall the way Jade had slipped past you while you were taking an order, his fingers grazing your arm. Of course, as any smart, sensible person would do, you wound your fist back to reciprocate tenfold, which he’d artfully dodged. Much to your disappointment. “Oh, that. That was…an attempt at a high-five.”

Floyd giggles. “Jade’s not super touchy-feely with lotsa people, but he loooves touchin’ Shrimpy.”

You force yourself to laugh, but it comes out high and brittle. “That’s… Yeah, that’s odd. I wonder why…”

Jade, you asshole eel, you haven’t been discreet at all!

Before you can even think of the many ways in which you can exact revenge the next time you see him, Floyd’s in your face.

“Sooo, what spell didja cast on him? It’s got Jade actin’ all weird.”

“Define weird…”

“He’s stayin’ up super late to cook a buncha stuff. Keeps tryin’ to get these recipes right or somethin’ like that, and he’s bringin’ those purple flowers back from the botanical garden. S’not like him to get so…not like him, y’know?”

“Oh. Um. Uh… I couldn’t begin to explain any of his behavior. Maybe he’s just going through something?”

Floyd shrugs. “Do ya like him?”

“Like is a strong word.”

“So you love him.”

“What? No. We’re just friends.”

“So you hate him? That’s cold, Shrimpy. Jade’ll be so sad…”

“I highly doubt that.” You roll your eyes, unable to place real devastation on the face of Jade Leech. For all you know, he could just mask it with his usual simper. “I don’t hate him, but I don’t love him either. I like someone else.”

“Ooh, Shrimpy’s got eyes for another guy? Wonder who it could be.” Floyd hums, folding his arms behind his head and walking onwards. You skip after him. “Maybe it’s me? Nah. S’probably someone closer than that. Like Crabby, yeah?”

Your heart stumbles in your ribs. I can’t confess. Not now. It’s not perfect. I’m not ready.

“M-My love life is none of your business.”

“Secretive about your special someone? I getcha.” He gazes at you. “Do they know?”

“About my crush? Hard to say. If he does know, he hasn’t said anything yet.”

“Maybe ya just gotta be direct with it. Rip the bandage off. That sorta thing.”

“I want to. I really do. But…” You glance at the tiled floor. “I know he doesn’t feel the same.”

“Don’t assume stuff when ya haven’t even asked the guy.”

“But I’m positive he doesn’t like me! There’s no way he’d like me. I’m…me.”

Floyd huffs as if your self-doubt offends him. “What’s there not to like about ya? You’re great in my book.”

“It’s different. Being great and being loved—it’s not the same if it’s coming from a friend.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Why can’tcha be great and loved at the same time? Ya don’t gotta get that sorta validation from the guy you like.”

“That’s the problem. I want him to like me! I want that from him.”

“Even if he doesn’t give it to ya, s’not the end of the world.”

Without even realizing it, the two of you have made it to his dorm room. You stare at Floyd, a frown flickering on your face.

“I know. I…know. But there’s this part of me that hopes.”

Floyd leans against the wall, arms folded across his chest. “Why’s that?”

“Because he does these things that feel too intimate to be friendly and it seems like he might love me, too. No matter how hard I try, I can’t read his intentions. He’s so loud, but the meaning in all of that noise is quiet. It’s like… Like you’re drowning.”

Floyd stares blankly at you. It occurs to you that drowning may not be the best metaphor to use when explaining these complications to a merman who has never and will never know what such a phenomenon feels like.

“Wait. That came out weird. What am I even saying? Sorry, I sound silly. Just…forget that last part.”

“Sure, sure.” He pushes off from the wall and opens the door. “You ever think about practicin’ on anyone?”

“Like…CPR? To save someone from drowning?”

He gives you a confused look.

This is the worst. I’m not normally this dumb. If Jade was here— You stop that thought before it can form. I don’t need him to hold my hand through an interaction with Floyd. Come on, (Name). You can do this!

“Oh, you meant…” What the hell did he mean? “You’re talking about a confession, right?”

“Yeah, that’s it! You ever think about doin’ that with a friend? Maybe it’ll boost your confidence a li’l. Get ya ready for the real deal.”

“I have…never thought of that. Not once in my life. Nope. Never.”

Floyd ducks inside his room and plops down on a messy bed. You follow, admiring the very obvious divide in space. Jade’s half of the room is clinically clean—every possession organized and stowed away on shelves. Even his desk is spotless. Floyd’s half is chaos stuffed with chaos, entirely in messy disarray. When their differences are made so obvious, it’s almost amusing.

You spot heliotropes tucked away in a simple vase. Floyd wasn’t kidding. Jade really is attached to those flowers. At least they match his room.

“Then practice on me.”

“You… You’re serious?” You turn to look at him. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his palms.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I wanna help Shrimpy.”

“Um… You don’t have to. It’ll probably sound cringe.”

“Who knows?” He hums, smirking. “You won’t until you do it.”

You weigh your options. Practicing a confession for your crush with your crush… It could be cathartic to say everything you’ve always wanted to say without the worry that often accompanies rejection. You might even feel better afterwards.

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Promise.”

“Really promise. Like, genuinely promise. Please?”

“I really, genuinely promise not to laugh,” he parrots, holding his hand up as if swearing an oath.

You inhale a deep breath, steel your nerves, and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Okay…”

I’ve got this. It’s just a confession. A practice confession.

“I… I like you. For the longest time, I’ve been in love with you and I’ve always wanted to tell you. But… Well, it’s impossible because I never know what to say or whether it’ll be the right thing. Maybe there is no right thing.” You risk opening your eyes and find he’s focused squarely on you. Nervously, you step towards him. “You’re amazing. The coolest guy I’ve ever met. I’m so happy when I’m around you, and when we’re not together I feel like part of me is missing. Maybe that’s kinda dramatic, but it’s the truth. You’re my star. Bright and unique and effortlessly beautiful… I could admire you forever. So… So I just want you to know that…that no matter what happens—even if you don’t feel the same—you mean everything to me, and I’ll always love you.”

Floyd is unusually quiet as he sits there, absorbing your words with a flushed face. And then he reaches to scratch the back of his neck.

You fidget on your feet. “H-How was it?”

“I’m not an expert, but I’d say that was pretty damn good,” he replies with a whistle. Your heart lifts when he beckons you over. “C’mere. There’s somethin’ on your face.”

Now your heart has crash-landed in the pits of your stomach.

“Are you serious?! Why didn’t you tell me before all of that? Aah, I probably looked so stupid!” Your panicked flailing ceases when his hands settle upon your waist, coaxing you closer. “F-Floyd?”

He drags you down to his height and leans in to peck you on the lips, and your heart jumps back up into your throat. Rather than yanking yourself out of his grasp, you merely stare at him. A few seconds later and the embarrassment catches up to you.

“W-Wait… Wait, hold on! What was that for?”

He giggles. “Now it’s all gone.”

He kissed me for real this time…

You swallow rising anxieties and place your hands on his shoulders. “Can… Can I kiss you?”

“S’long as it ain’t gonna change your mind about that other guy, go for it.”

Dummy, you think, besotted. You’re that guy.

Guided by hedonistic desire, you close the distance between the both of you in the same way you once did with Jade. As humiliating as it is to admit, he was marvelous help. If not for him, you might’ve never found yourself here, kissing after a practice confession. You’ll have to thank him later.

Floyd’s lips are soft against your own, and he smiles into the kiss with a gleeful, breathless giggle. His hands are roaming along your hips, and he flops onto his bed without forewarning. You fall with him and inadvertently straddle him, your hands situated on either side of his head. You sputter your disbelief, which is soon cut short when he drags you down to meet his mouth once more. This time it’s all heady passion, more innate instinct than anything. You kiss like you’ll never have another chance, savoring saliva and a duet of sounds made in salacity.

The both of you are left breathless in the aftermath, chests heaving. If this is a dream, you never want to wake.

Floyd smiles up at you, sandwiching your face between large, strong hands. “You gonna kiss your special someone like this?”

“Maybe,” you tease with a wink. “I wonder if he prefers soft, slow kisses or quick, hungry ones… It’s hard to say with his fluctuating moods, and there are just so many ways to kiss.”

Floyd’s smile morphs into something devious, and his hands slide to your arms. You yelp when he flips you and pins you down like you’re nothing more than a portrait on a wall. You’re about to question the sudden change in position when he hoists your legs up and around his waist. He rocks his hips once, slotting himself between your thighs in a way so sensual it has you overheating. Your breath hitches.

“Then we’d better practice all of ’em, yeah?”

You nod, your voice coming out meek. “Y-Yeah…”

“Gimme some hints. I wanna know who this guy is,” he says, removing his scarf and undone tie. His blazer and hat follow suit, abandoned in the piles of dirty laundry spread around on his side of the floor.

You’re so distracted by his methodical undressing that you almost miss his demand. “O-Oh, it’s…not important.”

“It is to me. I wanna know who I’m gonna hafta squeeze for stealin’ Shrimpy’s heart.”

“Is… Is that right?” you mumble, flinching when you spot his erection straining against his slacks.

“Shrimpy’s so cute. I just couldn’t help it,” he answers your unspoken question, each syllable an octave higher with his whimsical laughter. You watch deft hands work to slide the suspenders from his shoulders before moving to unbutton his uniform shirt. You blink and it’s already thrown over his shoulder. You drink his broad build in, brazen in your assessment of chiseled planes cut in charming chiaroscuro. “So who’s the lucky guy? Is it someone I know? Someone from Octavinelle?”

“Um… It’s definitely someone…”

“Course it is. But that ain’t givin’ me any solid clues.”

His hands crawl lower, hovering just above the zip that separates you from his boxers and, additionally, his cock.

It’s actually happening… Floyd wants to do this with me… Is this real? It’s not a dream, right?

With a scintilla of courage, you lift your gaze to his face. “It’s someone from Octavinelle.”

“You sure it ain’t Jade?”

“There are plenty of people in Octavinelle who aren’t Jade.”

“Yeah, but none of ’em are cozyin’ up to ya during work.”

“Jade does not cozy up to me.” Scoffing at the absurdity of it all, you reach to undo the first few buttons on your uniform blouse. Floyd follows your fingers like they’re a laser and he’s a cat entranced. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “He’s, like, obsessed with his fungi. I think they’re more interesting to him than me.”

Floyd barks out a laugh. “Sounds about right.”

You sit up and pull your blouse from your person. At once, you feel humiliated and it’s not because of the half-nudity. Rather, it’s because the bra you’re wearing is not pretty in the slightest. Had you known you’d be rolling around in bed with Floyd, you’d have chosen something with more lace—something that’s not nearly as bland as the one you’re currently sporting.

“Well, if it ain’t Jade, who is it?”

“Guess.”

He pouts. “Shrimpy’s not bein’ very nice, makin’ me guess. You think I got every small fry’s name memorized?”

You choke on your retort when he palms you. “I… I’ll describe him.”

“Go on. I’m listenin’.” As he says this, he undoes the button on your pants, sliding them from your legs like he’s unwrapping a gift. You’re relieved your panties are, at the very least, cuter than your bra. “Don’t let me stop ya.”

“Okay… Where do I start? He’s handsome and has an unusual sense of humor, but it’s fun because he’s genuine with it. He can be a little frightening at times, but he’s never scared me. He’s so kind and he has the oddest reasons for why he does things, but he never lies about any of it.”

“Sounds like a decent guy.”

“He’s so much more than that!”

Floyd giggles and reaches for your bra next, yanking it up to free your breasts. You feel yourself getting warmer with every second he spends staring.

“It’s not Azul, is it?”

It’s a completely reasonable guess—not funny at all—but you laugh. “No.”

Floyd huffs. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re wringin’ me out here. Who is it?”

He moves to toy with your chest, but you pull him down instead. He’s so close you’re breathing him in like he’s new perfume. “Aren’t we supposed to practice kissing? Can’t do much of that if we’re talking.”

“Guess not.”

He seals the distance then, pinning you with his body. The hand that had previously been between your thighs slithers up to squeeze your breasts. He pinches and rolls your perky nipple in an effort to elicit all kinds of explicit sounds from the depths of your throat. Floyd’s tongue flashes into your mouth and you submit without struggle, allowing your own tongue to twine around his. Your hands roam without much foresight for where they’ll inevitably end up, fingers pressing into hard lines and well-toned musculature. You settle for looping your arms around his neck as you melt into him, sighing sweetly.

When he parts, you scramble to bring him back. “Floyd—”

“‘m not goin’ anywhere,” he promises, pressing his forehead to yours. He speaks softer next, as if fearing you might shove him away and flee. “You want this, right?”

“I do. More than anything.”

“You sure it ain’t gonna mess things up with you and your special someone?”

“I…” You purse your lips.

Is now a good time? It must be. It has to be! But…

“You don’t gotta tell me. Lemme know if you change your mind. I’ll stop,” he says, burying his face between your tits. Your fingers dig into his scalp and he groans when you yank fistfuls of his hair. His breath fans across your bare skin, sending pleasant shivers through your spine all the way to your toes.

You gaze at the ceiling, heart hammering relentlessly. “Thanks.”

“Mhmmm. Don’t mention it.”

Floyd peppers your chest with kisses as if it’s an empty canvas in need of affectionate paint. One hand continues to treat your nipple as if it’s his own personal stress toy while his mouth gravitates towards your other untouched bud. It hardens with his deliberate ministrations, his tongue tracing salacious circles. You gasp when the serrated points of his teeth tease your sensitive flesh next.

“Please—” it comes out reedy and raw— “Floyd, please bite me…”

“You suuure?” he asks even though the question is more playful than serious. His fingers find your panties next, hooking around the waistband to slide them down.

“I’m so sure—very sure! Please!”

You feel his amusement reverberate through you in waves when he chuckles. He tweaks your nipple harshly, and a sharp, stuttering moan slips from your parted lips. Floyd’s mouth comes off of your other nipple with a wet pop and he licks his way up to your collarbone.

“I want Shrimpy to forget all about that other guy. Only think about me right now.”

Buoyant with bliss, you hum your acquiescence. Every part of you burns with a desire so redoubtable it could be a manifestation of its own, tangible and malleable. Shaped for sex, splayed on Floyd’s mattress, entirely in the moment. You’re at his mercy, your pulse in his maw, and it’s everything.

His bite incites primal jouissance, fierce and predatory. It’s deep enough to break skin and sting, and you respond to the pleasure-pain with a keening cry. Your fingers curl into his hair to ground yourself while blood pools to the surface. Floyd’s tongue laps at the puncture. Crimson trickles from the mark when he pulls back to observe his work, his jaw stained red.

And Great Seven does he look attractive in the most agrestal, ruddy way.

He licks his lips clean, satisfaction shimmering in those enchanting eyes of his. Now that you’re looking at them, you’ve never realized just how splendid they truly are. Gold and olive-brown cut sharp, upward-angled sockets into his skull. He’s a work of art—your Galatea brought to life.

Before you can spend any more time studying him, Floyd presses two fingers against your mouth. You open wide to receive his digits, senselessly running your tongue over them without command. He giggles at this, reaching deeper until you’re choking.

“Not nice!” you exclaim after he’s pulled his hand away, his fingers coated in your saliva.

“Hee-hee. Sorry, Shrimpy.”

Remorseless. You love him.

Your moans are hissed through grit teeth when his fingers drag along your folds, just barely slipping in to sample the warmth within. You pull Floyd in for another sloppy kiss, licking into his mouth with senseless fervor and grinding down onto his hand to chase a far-off, budding climax. Floyd’s thumb glides along your clit, pushing your hood up to reveal the pert nub beneath. He sinks his slender fingers in then, two of them pushing through gummy walls without resistance. Your eyes roll back into your head when he does this, blissful relief coursing through your bloodstream.

“Oh… Haa—fuck. Thank you.”

“So pretty,” he mumbles, lazily pumping them in and out. “You’re real pretty, you know that? My pretty Shrimpy, all mine.”

“Do you… Do you really mean that?”

“Course I do. What? You don’t think so?”

“Yes—no, I mean… I… No one’s told me that before…”

Not true, your brain interrupts, oh-so-helpfully unearthing the memory despite your attempts to stifle it. Jade did. Jade thinks so.

“They wouldn’t know pretty if she stared ’em in the face.”

“Obviously not.” Your giggle rises in pitch, sounding more like a trembling cry when he curls his fingers. “Ah!”

You banish Jade to the darkest corners of your mind, willing him and his silver-tongued flattery away. Who cares if Jade thought it first? It means the most coming from Floyd.

Floyd’s smile is fond, his eyes soft. “Obviously not,” he echoes in agreement.

He works you open like you’re a blossom preening under sunlight, his fingers plucking expertly at your strings to make you sing. You writhe beneath him, breathing hot and heavy as your stomach ties itself in knots. Floyd peppers your face with a dozen kisses before gravitating towards your neck. His teeth prick your skin in a shallow bite. The mark that’s sucked into your skin next has you hissing through grit teeth. It’s such a simple act—not nearly as pleasurable as the fingers thrust up inside you—but it still draws such a wanton moan from you.

Your eyelids flutter shut, and you sink into an ocean of thoughts, imagining yourself, painted head to toe in love bites of varying severity, standing in front of a mirror to admire each one. Some could be veiled under the confidentiality of clothing, but others would be impossible to cover. Like the ones on your neck, undeniable proof of your thrilling tryst with Floyd.

“Fuck,” he hisses against your skin, needle-thin teeth catching on your shoulder. “Shrimpy’s squeezin’ my fingers suuuper tight.”

“Mm, yeah… I can’t help it. It feels—” you gasp when he presses down against your clit, those dexterous digits working you towards the bright, beautiful end— “aah… Feels so good!”

Even better now that your fantasies have finally bled into reality. You’re floating in and out of ecstasy at the perfect pace, guided by guiltless intimacy. The knots are winding themselves taut, on the verge of snapping, and you feel yourself coming undone—toes curling and lips bitten bloody while euphoria washes over you in ripples.

But then those long fingers are tugged out at once and it leaves your pussy clenching around nothing, your clit aching for attention. Tetchy and unsatisfied, your brows knitted, you lament the interruption. Your body burns and aches for proper stimulation—hungering for a release he’s so cruelly denied you.

“Fuck me. I was so close…”

“Gonna do that in a sec.”

He pulls away to shuck his pants and boxer briefs next. It’s done so fast it’s clumsy; he almost topples over in the rush. Floyd’s about to reclaim his place between your legs, but then he pauses.

“Condom,” he grumbles, a reminder more than a realization.

He leans over you to search for one amidst the junk cluttering his desk. Notwithstanding your better judgment, you grab his arm. He looks at you, and you swallow your inhibitions. Dangerous games will reward you with dangerous prizes. You know this. And yet…

“I… I wanna feel you.”

Floyd doesn’t need to be told twice. Grinning, he feels around, knocking items off in his impatience, before finally grabbing hold of a bottle of lube. He squirts a comfortable amount onto his palm and sits back to run his slick hand up his hard length. You reach down to spread yourself for his viewing pleasure, but instead he snatches your arm and flips you over onto your stomach. The change is so jarring it leaves you reeling.

“Wha—Floyd?” You crane your neck to look at him, but he pushes you back into the pillows.

“Stay there,” he says, but his voice has dropped a few decibels into something thick and husky. “Shrimpy trusts me, yeah?”

“I…do. But I wanted to look at you while—”

“Just trust me on this. I think you’ll like it.”

He rubs his palm against your flank, and you’re horrified by how easily you submit—that that’s all it takes to wheedle you into absolute obedience. With the blood rushing in your ears and your body vibrating with nervous excitement, you prop yourself on your hands and knees.

“Lemme know if it’s too much.”

“It’s okay. I can take it. Please… I’ve wanted this for so long, Floyd.”

“I can tell,” he teases, stuffing two fingers inside to open you up. The slick squelch that follows is obscene in the best way. “Shrimpy’s drownin’ my fingers. S’like an ocean.”

You bury your face in the sheets, flustered. “S-Sorry…”

“Nothin’ wrong with it. I’ve been wantin’ ya, too.” To prove this point, he seizes your hips and tugs you towards his waiting cock. It throbs against your bare cunt, and it’s so much more lewd without a rubber preventing you from feeling every prominent vein and thick inch. “I’ve always wanted you, but you never saw me.”

“You have? Do you really mean that or—”

Your question is promptly punched out of you when the fleshy head of his cock prods at your pussy, gradually pushing through rings of muscle. Inches are swallowed in slow seconds, and you suck in a sharp breath as his girth fills you. Floyd seems just as affected by the sheer bliss provided by your joined bodies, grunting behind you while your velvety heat wraps snugly around his cock. His fingers dig into your hips. Much like the stretch, it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as you imagined it might. It’s only awkward for the first few seconds, in which you and Floyd are both adjusting to every addictive sensation all at once.

“All good?”

You hum your approval, your head spinning. He’s inside me… And it’s not a dream.

“W-What about you?”

“Never been better,” he answers with a delirious cackle. “S’nice and soft inside. Cozy.”

He moves casually, experimental for all of one minute, before he draws back and snaps forwards. You’re pressed into the mattress when he bottoms out, the breath knocked out of your lungs in one fell swoop. Shakily, you force yourself back onto your arms. You don’t stay upright for very long, though, because the pace he adopts is brutal and unabating. As if he’s waited forever for this moment. As if you might never come back if he doesn’t pound you into the bed right now.

As if the world beyond his room is crumbling to pieces and this will be the only time either of you will ever have to love one another in solitude before horrible, heart-wrenching destruction.

A confession is so far from your mind with every sinful slap of skin on skin, and any coherent words you may have hoped to produce are replaced with loud love cries. When you fantasized about rolling around in bed with Floyd, you often imagined something soft and slow—a passionate build-up to inevitable climax. But this is nothing like that. This is raw and filthy and fast. And it’s so much better than the delusional masquerade you entertained with the phony Floyd.

Why did I ever rely on Jade in the first place? you think absently, clutching the sheets in curled fists. Floyd continues to fuck into you with reckless abandon, hunched over you as if you’re a prisoner groveling for mercy and he’s your beloved executioner.

Only rather than clean, cutthroat slaughter, you’re granted love in loads. It’s physical and sweaty and sticky. It has tears brimming your lash line and blurring your vision each time he hits all the right spots. It takes all of the complicated feelings you experienced while navigating an impossible situationship with Jade and dissolves them into nothing. Because with Jade it was wrong. It was a foolish, fickle farce. One too many meaningless trysts. A dangerous game spiraling out of control.

But with Floyd it’s right. Your world, once so off-kilter, corrects itself when he pins you down with his body, warm and toned and rough, and spears you with his cock. He’s your sweet Floyd, capriciousness and all, perfect in a way you just can’t explain.

And so you surrender to rising euphoria, strung along like fresh linens billowing in a breeze.

Amidst your own moans, Floyd’s groans, and the noisy plap of his hips against your soft ass, you make a mental note to end your arrangement with Jade at your earliest convenience. After all, you don’t need the fake when you have the real one.

I’ll miss his cooking, though.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Shrimpy?”

“No one in particul—aah!”

Floyd pinches your thigh good-naturedly. “No one at all?” His hand sweeps across your stomach next, palming the area as if he’s trying to feel himself buried in your guts. “You thinkin’ about that guy you like?”

“What if I was?”

“A damn shame for him,” he says, his hips stuttering to a halt. His hands make their rounds along your body, touring every inch of your nudity. You can’t see his face, but you can feel his searing gaze. “That guy’s not inside ya, is he?”

“Not physically, no.”

“What? Is he livin’ rent-free in Shrimpy’s head or somethin’?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Tell him to get lost. I wanna live up there.”

You giggle. “Will you pay rent?”

“Course I will.” He resumes his pace after a moment, albeit at a lazy, back-and-forth drag. You whine like a whore in heat, craving more than a slow, steady filling. “Bet that other guy isn’t even all that. Not a good rent-payer like me. Suuuper irresponsible and stuff. Late on his payments, y’know?”

“Mm, he’s perfect. Everything and more,” you mumble, your thoughts scrambled like eggs. It’s Jade you picture with your next admission even though you mean to describe Floyd. “He’s actually so charming once you—ooh—get to—haa—get to know him… He annoys me, but I don’t mind it.”

“Yeah?”

He grips your hips tighter, lifts your ass higher, and drives home in one rough thrust. His hold on you prevents you from crumpling, his fingers digging deep and leaving crescent-shaped indents in their wake. Your lashes flutter, eyes on the verge of rolling back into your skull.

“Mhm…”

“Hee-hee. Shrimpy’s so cute, falling apart on my dick… Bet that guy can’t do all of this.”

“Not at all! He can’t compare to you.”

Even though you don’t intend to, you envision Jade’s rictus grin then—the one he’d given you that night in the lounge kitchen when you challenged him to a dance. He’s so strange, but it’s a fun sort of strange. A strange that keeps you on edge, teetering on a precarious peak. He’s a deep-sea predator beneath that human veneer, cunning and crafty in spades, and he kissed you like he was in love that night.

It’s not love. It’s purely convenience, you remind yourself, stern. You like Floyd, and Jade isn’t Floyd.

“Jade—” you start to say, only to save yourself at the last minute— “Is… Mm—aah… Is Jade gonna be back soon?”

“Nah. S’just me and Shrimpy today.”

Shame sparks in your chest. What am I doing, calling out for Jade when Floyd’s here? I must be going crazy. I need to break it off as soon as possible.

You’ve been infatuated with Floyd for over a year now. One year of loyally loving Floyd. Not Jade. It’s never been and will never be Jade.

Chasing those conflictions away, you crawl out of your head to focus on the present. You push back against Floyd’s hips with bolstered determination, boring down on his dick to meet each of his wild thrusts. Within minutes, he’s all you can think of, flooding your brain like a tsunami. You’ve never felt so full and whole before—so connected. Carnal lust or romantic attraction aside, it doesn’t matter right now. Not when you’re swimming in bliss. Not when your emptiness has finally been filled.

All those tireless months of pining and hoping—it’s as if all of that was worth it when your wishes are granted in this very room. Even if you feel just somewhat clumsy with your movements, your body acting on its own accord, you’re relishing every second, sound, and sensation. So much so that you’re crying beneath him, overwhelmed beyond belief. Distantly, you hear him cooing at you, his voice a pleasant rumble.

You never want to come down from this seventh heaven, and you won’t because every moment spent with Floyd is utter rapture.

Floyd fucks you within an inch of unconsciousness, battering your slick, sensitive cunt like he intends to incapacitate you. The bedroom is filled with a sinful symphony of sounds, a litany of filth so loud you’re certain it can be heard down the hall. But that’s the last thing on your mind when the bundled feeling in your lower abdomen becomes unbearable, tightly wound and knotted. You strangle the sheets in shaking fists, tears falling freely.

And then, after leaning over you and getting as close as he possibly can, he wraps his hands around your neck. You startle.

“W-What’s wrong?”

“You sure there’s nothing between you and Jade?”

“Wha—no! Of course not! We’re just friends.”

“I dunno…” His fingers flex and curl inwards to apply just a little pressure. Your body stiffens, but it’s your pussy that betrays you when it clenches involuntarily. Floyd shudders against you, inhaling deeply. “You’re always smellin’ like him. Your pretty perfumes don’t do a good job coverin’ it up.”

You groan, not in the mood for this conversation. “Seriously… What is with you and smells? I’ve always smelled like me, haven’t I?”

“Can’t help it if us morays have a killer sense of smell.”

“Is it really that bothersome?”

“Would be if this was the sea.” He grips your throat with more force. Not enough to hurt you, but it has your heart spiking up into your mouth. “Guess on land it’s kinda like if you saw your special someone with another person and they were wearin’ the same shirt.”

You picture it then: Floyd with someone who isn’t you.

“Oh.”

“Yeaaah. Sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Then—” you’re cut off when his hands constrict, perilous like pythons— “Floyd—”

“Say you wanna smell like me instead. I’ll make you smell real nice.”

His phrasing doesn’t indicate there’s a choice in this matter, but you don’t need to waste time deliberating. Even though you don’t intend to stall, you can’t stop yourself. The question that’s been nagging at you ever since Jade shared insight on the matter—it tumbles free.

“What does smell mean to a moray? Is it—it’s like a tracker, right?”

“You’re halfway there, yeah.” His hips connect with your cushy ass, and his grip cuts into your airflow. The muscles in your neck twitch beneath his fingertips, survival instincts seizing hold. Your breath rattles in your lungs. “S’like makin’ it known. Like tellin’ everyone you’re together. Becomin’ a pair’s real special in the sea.”

A pair…

You want to ask about the significance in that statement—about the implications of togetherness and how that might apply to merfolk. Jade gave you glimpses during previous conversations, and ever since you’ve been wrangling with wanting to know more or keeping your curiosity to yourself. You could ask him, but you’re very acquainted with his smart mouth and his proclivity for stirring up unnecessary trouble. It’s better to hear it from Floyd.

But right now breathing is imperative.

“I want—need you… P-Please,” you rasp, blinking back tears.

It doesn’t hurt, but the pressure fills your head with fuzz. Combined with the agonizing drag of his dick within your walls, it feels almost freeing. Like he’s just pulled you out of your own mind to rejoice in the present with you.

“Promise you’ll be mine. Promise…” His voice wavers, and suddenly he sounds distraught. Fragile like an eroding sandcastle, he adds, “Promise you won’t look at him ever again…”

“I’m yours. I’m all yours.”

His hands linger for a moment longer before he releases you, content with your agreement. You inhale mouthfuls of precious, much-needed oxygen, but part of you misses the rough treatment and the feeling of his hands tightening around your throat. The idea that Floyd once held your life between his palms—that he could crush your windpipe if he so pleased—is monstrously minacious. You know you shouldn’t put your trust in Floyd’s capricious, hair-trigger behaviors, but you’ve already disregarded the risks. Safe sex be damned; you want to know love under the pressure of his thumbs, squeezed into you like he’s your only other source of air. Your savior and your star—forever your Floyd.

His lips replace his hands, stamped impatiently into your nape in bloody bites. Ribbons of warmth trickle between your shoulder blades. His hips don’t halt for a second, and it stokes the fire deep within your belly with potent insistence.

“F-Floyd, please—I’m close! I—”

“I know, Shrimpy. I gotcha.” He rubs your hip encouragingly and that’s all it takes to sweep you up in the titillating throes.

You reach your summit in the clouds with an erotic shout, your vision whiting out and arms going slack. Floyd’s groan sounds much the same when your walls clench down, and he fucks you through it mercilessly. In just a few more erratic, sloppy thrusts, in which he drives his cock as far as it can possibly go, Floyd finally empties his load deep inside. The moan that rips free from his throat is so guttural it’s nearly a growl.

You’re both so drenched in sweat, but you’re alive and vibrating with giddy, sex-drunk relief.

I love you so much, you think as you ebb away from ecstasy, pulled back like the tide.

Basking in the paradisiacal afterglow of orgasm, Floyd runs a hand through disheveled teal locks. The two of you, the sodden sheets, and even the room reeks of sex. His other hand holds you in place while he slowly ruts into you from behind, riding out the buzz in its entirety. His pelvis presses against your ass while you, knock-kneed and fucked full, drool into the pillows.

And when he slides out his spend drips from your pussy in pearly rivulets.

“Haa… Shrimpy’s the best,” he murmurs with a wicked, wild, wide-eyed smile.

You’re still panting when you come back to yourself, your head pressed into the pillow. Floyd nudges you over onto your back, and you oblige with minimal effort, lying in an exhausted sprawl. Your sight clears, color spilling in through bleary cracks.

He leans over you, assessing your hazy expression with a pleased hum. “Welcome back.”

You giggle and beckon him closer. “I’m back.”

Floyd leans down to kiss you and you reciprocate just as fiercely, your arms looping around his neck. You fall all over again, enchanted by molten kisses and wandering hands. The magic dissipates when your ringtone resounds, and you manage to tear yourself away by the third chime.

“Sorry. Let me silence it.”

“Kaaay.”

Floyd lounges on his side, the duvet draped across his hips. You crawl out of his arms to sort through the disorder on the floor. As you bend over to retrieve it, you catch him staring, his eyes following the length of your legs to the mess spattered between your thighs.

He flashes his sharp teeth at you in a broad, nonchalant grin. “It’s a pretty ass. I like what I like.”

You hold your phone up, smirking. “Pictures last longer.”

“And memories don’t, so you’d better stop by often so I won’t forget.”

“It’s a promise,” you tease, glancing at the screen as it brightens with a slew of missed messages. They’re all from Ace, and you scroll through them with mild interest. Apparently, Ace got into an argument with Grim over the pudding in the fridge. Both want it even though it has your name on it, and now Ace is being much too flattering in an effort to curry favor so that you’ll be inclined to let him have it. “He’s unbelievable…”

“Who is?”

“Ace.”

You sit on the edge of Floyd’s bed. He reads the texts over your shoulder and snorts. “Crabby tryin’ to get on your good side, huh?”

“Not sure why he’s bothering to ask, though. He steals food from me all the time. This shouldn’t be any different.”

“Maybe he likes ya.”

“As if. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah? You say that a lot.”

You crane your neck to look at him. “Do I really?”

“Mhm. If you and Jade are also ‘just friends,’ what does that make me and you?”

“I… Um. Hm.”

You watch your reflection on your darkened phone screen as it twists into something pensive. Tentatively, your fingers trace over the smooth glass. What are you and Floyd? You’re friends, but you’re also more than that. Surely, right? Friends don’t join their bodies in unholy communion. Or do they? That’s what you’ve done with Jade and you’re nowhere near romantically attached. Perhaps your relationship is some nebulous stage between friends and lovers?

Does Floyd even like me like that, or was this just a spur-of-the-moment fling?

“I…should go,” you say instead, standing up.

“Aww. But ya just got here. C’mon. Lemme get ya some water or somethin’ to eat. There’s no rush.” He reaches out for you, but you step back. His face falls. “Shrimpy…”

“Sorry. I just—it’s not your fault.” You refuse to meet his eyes as you collect your clothes from the floor, hurrying to dress yourself. “Thanks for the offer. Really, I appreciate it and this was a lot of fun. But I… I need to get back to make sure Ace and Grim don’t tear each other apart over a single cup of pudding.”

The fresh bites on your neck sting when your clothes brush against them, but nothing hurts more than Floyd’s downcast expression. You don’t want to leave, but you can’t stay and tiptoe around the answer to a question you’ve just started contemplating.

“We’ll talk later. Sorry…” You shuffle towards the door, tongue-tied and awkward. “I really did enjoy this.”

To your disappointment, Floyd doesn’t make any attempt to pursue. “See ya.”

“Yeah… See ya.”

You step out into the hall, the door shutting after you. The weight of it all comes crashing down like a disastrous surge of sea and you drag your hands over your face to stifle your regretful groan.

I messed up. I should’ve just confessed. The opportunity was right there, so why didn’t I? Why can’t I? What the hell is holding me back?

No, not a what. Rather, a who.

And you can’t bear to confront that.

Behind the door, sitting upright on Floyd’s bed, Jade musses his hair until that stray dark strand falls in its rightful place. There’s laundry to be done, and a clever cover-up must be fashioned to protect what already seems like an open secret. But right now he can’t be bothered to spring into action. Not when he’s still steeping in post-sex exhilaration, a corybantic smile etching itself onto his face.

It’s a glorious day.

“Can’t ya just dump it out if ya don’t wanna drink it?” Grim, who has spent the past three minutes observing you observing the glass vial, suggests with a harrumph. “Looks fishy. I don’t wanna drink it and I love drinkin’ stuff!”

You frown and lift it towards the window; the sun catches off the shiny surface, but its rays don’t break through murky cerulean. “Azul said I could add any part of myself to this and it would work. I added saliva, but the color went from white to this icky, impenetrable blue. It probably tastes just as bad as it looks. Gross! Now I’m not so sure I wanna uphold my end of our deal.”

“He’ll never know if you give it the slip.”

You fix Grim with a disapproving glower. “He’ll definitely know. He’s Azul.”

“I dunno what to tell ya, but if we keep chattin’ away like this we’ll miss first bell.” He hops off of the stool, lands perfectly on all fours, and struts out of the kitchen.

“Since when were you such a star student? Wait… First bell?” You gasp and dash past him. “Move, Grim! I’ll miss Floyd if I don’t hurry!”

On your way out, you tug your shoes on, taking care not to trip in your haste, and stuff the vial in your pocket.

“Jeez! Way to be a ‘star student’ and leave me to haul our heavy textbooks to Trein’s class!”

“Sorry! I’ll make it up to you at lunch! This is really important!” you call out, hurrying down the steps.

You’re breathless by the time you make it into the main building, taking in great gulps of air. A few students turn and stare, but you don’t pay them any mind as you weave through the crowded halls in search of Floyd’s classroom. You spot him then, lingering at the end of the corridor, and you hasten your gait to reach him.

“Floyd, oh, there you are! I need to talk to you. It’s about—”

“A good morning to you, too, (Name).”

Horrified, you come to a screeching halt. “Jade… Shit, I’m sorry. I thought that you—I mean, you look like Floyd from afar… Well, of course you do. What am I saying?” Inhaling a deep breath, you try again. “I don’t have time to talk. I gotta find Floyd. Also, our deal’s off. You don’t have to act like him anymore.”

“Oh my. How sudden. I wonder what brought this on.” He smiles behind a gloved fist. “Do enlighten me.”

Fidgeting from foot to foot, you glance left and right. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done. You’ve been a big help, but I’ve figured it out now. It was stupid and inconsiderate of me to make you pretend to be someone you’re not. So the game’s over. We can go our separate ways and all of this—” you gesture between him and you— “will be behind us. Done and dusted. Dead and buried. Part of the past.”

Jade tilts his head, playing clueless for another second before he decides to let it click. “Ah. I suppose this means you intend to confess? In that case, please don’t let me stop you. Floyd’s already left for his class. I doubt he’s gone very far.”

You’re already pushing past him, your nerves riddled with hope. “Thanks! See you around!”

“It was an enjoyable month.”

Taking pause, you turn to look at him. Even though his hand is across his chest and he’s issuing you a cordial smile, you can’t tell if he’s being truthful. It can’t have been all that enjoyable to play such an elaborate part. Or perhaps it’s not the part but rather the delights that came with it: dinner, conversation, and companionship. If it weren’t for these unorthodox methods, you and Jade wouldn’t be nearly as close as you are now.

Somehow you’ve become friends in all of this chaos.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure. It was definitely…a month.”

Before awkwardness can balloon between the both of you, you step into a sprint and disappear around the corner. Confidence swells within you. Now that you’ve emptied your mind of Jade, you can focus entirely on Floyd and your very impromptu confession.

There really wasn’t anything there after all, you think as you round another corner. I can’t believe I got worked up over something so silly, and it was completely nonexistent!

As if foretold by fate itself, a meeting strung in the stars, you notice Floyd at the end of the hall. Unable to contain yourself, you run the rest of the way to catch him. The morning bell resounds then and students heed its toll, filing into their respective classrooms. But you’re here for someone who’s so much better than your perfect attendance record, and he happens to be looking your way.

“Hey, it’s Shrimpy! Whatcha up to?”

“Morning, Floyd! Do you have a minute? I was hoping we could talk.”

He nods. “Wasn’t really feelin’ class anyways.”

“Yeah, same here!”

“So what’s up? You have somethin’ to tell me?”

“Right! Yes!”

I have to tell him. I can’t keep running away.

“It’s about that day… Um. I… First of all, I’d like to apologize for being weird and ruining the mood. I didn’t know how to explain our relationship, but I’ve sorted it out now. And if it’s okay with you, I’d like to be more than friends.”

Floyd blinks at you, stone-faced. That can’t be a good sign.

Endeavoring to salvage this one-sided chat, you attempt to elaborate on your previous declaration. “You asked what we were that day and I… I couldn’t give you an answer because I was scared of admitting it, and I had no idea where we’d go from there. The truth is—I really like you. A lot. I have for a while now, and if you like me I wouldn’t mind making it official.”

You’re doing fine, you tell yourself, but you’re wringing your hands and Floyd won’t stop looking at you like you’ve grown fins.

“Oh, I get it,” he says after a long moment. “So Shrimpy likes me? That right?”

You nod. Anxiety squeezes your heart in a fierce fist.

“I’m flattered. Not every day a li’l Shrimpy tells me she’s got a thing for me.” Floyd grins and stuffs his hands in his pockets. You’ve imagined this same scenario a dozen times, but your brain never accounted for how casual he’s acting. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t accept your feelings.”

“W-What?”

You…misheard him, right? He didn’t just say that, did he?

“I think you’re super cool, but that’s it.” He shrugs. “S’better stayin’ friends, ain’t it? ’Sides, you and Jade are pretty close. Not gonna lie, I thought you were a pair this whole time. Didn’t know it was this serious, though.”

Much like the blood pumping through your veins, your heart freezes over. “N-No… No, not at all! Jade and I are just friends.”

“C’mon, Shrimpy. I’m not stupid.”

“I… I don’t understand. Floyd, we… We…” You swallow encroaching tears and bolster the ebbing strength in your voice. “Did our time together mean anything to you?”

“Course it did! Still does. We’re friends. That’s not gonna change.” Floyd cards a hand through his hair and sighs. “Shrimpy, you’re great and all, but if you’re with Jade you don’t gotta lie to me. I’ve been smellin’ him on ya since day one.”

“But we’re not together!” He raises a disbelieving brow, and you groan. “I’m serious. I don’t know why I smell like him. We don’t wear the same perfumes. Wait. Does Jade even wear perfume? I don’t think I’ve ever heard him talk about it. So maybe you’re just smelling my perfume! That has to be the reason—”

Floyd gives your shoulder a consoling squeeze. “I’m not mad or anything. S’cool if you wanna mess around with Jade. I don’t care what you do.” His face darkens with a frown. “Just don’t lie about the obvious.”

“But I’m not lying! We’re not an item or couple—whatever it’s called! I… I like you, Floyd. I always have.”

“Maybe ya shoulda figured that out before ya started lettin’ Jade mark ya.”

Shock and revulsion prickle your skin. You open your mouth to object, but every rational explanation remains jumbled. Floyd issues you a lopsided grin, which adds even more salt to an already gaping wound.

“Hey, if it makes ya feel any better, Jade’s a good guy. He’ll look out for ya. ’Sides, Shrimpy’s better off with a responsible type.” He reaches out to ruffle your hair, but you step away.

All of those times where you thought Floyd may have been courting—the flirty remarks, the perfume, the kiss, and even the sex—were those merely platonic gestures twined with friendly affection? You may have been able to believe the others, but you’re certain there’s a line between platonic and romantic. And sex must fall in the latter category. It has to. If not, was it all just temporary, fleeting fun?

Were you just an experience for Floyd and his mercurial mannerisms? A new toy for his enjoyment, intended to occupy his mind for however long you proved your worth and shelf life.

You turn swiftly on your heel, your throat closing up. “T-Thanks for hearing me out, at least,” you mutter, blinking away hot tears. “I… I’ll see you later.”

If you weren’t so devastated, you’d have commended yourself for your impeccable restraint. You manage to walk away without sparing him a single glance, but the minute you’re out of sight and earshot you’re running through the desolate halls, seeking solace in solitude. The tears come with the ache, a pain so gutting it has you near-wailing as you navigate labyrinthe passages. You hardly care if any straggling students spot you. You’re too crestfallen to fret over what others might think when they look at you.

Heartache headlines your thoughts as you stumble into a stagger, your chest heaving from the run and your excessive bawling.

I know it was stupid to have hope, but I was so positive I had a chance… It seemed that way when we slept together, so what happened? What changed? You wipe furiously at your face, but it does nothing to stop the incessant downpour. This is a mess. I never should’ve confessed. I did everything wrong. And what’s worse is he didn’t take me seriously because he thinks I’m dating his brother!

It doesn’t make any sense, but then this drastic change of heart is so characteristic for Floyd that you struggle to think of any other valid causation.

Did he get bored of me? Am I really that terrible to hang out with? You shake your head. It’s not that. It’s Jade and his stupid scent and that stupid marking and—

You feel the vial in your pocket then, straining against form-fitting fabric. Sniffling weakly, you dig it out and peer at your blotchy-eyed reflection in the glass.

I might as well see what this potion does. I have nothing else to lose, and there’s no way I can go to class looking like this.

As if your body was subconsciously aware of your decision to skip, you find yourself standing in the Mirror Chamber minutes later. Quiet and dimly lit, the room has a certain coldness to it when you venture further inside and approach the Dark Mirror. Your distressed face blinks back at you from the blank surface, and you cringe once you notice the smudges in your makeup.

“I’m such a loser,” you mutter, scrubbing at your cheeks. “Crying like a baby over some guy…”

A guy who meant the world to me. A guy who was so much more than just some guy.

You yank the cork out of the vial and, steeling yourself, chug it in one determined gulp. It goes down bitter, tainting your tongue with a foul, brackish aftertaste. Disgusted, you wipe your lips and stuff the empty glass in your pocket.

“(Name)?”

You whirl, half-expecting to find Floyd waiting to accept you with open arms. Instead, Jade stands in the doorway. His brows are knit in concern. Authentic concern, you realize. Tears overflow at the sight of him, tracking down your cheeks in salty streaks.

“I do hope I’m not intruding.”

“You are. Go away.”

Undeterred, Jade covers the distance to reach you. “My apologies. I couldn’t help but notice you seem to be in dire need of a friend.”

You force out a sardonic laugh. “Right. Because you’re just the friend I want.”

“At the very least, may I offer my condolences? I can only assume the worst after seeing the state you’re in.”

“You just did. Now leave. I don’t want to see anyone right now, especially not you.” But he isn’t offended by the hostility in your voice. Rather, he procures a handkerchief from his uniform pocket and offers it to you. Heaving a defeated groan, you snatch it and blow your nose into the soft linen. “I don’t suppose you want something in return for your kindness?”

“Not at all. If anything, I merely wish to see your happy, dry face.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll feel much better once you get lost.”

“And leave you to mourn all by your lonesome? I couldn’t possibly.”

You dab at your eyes with the sodden, snotty handkerchief. “It’s not funny.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” Jade smiles and bumps hips with you. “If it’s worth anything, there is so mush-room in my heart for you.”

Your face scrunches with odium. “Ew… That’s so cheesy.” You’re reminded of Floyd when you look at him, and it fills you with another bout of anguish. Why can’t he be Floyd? You bury your face in your hands and sob. “This is the worst! I wanna disappear. Drown in the Coral Sea and get lost forever. Then no one would ever have to see me like this and I’ll never have to face Floyd again.”

“Surely you don’t mean that.”

“I do. Now leave me be. I wanna wallow in peace.” When you fail to hear his shoes clicking against tile, you peek at him through the cracks in your fingers. “It’s hopeless, Jade. Floyd doesn’t feel the same. There’s still no way for me to go home. And now I don’t even know if Azul’s potion is going to work, which means I’ll be breaching our contract!”

“Quite the series of unfortunate events, no?”

“So please just go away.”

Sighing, you press your fingertips to the Dark Mirror’s warped surface and admire the ripples spreading outward from where your palm rests. It’s almost hypnotic, drawing you in with its alluring opacity. You lean closer to inspect the cloudy mirage, placing both hands against it, but that proves to be a grave mistake. Tugged in by some invisible force, you stumble and fall through. You don’t have time to scramble to safety, for there’s a blinding flash of light and then you’re engulfed in smothering silence.

You feel it first—the weightless cradling of waves—and when you open your eyes a stunning seascape greets you. The sandy floor and colorful coral reefs extend in endless stretches. Schools of fish pass overhead in a mosaic of hues. You gape at your mystical surroundings, realize you’re underwater right as the awe settles in, and hurry to swim to the surface. But when you try to kick your legs out, a tail moves instead, sloppily propelling you upwards. You somersault and flail like you’re falling, but you aren’t drowning. In fact, you can breathe.

Whoa. This is so strange. How exactly do I swim?

It takes an awkward minute for you to get a hold of your bearings, but once you do you take stock of your newfound mer anatomy. Your hands are webbed, fingers curling into sleek, sharp claws, and fins protrude from your arms and back. They flutter like fine skirts in the current. Your tail is just as fetching; speckled with red and pink shades, it matches the coloration found on your other fins.

“So that’s what Azul’s potion does,” you mutter, flexing your tail. “Amazing…”

You feel along your body for scales and gills, yelping when your fingers brush over the latter. They’re soft and sensitive, shuddering in the current.

I’m a mer…

It finally sinks in, and you roll around in the sand, whooping and shouting in excitement.

“I’m a mer! How cool is that?!”

You push off from the sea floor, testing your new tail with a few clumsy strokes. Much to your surprise, it doesn’t take very long for you to learn the motions. Within minutes you’re gliding through the water like a bullet. You hug the bottom of the ocean, running your fingers through the sand as you swim expert circles around the same rock formation.

Suddenly, your broken heart doesn’t feel so cumbersome anymore. Your tears mix in pelagic waters, but after touring your vast surroundings for a while you can’t even tell if you’re still crying. While keeping up with the current, you swim past an octopus who drags itself across the sandy floor, its muddy-orange tentacles curling like snakes.

“So pretty,” you whisper, smiling sadly. “I wish Floyd was here…”

It hurts.

There’s no way to circumvent the pain without further opening the emotional lacerations left by rejection and misunderstanding. If you had smelled like yourself, would he have accepted your confession? Would the two of you be walking through the halls, holding hands and chatting like a couple? Or would it have played out the same regardless of Jade’s involvement with you?

If Floyd never loved you to begin with, that would mean all of your practice confessions and subsequent embarrassment were for naught. Maybe Jade was right and this entire thing was nothing more than an amusing spectacle.

Thanks a lot, Jade, you think, seething. Instinctively, you scrub your tears away even though there’s no point to it when you’re surrounded by water. How did I even start smelling like him in the first place? We didn’t wear the same shirt or anything like that… Ugh. Morays are so confusing.

But, gripe and whine as you might, there’s nothing you can do to change an immutable fact: Floyd does not love you.

And it really hurts.

You know the sadness will soon subside and, months later, you’ll look back on this very moment and laugh about your misfortune. Despite that, the passage of time and its healing properties don’t provide an iota of relief.

Don’t think about it anymore. You turn over on your back and float through the water. Since I’m here, I should gather the supplies Azul wanted.

You rack your brain for the list and come up empty. It’s then when you realize Azul never shared this list with you and that, had you visited him prior to your emotional tragedy, he likely would have told you.

“Damn it! Now how am I supposed to get what he wants?” you complain, thrashing your tail as if it’s your legs and you’re trying to throw a tantrum. “I could guess… Or maybe he wants a little of everything?”

You attempt to put yourself in Azul’s head, concentrating on all of the spell ingredients you’ve learned in alchemy class, but none of them seem to fit what Azul might be seeking. After all, anyone can acquire seaweed and shells and mer’s tears. Azul must be after the scarcities of the sea. What those scarcities could be, you haven’t the faintest inkling.

The sea floor slopes down, and you follow the dip towards what looks to be the yawning mouth of an underwater grotto. It certainly looks so with its massive stalactites and stalagmites, which reminds you of the crooked maw of a beast. It would have been a foreboding sight if you came down here with a limited supply of oxygen and scuba fins, but you’re a mer and nothing can startle you. Not even the depths at which you exist.

You poke your head inside the opening. Before you can investigate any further, though, a shadow passes overhead. It slips through the water like a silent assassin. You’re not unnerved when you track the length of the perimeter, looking to and fro for the mysterious figure you caught in your peripheral, but the longer you spend looking the quieter your surroundings become.

The fish scatter.

And then terror descends, only he’s a familiar one. He’d be a sight for sore eyes if he wasn’t such an eyesore.

“You’re living up to your surname.”

He smiles, teeth glinting. “My, my. Aren’t you just tickled pink?”

“Which is weird because all I see is red when I look at you.”

“Is that so? The depth at which we’re at swallows most vibrancy, and yet you remain wonderfully bright. Are you sure you’re not a fallen star?”

You fix him with a nasty glare, but it does nothing to deter him. “Seriously… Why are you here?”

He circles you, his serpentine body winding slowly. “Would you believe me if I told you I came to check on you?”

“Depends. What’s your reason for checking on me?”

“As I’m sure you know, Azul is not partial to insolvency.”

You slide past him, smacking him with your caudal fin. “Good to know I’m so cherished.”

“I wouldn’t dare let a dear friend drown. I’ve heard drowning is very miserable business for humans.”

“More miserable than a broken heart?”

He catches up to you. His size easily overtakes you in length and strength, marking him as a formidable predator. Even with your claws, you can’t compete with his pointed teeth, sleek, sturdy build, and razored fins. He’s a natural hunter, whereas you feel like more of an ornamental fish in comparison.

“Depends. Will you recover from death?”

“I’ve spent so much time with you, so I’d say it’s possible.”

“And I was ready to save you should you find yourself in peril.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s about as comforting as a blatant lie.”

A few beats pass between the both of you. You don’t try to fill the silence, too busy fawning over your aquatic surroundings to bother. Jade analyzes you with furtive glimpses.

“I’m aware our deal is void and that I’m no longer your Floyd…” He swims closer, nudging you with his shoulder. “May I be your Jade instead? You can be my grouper.”

“Your what?”

“Many mages believe transformation potions provide insight into what species you may have been if you weren’t born in your current form.”

“So you’re saying, if I was a mer like you and Floyd, I’d be a…grouper? Is that what I am?”

“A strawberry grouper, to be precise. Very fitting, is it not?”

“Would Floyd like me better if I had been born a grouper instead of a human?”

Jade laughs. You swat at him in flustered retaliation. “It has nothing to do with species.”

“It has everything to do with species,” you snap with a scowl. “Wasn’t the mermaid princess forbidden from pursuing a relationship with her human prince?”

“That’s true, yes. Although I fail to see your point, considering it worked out in the end.”

“What I’m saying is—if we were both mers, maybe it’d be easier.”

“I suppose it would be considerably easier to foster a deeper bond if you lived in the sea alongside us, but I’m afraid love doesn’t always work like that.”

“How would you know?”

Jade gazes heavenward, and for the first time you see sadness in his sharp, intelligent eyes. “I’ve fallen in love with the moon and she is forever out of my reach, so I know what it’s like to wish on something that may never happen. Sometimes I catch myself wondering if the dismal nature of my situation would change if I had been the singular star in her universe. Perhaps then she would finally see me.” He glances at you and attempts a smile. “There are galaxies of stars up there, but the star she fancies happens to shine brighter than me.”

Oh… So he does know what that feels like.

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“I don’t know. I guess it just felt like the right thing to say.” Your shoulders rise in a weak shrug. “The moon is impossible, Jade. Your romance is doomed.”

“All the more reason to appreciate her.”

“Why haven’t you given up?”

Jade swims ahead, humming his contemplation. “There are astounding amounts of everything in this world. There will always be plenty of fish in the sea—just as there will always be plenty of humans on land. But there is only one of her. So even if she doesn’t look at me, even if our romance has been doomed from the start, I will never stop loving her. She’s the only one in my universe.”

“Huh… That’s a beautiful way to put it. If it’ll help, I can act like her and you could practice your confession.”

“We’ve come full circle. Perhaps a confession wouldn’t hurt… Ah. Forgive me for adding to your despondency with my own woes.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” But then you reflect on his familiar phrasing and a sneaking suspicion crawls into your head. Unwilling to confront it, you change the subject. “So what’s the real reason you’re here? To watch me struggle to collect all of these unnamed things for Azul?”

“I considered that, but it would be much too cruel of me to subject you to such ridicule.”

“You’re an asshole. Just tell me what I’m supposed to get.”

With a chuckle, Jade rattles off every item. You recognize some of them—pearls, starfish, a Great White’s tooth—but the rest are resources you’ve never even heard of.

“Noctiluca… What’s that?”

“Bioluminescent algae.”

“Oh. Are you sure we’ll be able to find all of this stuff? Some of it sounds, like, super rare.”

“It’s possible. With me as your guide—”

“You’re really going to stick around?”

“And let you swim right into the maw of a predator? I’m not monstrous.”

“You sure you’re not that predator?”

Jade swims ahead, craning his neck to eye you hungrily. His lengthy tail curls around you and squeezes playfully. “Shall I hunt you now and we can determine which of us is the true predator?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

“It’s simply a hypothetical.”

“Why would we even hunt each other in the first place?” You duck down to sift through the silt for shells or, if you’re lucky, a shark’s tooth. “I thought we had something.”

“Do we?”

It’s too late for you to take that back. “We have mutualism,” you correct yourself, pulling a palm-sized pink conch from the sand.

“Some might call that friendship, (Name).”

“Friends with you? As if. You’d trade me for this shell just because it’s funny.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. You’re worth more than one, at least.” Jade joins you on the seabed, his larger, webbed hands searching alongside yours. “Your companionship is invaluable to me.” His hand bumps yours in the sand, blackened fingertips twining with yours.

“You know… Floyd told me something.” You grip his hand tightly to prevent him from retreating. With the way he perks up, muscles stretched taut with anticipation, you don’t think he intends to flee. “He said you’re awfully touchy with me and that you’re not usually like this.”

“You provide me with the most entertaining reactions. Besides—” his voice lowers for effect— “was touch not the foundation of our deal?”

“Not anymore.” You release his hand from your hold and dart forwards. “Although I guess it was kinda pointless. All of that just to be rejected by Floyd in the end.” You round on him once he’s within your proximity, prodding his chest with a claw. “Because now he thinks I’m dating you. Apparently I smell like you. I have no idea what that could mean, but it obviously isn’t a good thing if it’s one of the reasons Floyd turned me down.”

“Plenty of mers scent their partners. It’s territorial—a means of proving to others that they’re a bonded pair. It’s also convenient when they need to locate their beloved in a crowd.”

The conch falls from your hands, floating back to its resting place on the sandy floor. Shocked, you pin him with a wide-eyed stare. “You… You’ve been…scenting me?”

He nods.

“On purpose?”

“Just for fun.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief. So Jade sabotaged your chances with Floyd. Jade did. All for fun. Jade was scenting you on the sly. For fun. Fun!

Now you’re really viewing him in scarlet.

“Jade Leech, I’m going to kill you!” You lunge at him, blunt teeth bared and claws out. He opens his arms to receive you, smiling all the while. “You did that on purpose—to prevent me from getting with Floyd! What the fuck?!”

You crash into him, and the impact sends the two of you tumbling through the water in a tangle of limbs. He indulges in this one-sided snafu, albeit without the hostility you’re so clearly demonstrating. Jade wraps himself around you to hold you still while you attempt to gouge his eyes.

Soon, the scrap mellows out into a struggle for escape. You try to slip out of his constrictive grasp, but every time you think you might have attained freedom he tightens his hold on you. Eventually, with no other way out, you submit, deflating in his arms like a popped balloon.

“If you wanted a hug, you could have asked. There’s no need to be so circuitous about it.”

“The last thing I want is a hug from you! Now let go of me!” He allows you to squirm out of his coils. You swim in circles, which you now realize is the mer equivalent of pacing. “I can’t believe you. What did you have to gain from any of this? ‘Just for fun,’ my foot! You just wanted to ruin my life like the stupid, asshole eel you are!”

“I was hoping to cushion you after the inevitable.” Jade tilts his head at you, feigning sympathy. “Did you really think Floyd would have reciprocated? You heard him yourself. He considers you a friend. Nothing more and nothing less.”

“Cushion me? The only thing you did was make me smell like I rolled around in the cushions with you!” You swipe at him, but he moves away on reflex. “If Floyd sees me as a friend, why would he sleep with me?”

“So that’s why our room smelled so thickly of you.”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“Then don’t ask dumb questions.”

He’s the worst, you think, repeating it like a mantra. The worst. The worst. The worst.

But then he’s the only one who chases after you even when you push him away.

At that, you laugh. Jade blinks at you, startled by your sudden shift in attitude.

“This is a mess,” you bewail, shaking your head. “Out of all the people at NRC, I can’t believe you’re the one seeing me like this.”

“How many times has it been now?”

“Shut up.”

Jade chuckles. “You may find it undesirable, but to me it’s quite the charming trait. Even at your worst, tears and all, you’re still yourself. It’s what I admire most about you.” He approaches you, minding the icy vitriol in your scowl, and cups your cheek. “After all, did we not agree to be a mess together?”

You meet his mismatched stare, openly admiring his well-sculpted body and the patterns striped along his arms and tail. There isn’t an ounce of Floyd to his mannerisms. From the way he carries himself to the purr of his voice to the irritating quips he loves to spout, he’s Jade. And you wouldn’t have him any other way. He is your friend, and denial isn’t enough to convince you otherwise of this dysfunctional, disorganized friendship.

Sighing, you tear your gaze away. “We’re a mess, yeah. But that doesn’t mean I’m okay with smelling like you! That’s such a dirty trick!”

“I can be dirtier if it pleases.”

“It does not please! Start counting your blessings so I can properly kick your ass!”

“I wish you luck in that endeavor,” he says, offering you a toothy grin before turning away and propelling himself towards the surface.

You watch him go, debating whether it’s worth it to pursue him. This feels like the beginning of another game, but you can’t calculate the danger level. It’s the ocean; the possibilities are just as vast.

You’re an enigma, Jade Leech. I’ll never understand you.

Leaving all thoughts of Floyd and your shattered heart on land—stowed away in the shadows of the Mirror Chamber—you accept his proposal for a chase. He doesn’t have to tell you he’s pleased when you zip after him, weaving through the tight crevices and openings in hulking rock formations. Your shadow eclipses colorful coral reefs and tall seagrass. Jade moves much smoother and quicker than you, sensing all of the twists and turns before they even come up.

Of course he’d be a natural, you think, impressed with his graceful slither. He grew up in these waters playing tag. He and Floyd have probably chased each other through places just like this one hundreds of times.

Still, you aren’t about to let your inexperience get in the way of capturing him.

Between your on-off hunt and collecting ingredients for Azul, in which Jade goads you into continuing the chase when you least expect it, time passes above. You’re not sure how far into the day you are, as your surroundings hardly change beneath the surface, but you forget all about it when you swim through a kelp forest in hopes of finding a starfish. Even with your heightened mer senses and predatory assets, you keep close to Jade as the both of you glide through strands of kelp.

“When I was an elver, I used to believe starfish were stars who fell from outer space.”

You flinch at the sound of his voice. Everything seems much louder in tranquility. “Oh. Uh. Why’s that?”

“My mother often told us that merfolk who have passed on become stars in the sky and that there are times in which those same stars yearn for the sea. But they can never hope to return naturally, for they are bound to the sky. Thus, they force themselves to fall, lose their shine when they land in the ocean, and become sea stars.”

You keep your eyes glued on the stretching forest ahead. “That’s neat. I probably would’ve believed that story if I was a mer. We tell all kinds of stories about merfolk where I’m from.”

“Is that so?”

“Merfolk don’t exist in my world, so they make for great legends.”

“A world in which merfolk are nonexistent… How fascinating.” Jade gazes at you, his hand twitching towards yours. Rather than acting on his innermost desires, he curls his hand into a fist and it hangs limply at his side. “You must have been over the moon to have met Floyd.”

“And you and Azul!” you add with a smile. “And I have you to thank for teaching me all about moray mers.”

“I’d be happy to teach you more, should you be willing to learn…”

Jade’s looking at your lips next. The both of you are so close. Just a little closer and you could…

“Hey, I think I see a starfish!” You hurry ahead before the tension can become any more magnetizing.

Do not make him your rebound, you lambaste while retrieving the star-shaped creature. If you had legs, you’d kick some sense into yourself. Just because he looks like Floyd doesn’t mean he is Floyd.

You bring the starfish back to Jade, who bottles it in a bubble and whisks it away with a flick of his wrist. You’re not sure where any of these items are going or how he’s keeping track of them, but as long as they’re gathered you aren’t going to question it. Magic works in mysterious ways, or so you’ve determined after spending a year of your life in Twisted Wonderland.

From there, you return to your place at Jade’s side, albeit with a healthier distance than before, and exit the kelp forest. You scan the vast vicinity as if you might find something unusual amidst all of this blue. It reminds you of every Floyd fantasy you’ve ever had—the ones in which you were living happily ever after in the sea. As ideal as those delusions were, you realize now that they were just as impossible as Jade’s infatuation with the moon.

“It wouldn’t have worked anyway,” you admit, to which Jade hums his acknowledgment. “What would I do if Crowley was able to send me home? How could I choose between my loved ones there and my loved ones here?”

“Perhaps you’ll never have to choose.”

“What do you mean?”

“Supposing the headmage is shirking his investigation… Well, that would certainly eliminate the difficulty of choice.”

You laugh. “The first magicless student to graduate from Night Raven College. What a headline.”

“Sensational news,” he adds in a dramatic tone.

“As if the illustrious NRC and the oh-so-kind Headmage couldn’t get any popular.”

Jade chuckles. “Have you thought that far ahead?”

“What? About the future?” You slide into a somersault while Jade swims above you. He stares down at you as you spin yourself dizzy. “Don’t want to. I have no idea where I’ll be after graduation or what I’ll do. It kinda scares me.”

“You’re more than welcome to lean on me should you ever require my assistance.”

“What’s that thing Azul always says? Pay the heavy toll to cross the bridge? I’d like to graduate debt-free, thank you very much.”

“I’ll always be here for you.”

You blink up at him, shocked by his benign declaration. After a moment of floating aimlessly on your back while he swims overheard, you giggle. “Come on. Be real, Jade. That’s impossible.”

“Is it? You’re a mermaid, are you not?”

“Yeah, but that’s temporary. Besides, a deal like that is way too mutualistic. We’d just seem like obligations to one another.”

“Must it be transactional?”

“What else would it be?”

“A friendly favor.”

“I don’t trust that… Somewhere along the line I’ll get trapped in a scam.”

“And I will rescue you.”

You roll your eyes and turn over on your stomach, propelling yourself forwards in hopes of leaving him and this conversation behind. He mirrors your slow pace, twisting himself to loop around so that you’re above and he’s below. He waves. You groan.

He just won’t quit, will he?

“Okay, let’s be hypothetical. Say I accept your help for the future. What would you want in return?”

“What indeed?”

“I doubt you’ll want a lifelong taste-tester.”

He shakes his head, soft, teal locks swaying with the motion. Bathed in dappled light, he looks breathtaking. Too good to be true. An echo of the supernal, enchanting and arresting in that weird, whimsical way you’ve grown to appreciate.

He’s so annoying.

“Then what, Jade? Stop being obtuse.”

He smiles, sharp features softening, and says, “I would like to continue being your friend.”

“That’s all?”

He nods. “That’s all.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, what do you think I might want?” He reaches for you, his hands running up your arms to tug you closer. “If I asked for your hand, would you give it?”

You float above him, not quite chest to chest yet. “Marital mutualism, huh?”

“It’s cost-effective and comes with many benefits.”

“Like?”

“You could be my taste-tester indefinitely. I would cook for you every day. All of your favorite foods, and you can share your critique.”

“You’re not selling it,” you mutter, impassive.

He pulls you within kissing distance. “You can continue to hone your techniques with me.”

You open your mouth to retort, embarrassment scraping at your throat, but a distant twinkle in the dimming depths distracts you. There’s another flash of light and then, seconds later, dozens of lights surround you. You swim out of his grasp to explore this curiosity, your confusion segueing into excitement once you spy hundreds of bright tendrils. Moon jellyfish illuminate the area, casting you and Jade in bewitching bioluminescence. You whirl to view all of them at once, your eyes wide with wonder.

“It’s amazing…” you whisper.

Jade observes you from where he lurks in the shadows below, a wistful look in his stare. It adds deceptive age to his youthful features, but you don’t notice that. Bold and brave, you venture deeper into the fray, weaving through the fantastical cluster with finesse. The jellyfish hang suspended in the gloom, and they remind you of little lanterns the further you swim. This sight is a treasured rarity—something you’d never be able to experience firsthand like this if you were viewing it through thick aquarium glass.

This view is breathtaking! I can’t believe Jade and Floyd grew up in such a wonderful place.

On any other day, the boundless sea may have terrified you if you were reading about it in a textbook or watching divers’ found footage. But right now you’re in awe of these magnificent creatures as they drift in calm currents. Your first visit in the Coral Sea had been on a strict time crunch, and you hadn’t gotten the chance to explore any further than the grounds of the Atlantica Memorial Museum. The second visit had been one of leisure, if only because you were no longer arranging gambles with Azul in an effort to free the anemones. And now you’ve returned, equipped with fins and the promise of unforgettable sights.

And Jade’s with you.

He was there for your previous times, too, his presence mostly unremarkable. While you were loving Floyd from afar, he was there. You’ve always wondered why he stayed and entertained your mischief. You’re not anyone’s dream girl; you’ve never been the first choice, and that’s a part of life you’ve made peace with.

When you’re with Jade, you’re made the first and last choice. The only choice.

“Jade, are you seeing this? It’s so pretty! You’re—” you turn and almost bump heads. He’s so close and— “glowing…”

“My, my. Is that a bona fide compliment?”

“No. I’m serious. You’re glowing!”

He’s something of an angler with his mesmerizing markings. The patterns on his body are bright with a shocking luminosity, so radiant that you lose all interest in the jellyfish. You’re transfixed by him, and it’s purely instinct when you seize his hands to inspect them. He shrinks away, diffident.

“Ah. So it would seem… Forgive me for outshining the jellyfish.”

Your brows furrow. “You’re being weird.” Releasing him, you orbit him like he’s the sun and you’re a spellbound planet. He continues to pack himself into something small. “Are you not supposed to glow?”

“This is a perfectly normal facet of moray mer behavior.”

“So then what’s up? You’re avoiding me.” It hits you then, and a wide grin cuts into your cheeks. “Are you…embarrassed?”

Jade flushes up to his fins. You didn’t think it was possible, but the intensity at which he glows increases. “I fear I may have underestimated my own biology.”

“This is new! Jade Leech acting shy? I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

He forces a hollow chuckle. “I suppose it was inevitable.”

“What was?”

“This is the culmination of any mer’s attraction.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest. “Wait. Is this—does this mean you…”

“When mers wish to mate or attract a mate, they… Well, to be forthright, we glow. Floyd and I are bioluminescent by nature, but this glow is different. Ah, but that much is now apparent…”

You stare at him in all of his coruscating glory. “You want to mate with…me?”

“If you’ll have me.”

“Oh, you’re serious,” you murmur, breathless. Hesitantly, you approach him. “Then can I—may I take a closer look?”

“Please do as you see fit. Body language can’t possibly get any more candid than this now, can it?”

You giggle. “Seems pretty treacherous, too.”

“To think biological imperative would be my undoing…”

Your hand splays across his bicep, tracing the luminous bands wrapped around it. He really is a magnificent merman.

One more game, you promise yourself, restraint as thin as Jade’s lukewarm lies, and we’ll never play again.

“I like it. This is the most honest you’ve ever been with me.”

“Charming, is it not?”

“Very.”

He gathers you in his arms, and you mold yourself to him like you’ve done so many times in the past. You’re taken to the seafloor next, lowered onto the sand amidst wavering seagrass while he presses his pelvis to yours. You scrabble for a handhold on his broad shoulders, arching up into him when he rocks his hips. His tail winds around yours, and he anchors himself to you at the bottom of the sea. Above you, jellyfish swarm. Bulbous and bright, they backdrop Jade like a velvety void of stars and provide enough spotlight for you to see every inch of him. Although with just how much he shines, you wouldn’t even need the jellyfish.

If anything, they just make this tryst even more quixotic than it already is.

“After this—”

You start to speak, but you’re soon silenced when he fits his lips against yours, viciously venereal. Jade’s tongue slips past your parted lips, tangling around yours in a kiss that lasts far too long. Without the need for oxygen, neither of you separates. You throw your arms around him and kiss like you’re starved. Bubbles rise from your joined mouths, produced between gasps and groans. His teeth click against yours, and after minutes of canoodling you finally manage to yank yourself away.

Jade surges forward for another kiss, but you block him with your hand. “H-Hold on…”

“Is everything all right?”

“What will we be after this?”

“What would you like to be?”

You grab his face in both hands and hold him still. Your thumbs brush the markings stamped into his cheekbones. Jade trills at your touch, gills fluttering. A tiny heartbeat thrums beneath your fingertips.

“I… I’m not sure. Is it worth it to label our—this? Whatever this is?”

“Our mess. How does that sound?” His hand covers yours, pulling it away to hold it. “An exclusive dalliance between two.”

Friends with benefits, you think, every sense delirious. Desire feels hotter and heavier than it’s ever been, a puissant swirling in your stomach. You wonder if the potion altered your brain chemistry in some way—temporarily rewired your human instincts to suit that of a mer’s. That’s way too dangerous.

“And you’ll be yourself. You’ll be Jade, right?”

“I wouldn’t be anyone else, my dearest.”

“Let’s not go too far,” you warn, laughing. “Thin ice.”

“Is ‘my dearest’ not to your liking?” He leans in to bestow a chaste kiss to your throat, nuzzling the area right at the juncture between shoulder and neck. “I find it most fitting.”

“It’s…not the worst thing someone’s called me.”

He draws away, his eyes narrowed. “Not the worst? Others call you by delightful endearments?”

“Hmm? Jealous you’re not first?”

“Quite.” A scary smile curves his lips up. “So I’ll resolve to be the first by ridding myself of those inconsequential barnacles who think it wise to stick to you.”

“Wooow. How fearsome. But I’m just kidding. No one’s called me anything like that before…”

“So I’m the first?” he asks, proudly puffing his chest out.

“Yeah, yeah. Gloat all you want.”

“Gloat I shall. It’s tremendously gratifying to be your first.” Unlike his usual smiles, this one is pure and jubilant. There are no secrets concealed within, nor does he hide his teeth. “How fortunate I am to be here with you. To have met you. To bask in you…”

His eyes flutter shut as he grinds against you with more force, and you hiss out a soft moan when his slit, sticky with slick, slides against yours. Jade sighs, digging his claws into the sand to ground himself above you, and slips into a slow, gentle pace. You study his contorting features as he rubs himself against you, his brows furrowing and mouth dropping open in a tiny ‘o’ shape.

“You’re so sensitive,” you remark, toying with his quivering gills. Your fingers dip inwards to feel the spongy filaments, and he shudders through a low whine.

“Ah, yes… Mm, I suppose…I am.” His yellow eye is alight with lust when he cracks it open to peer at you. “I confess I’ve wanted this for a while.”

You shouldn’t push it any further than you already have, for you know the dangers that accompany the truth. You shouldn’t instill false hope in Jade when he’s already so hopeful, and you definitely shouldn’t play his game when you’re very aware of what waits for you at the end.

You shouldn’t, but you do.

“I can tell. I’ve only touched you here, but you’re already unraveling.”

“Then allow me to return the favor.”

You squeal when his claws drag along your gills, his touch careful despite his intentions. When he looks at you next, it’s as if he’s readying himself to devour you. He curls his fingers like an expert and you writhe beneath him, your lips parting in muted moans. Flustered, you attempt a glare, but it falls short.

“Now we’re a rightful match.”

You giggle between gasps. “Not fair… I don’t know mer anatomy like you do!”

“Would you like an experiential lesson?”

“Is that what we’re going to call this?”

“We could…” Jade moves based on vehement instinct, his hips colliding with yours. You throw your head back when his slit brushes against yours once more. It’s soft and squishy, entirely hairless. “If it were up to me, I’d prefer something far less technical.”

“Coitus isn’t doing it for you?”

He laughs. “I want to become a pair, if only for today, and make love to you.”

“‘Make love’ sounds a little…”

Jade searches your face for the underlying meaning in unspoken words. You try to hold eye contact, but your gaze wanders to the jellyfish above. His sigh draws your attention. “I understand. Making love would imply a romance that has not yet come to fruition.”

Even now, I’m trying to run away, you realize. What am I so afraid of?

Should you yield to his wishes? Should you be impetuous and play another dangerous game? You’ve agonized over similar questions before, weighing right and wrong on your internal scale, and the answer has always remained the same: You shouldn’t, no matter how tempting it may be. Because to play these games, you must be willing to tango with trouble.

I’m the worst at making good decisions and the best at making bad decisions. I really should work on flipping those…

“Just for today,” you concede with a grumble, “we’ll become a pair.”

Whether or not you come to regret it, playing pretend has always been your and Jade’s favorite pastime. That will never change.

“My, my. Aren’t you impressionable?” he jests with a coprophagous grin.

“Just shut up and kiss me, you stupid, asshole eel.”

And he does just that, capturing your lips in a tender kiss that’s all twisting tongues. You melt alongside him like sorbet in the sun, your tails braiding as one. There’s catharsis in crawling out of your head to focus on the present, where it’s just you and Jade in this silent sea of jellyfish. You push rationality and sorrow aside, favoring carnal delights instead, and entangle yourself in another tantalizing tryst. You kiss and bite in equal measure, digging your claws into his shoulders while he marks you, just as ferociously proprietorial.

Your lips are bitten puffy in the aftermath; you taste blood in your mouth, so you lick your lips clean of the substance. You bring him down to bite into his neck, hoping to match your bite with the ones he’s previously left on you, but he stops you.

“Dangerous,” he rasps, rolling his hips until something foreign sprouts between your bodies, the tip prodding at your own slit. You gasp and arch towards him. “Our blood is—mm—it’s not safe…for consumption.”

“Really?” you ask, not believing him for a second.

“Truly. Would I lie about that?”

“Coming from you, yes, you absolutely would.”

“I’m being truthful this time.” You roll your eyes at this time, and he elaborates: “Our blood is harmful to many mammals, especially humans. The tiniest amount could kill you. Even if your teeth may not be sharp enough to pierce my skin and you’re currently a mer, I wouldn’t want to risk it.

“Thought you would.” He raises an eyebrow, so you add, “You love risk.”

“Not if said risk involves endangering you. I care about you, (Name).”

You gaze sidelong at the sprawling seafloor. “R-Right…”

“If you were to ingest even a fraction of my blood, you’d suffer dreadful muscle cramps. I’m certain you value your life to some degree, yes? A bound heart would be most painful. Besides, I’m more fond of the risk with long-term consequences. Risks you neglect to see coming are intoxicating.”

“Yeah, that sounds more like you.” You giggle and run your fingers through his hair. He leans into your touch, rumbling with amusement. “So what are these ‘long-term consequences’ you love so much?”

In reply, he simply smiles.

“You look so creepy!”

You give his hair a punishing tug. That thing that had been poking you earlier—it wriggles free from the slit that once confined it. Jade lifts himself off of you so that you can view it. Thick and tapered, lined with an odd set of nubs, his cock is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. You react on impulse, curiously wrapping your webbed hand around it. It twitches at the contact, curling into your palm as if seeking a fleshy embrace. You startle, eyes blown wide.

Jade sucks in a sharp breath, his jaw clenched tight. “Well, what do you think?”

“It’s…different. A good type of different!” You stroke him and watch the unique appendage squirm. “So this is it… Interesting. I never would’ve imagined this is what it looks like. And it moves as if it’s got a mind of its own!”

“Haa… I’m pleased to have shocked you.”

“You always do. Now what other tricks do you have in store?”

“Plenty. That I can assure you.”

You wonder if you should fear the implications of the plenty he’s mentioned, but those worries are knocked out of your head when he lowers himself on top of you. His cock slides against your slit. Your heart pumps into overdrive as you anticipate it, your body burning with a new sort of itch. Jade traces two fingers along your lips before spreading them in a slow, deep thrust. You thrash and buck up towards his hand.

“Don’t drag this out… Please, Jade, I want it—”

“How badly?”

You groan. “I hate you. I’m not going to say it.”

“Then you won’t receive it.”

“Please? What happened to friendly favors?”

“That doesn’t apply here.” His smile is so serrated it could slice you. “So I’ll ask once more—how badly do you want it?”

You mumble a desultory reply.

“You’ll have to speak up, my dearest.”

“I want it more than anything.”

“More than what?”

You shoot him a scary scowl. “I’m not saying it.”

“I can wait.” For the sake of being himself, he adds a third finger. It’s not enough, and every digit rests still and shallow inside. You cry out in displeasure. “More than whom, (Name)?”

“You’re so mean! I won’t say it!”

“C’mon, Shrimpy. You can do it…” Your walls flutter around him, and he whistles and withdraws his fingers. “Attagirl. Now say it and I’ll give it to ya.”

I’m going to kill him.

You have more energy to resist, but you’re too impatient to play the long game. So you fall victim to the act just as you have in the past. “Fine! Okay! I want it more than Floyd! I want you more than him. I… I want you inside me. You, Jade. Not Floyd.” With a huff, you add, “There. I said it. Does that satisfy you?”

“Oh, very much so.”

He thumbs at your hips, adjusting himself only slightly so that the tip of his cock is kissing your slit. You pull his ear fins in admonishment.

“Asshole eel.”

“Gorgeous grouper. The prettiest lady I’ve ever seen, even in obscenity,” he murmurs, opening his mouth at you.

Comprehending the message, you gape right back.

Unlike your original body, your mer form doesn’t require much preparation. It’s an odd thing, but when your gummy walls swallow more and more of that peculiar cock as it’s eased in you begin to think you were designed for sex. This form possesses the impossible flexibility you lack as a human, your slit suited to take the monstrosity that is his member even without the foreplay. You steal glances between your joined bodies and Jade’s face as it shifts through the stages of pleasure. He almost collapses on top of you once he’s fully sheathed inside, his grip on you so tight that his claws cut into your skin. The sting is but a whisper amidst the sheer fullness settled within your stomach.

“You—” he bows his head, groaning lowly— “truly are a dream…”

You throw your head back, whining when he hits a certain spot bundled within. You’d marvel at his ability to reach those areas if you weren’t already so overwhelmed with ardor. His movements are sloppy while he pursues the proper pace, filling you like it’s second nature. All you can do is hold on to his shoulders and revel in the sensations of this new body. When his hips connect with yours, it’s as if puzzle pieces click together. As if the two of you were made for this moment and every other one that’s come before it, a perfect combination reaction. As if, rather than Floyd, it was Jade who was meant to fill the cavern in your heart all along.

A dream…

It’s not just your presence that’s comparable to a dream. It’s the situation and the scenery—the players and their motivations who make the dream come alive, even if it’s built on physical attraction and lies. You wouldn’t call yourself an actor, for an actor is able to separate themself from their role, and you wouldn’t view Jade in that way either. You can’t. Not when he’s above you, every bodily, emotional truth on full display.

You’re just yourself, as you’ve always been, and Jade is Jade. There aren’t any roles to act out here at the bottom of the sea. No need for either of you to pretend to be people you’re not. No need for the phony Floyd to play a parody of a love that will never come to florescence.

If you keep saying such heartfelt things, I’ll fall.

You pull Jade down into another hungry kiss, to which he reciprocates with the same ravenous energy. The both of you gasp into the other’s mouth, desperate to reach orgasmic bliss way up in the troposphere. It didn’t seem so in the beginning, but now, when he fucks into you like this is his last day on Earth, it feels right. You’ve never viewed Jade in rose tint. In fact, he was so insignificant in your life that you failed to comprehend his very existence. Your sight often narrowed to encapsulate Floyd, exiling everyone else to your peripheral, and he became less of Jade Leech—his own person with unique hobbies and talents—and more of Floyd’s twin—the body double who could pass as Floyd if you looked at him from the wrong angle.

But now that same Jade Leech, the one you’d thought so little of before, is making love to you beneath a blanket of jellyfish.

Winding yourself around him, you hold firm to keep him pinned on top of you. “Please don’t stop! Please keep go—oh—going,” you plead, eyes rolling back when he does just that.

“As you wish,” he manages through grunts. “I won’t stop until you’ve had your fill—until all you can think of is me.”

“If that’s the c-case—” you dig your fingers into his back— “you—haa—will have to try harder.”

“Oh? And yet you were so easily satisfied when I was Floyd,” he teases, grabbing your hips and driving himself home in deep, riotous strokes. You tamp down a bawdy moan. “Am I not enough?”

“Not that. Different… It’s different when you’re—oh!” Your weak glare is directed at the jellyfish rather than Jade when he nips at your shoulder. Bolts of pleasure shiver through you when he sinks his teeth in to suck a vicious bruise into your skin. “You’re such a cheat.”

And so annoying. Just like that time in the botanical garden.

“But you’re thinking of me, are you not?”

Your eyes snap back to his. “Not true.”

“I’m flattered.”

“W-Whatever! It’s just beginner’s luck.”

“I’d wager you’ve thought of me before.”

“Only when it’s inconvenient.” You huff, but even that sound is swiftly replaced with another filthy moan when he bites into the spot just above your breast. “Not my fault you look like Floyd.”

“I don’t think that’s the reason,” he mutters into your skin, hips stalling out into something slow and steady.

Now you’re vexed, your pleasure withering at the lack of stimulation. “What does it matter?”

“Because I love—”

You pull him away from your collarbone to silence him with a kiss. He blinks at you in the aftermath, mystified.

“I know.” Strangely, the admission doesn’t unsettle you as much as you thought it would. “Your body told me.”

Plenty of times, in fact.

“You needn’t respond,” he mumbles, cradling your cheek in a fond hold. Sadness swells in his eyes, and your mushy heart skips a beat. “I’m well aware of how deep-rooted your affections for Floyd are.”

They’re subject to change, you almost say, but it sticks in your throat. Can they change? Is that possible?

“I… I’ve always kinda known, Jade.”

“Have you now?”

“You weren’t very covert with it.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.” His lips ghost over yours in an almost-kiss. “I have no reason to hide my feelings. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

You run your fingers over his gills, engrossed in his glimmer. “Why? I thought… I mean, isn’t hiding stuff your thing?”

He heaves a shuddering sigh at your titillating touches. “Loving in silence is far too suffocating for a moray.”

“I see…”

And you do. You see it in the way he holds you, the way he kisses you, the way he speaks to you. The way he looks at you, the way he cooks for you, the way he acts around you. From the moment you shook hands on a crazy deal, you were wrapped up in love. It was never about food critique or entertainment; those were secondary to the truth. Jade agreed to help because he loves you. Jade stifled himself—snuffed all of the pieces that comprise Jade—in order to be Floyd because he loves you. Jade spent hours learning new recipes he thought you’d like because he loves you. Jade is an ever-present force in your life no matter how often you shove him to the side because he loves you.

Everything he does—everything he is right now—stems from the love he feels for you.

You’ve always loved others, your heart much too big for its own good, so it’s new to feel that same amount of love reflected tenfold. Tears spot your lash line. Jade coos at you in a musical mix of foreign syllables and sounds. Mermish, you suspect.

“‘You’re beautiful in saltwater,’” he translates. “It’s a double entendre we say here, meaning you’re beautiful when you’re under the sea and when you’re crying. It comes from the two interpretations of saltwater.”

As if you couldn’t cry harder, you do.

“S-Stupid,” you whisper through your sniffles. “How can I not think of you when you say something like that?”

Jade rests his forehead against yours, smiling sincerely. “These are my feelings. You needn’t accept them, but I would be happy if you could acknowledge them.”

“I do. I hear you.”

“Thank you.”

I should be thanking you, dummy.

He kisses you again, and unspoken words melt away into body language. Jade makes love to you like you might break at the slightest thrust, his hips molding to yours in a lazy, loving tempo. It’s comforting and calm to feel his weight on yours, a reminder that he is your beacon amidst all of this desolation and darkness. Insatiable, you and Jade wind around each other like snakes, moaning into each other’s mouths at every opportunity. You’ve never felt more weightless, so much so you’re floating. In this underwater paradise, time is nonexistent and your turbulent thoughts are carried away on the waves.

With his ministrations, the fiery ache in your belly sparks with new life. Your glutinous walls clamp down, which draws a pleasured hiss from Jade, and you breach that special, orgasmic surface with a cry. It’s soon swallowed in another greedy kiss, and all you can do is blindly pursue his tongue, your eyes squeezed shut. The throes of pleasure overtake you even as he continues to fuck you through it, unwilling to let up for even a moment.

It’s perfect—a puzzle finally pieced together.

Jade reaches his zenith shortly after you, his hips crashing against yours in one final thrust to fill you with cum. It’s unlike human sperm, thin and watery, but there’s so much of it. You consider asking for the biology lecture, but you’re so caught up in cloud nine that it’s a chore to work your heavy tongue.

Next time I’ll ask.

Jade—cool and collected Jade—flops on top of you afterwards, completely drained. His cock twitches limply inside of you, but he’s too exhausted to slide out. Not that you’re complaining. The connection is much appreciated.

“Sex is…not very messy in the sea,” you mumble, reaching to pat his head. He hums beneath your palm. “I guess it makes sense because these bodies don’t sweat.”

“Mm.”

“And there’s water everywhere, so fluids won’t last long either.”

“Mm.”

“Huh…”

“Mm.”

You run your fingers through his hair, watching in awe as the strands waver in the water. “Are you okay, Jade?”

“Yes… Yes, I’m fine now.” He lifts his head slightly to look at you. “My apologies. I…may have gotten lost in the moment.”

“It’s fine.” You issue him a hazy smile. “So this is what Jade’s like post-nut. Cute.”

“Please,” he murmurs, giggling deliriously. “I can assure you I’m normally much cooler. More coherent, too.”

“I never said this side of you wasn’t cool.”

“No, you did not.” His hand covers yours, squeezing faintly. “Thank you, truly, for everything.”

“Jade, I—” You hesitate, gather your words, and continue: “I want to be the one to thank you for everything. You didn’t have to put up with me for this long. You still shouldn’t have to, but you do. So… So thank you. I’m happy to have you in my life.”

“I am forever fortunate to have crossed paths with you.” His fingers curl around yours and he brings your hand up to his lips. “And I will continue to feel so for the rest of my life. There’s no need to offer your gratitude. Being here with you is more than enough.”

“Ooh, so romantic. Everything you say is so…princely. Are you secretly fairy-tale royalty?”

“Would you like to meet my father and find out?”

“Ugh. Forget I said anything. You’re so two-faced.” You tear your hand out of his clasp.

Jade chuckles. “It wouldn’t be a very long swim. My mother will adore you.”

“You’re shameless. We still have to collect the rest of the stuff for Azul.”

“He’ll live.”

“I’ll be indebted to him.”

“And then I’ll get to see you more often.” Jade pets the bloody bites littering your skin with overt adoration. “What wonderful luck, no?”

“You’re seriously the worst!”

“You don’t mean that.”

He’s right; you don’t.

You’re not perturbed by the signs, or lack thereof.

Firstly, your period is notorious for being late. Secondly, you haven’t felt a sliver of sickness ever since Jack offhandedly remarked that you smelled different. When asked to explicate, he told you in that gruff voice of his: “Sweeter. Not like your perfumes. This is a natural sweetness.”

You were wearing your favorite fragrance at the time, so when you sniffed your wrist and turned up with a noseful of Date Night you figured Jack must have mistaken the two. Surely a wolf beastman can have a faulty nose. It can’t be correct all the time, right? Even now, after listening to similar remarks from friends and acquaintances alike, you’re convinced a mistake has been made.

After all, nothing’s changed.

Today, however, it’s Azul who wrinkles his nose at you when you walk past him in the lounge. The busy atmosphere requires his presence, hence why he’s joining you on the floor. He’d be a welcome appearance, if not for his bizarre reaction.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he says with another snuffle.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t tell me I smell weird, too. That’s all I’ve been hearing lately.”

“Surely someone’s told you.” He folds his arms across his chest. “If not my distracted customers, I would hope one of your friends has clued you in by now.”

“I’m not distracting them on purpose, Azul. But, really, you ought to be happy. It’s bringing in more money. Lots of tips.” You gesture to yourself with your free hand; the other is occupied with a tray full of plates. “Aren’t I doing you a favor?”

He hums, fixing his eyes on the clustered crowd. Jade and Floyd make their rounds, as do the rest of the lounge staff. “And you’ve been feeling well? No illness or discomfort of any sort? Any unusual symptoms?”

“What does my smell have to do with any of that?”

Azul offers you a pleasant simper. “For the right price, I may be able to speculate.”

“Nice try. Like I’d fall for that.”

You pivot on your heel and head for your designated table, hips sashaying all the way. For a while you were paranoid that you smelled foul and that your perfumes couldn’t mask it, but when you asked Ace and Deuce they couldn’t pinpoint the issue either. It was then when Ace joked that your uniform seemed a size too tight, and your concerns evaporated all at once—as did Ace’s comment when you and Deuce chased him through the halls to wring an apology out of him.

Grim doesn’t agree with their assessment, but then you can never tell if he’s being serious when he grumbles about your smell or how you’re like a human furnace now. Winter is approaching; of course you’ve started to bundle up to accommodate for the chilly weather. But Grim insists this is different. Agree to disagree, you compromised and left it at that. Jade had been your last resort, who weighed in with a smile and some cryptic nonsense about ‘delightful consequences’—whatever that meant. Consulting him was a fruitless effort, as he proved to be about as much help as the rest of the school.

Azul doesn’t know what he’s talking about, you think as you serve the table of students. I’ve never felt better.

Just as you think that, though, your body chooses to ridicule you. When you step away from the table, fatigue washes over you and you stumble on unsteady legs. You brace yourself for the floor’s cruel kiss, but the impact from the collapse never comes. Strong arms wrap around you from behind, lifting you upright, and then you hear him. Your star.

“Whoa! Careful there, Shrimpy. Don’t go fallin’ on us.”

“F-Floyd!” You stare up at him from where you remain slumped in his grasp. The world spins and presents you with three Floyds. You blink them away until there’s one, and by the Great Seven is he handsome in his uniform. “Thanks for catching me…”

“Don’t mention it.” He helps you to your feet, patting you down for extra measure. “All good?”

“Yeah… Yeah, totally. Sorry. I don’t know what happened. One minute I was fine, and the next I was so exhausted I couldn’t walk straight.”

“You get enough sleep?”

“I could do better, but I had to pull an all-nighter. Maybe I’m not eating enough? But then Ace said my uniform looked tight… Do you think I’m coming down with something? But I haven’t felt sick either. Just hungry. Seriously… What’s going on with my body?”

Floyd looks through you rather than at you, his face scrunched in contemplation. He leans closer, sniffs you once, and then pinches you through your shirt. You flinch.

“H-Hey! What was that for?”

His mouth spreads in an obnoxiously smug grin—the sort that tells you he’s worked out the solution to a mystery you’ve yet to recognize. “Just testin’ something. You’re smellin’ more like Jade these days. Mama’ll be happy knowin’ he’s got himself a li’l lady friend.”

You bristle, warming under his knowing gaze. Of course Jade’s scent is fresh on your clothes. Prior to your shift, the two of you rendezvoused for a quick round of kissing and bickering over the title for your mutualistic relations. It’s not love. It’s convenience. You fool yourself with this lie because part of you is still so hung up on Floyd. Though your affections have dimmed considerably since that day in the Coral Sea, you still catch yourself fantasizing about him and the future you could share. Although, after everything that’s happened with Jade, you’re not sure where your heart lies.

Jade is not the other half to your pair, but neither is Floyd.

But Jade is always around and he likes you; Floyd does not. And sometimes you think Jade will make it official—that he’ll confess again and you’ll echo the sentiment this time because you have nothing to lose and you’re always waltzing on the border between love and lust. You await that day with hopeful horror.

Everything has changed even if it doesn’t feel like it.

“I am not his lady friend. Not like that.”

“Sure you aren’t. And I’m not a moray.”

“I’m serious!”

“Course you are. I just don’t believe ya.”

“You—” Scowling, you move to swat at him, but the noisy growl of your stomach stops you in your tracks. “Y-You didn’t hear that!”

“Guess it’s better bein’ hungry than sick. Surprised you can even keep anything down.”

“What are you talking about? That makes no sense.”

Floyd shrugs. “Nothin’. Just sayin’ it’s damn good luck is all. These sorta things make humans suuuper sick.”

“Okay… Cool. Thanks for the input?”

Floyd snatches your fedora, indicating he’s ready for a chase and that this conversation has ended. “Hee-hee. You’ll figure it out soon.”

“Wha—hey! Get back here! I wanna know right now!”

Like a brainwashed fool, you pursue because he’s still your star—the eel you’ve idolized ever since you met him. Those feelings are impossible to squash, but it doesn’t matter. Floyd isn’t bothered, and perhaps that’s for the best. His nonchalance allows the two of you to remain friends even in the wake of your confession.

Nothing has changed between you and him.

Looking on with mounting interest, Azul pulls a very proud-looking Jade aside. “You seem pleased.”

“As a peach.”

“Am I right to assume you have a contingency plan written up?”

“And for what contingency must I plan?”

Azul scoffs at his deliberate pussyfooting. “You tell me. Your intentions evade me at present.”

“Is that so? And I thought I made them perfectly clear all those months ago.”

“You did, yes, but I fail to understand how any of this benefits you if she’s still so enamored with Floyd. Do you intend to make a marriage out of this noncommittal not-romance?”

“Azul, you jest. I’m not someone who plays for second place or consolation prizes. Of course I’ll marry (Name). She won’t have a choice.”

“You’re not even romantically involved.”

“Not by human standards.”

“No, I suppose not.” Azul watches as you, oblivious and secretly enceinte, follow Floyd to the kitchen to retrieve another set of finished orders. “A child is a commitment in more ways than one.”

“As are twins.”

He doesn’t shudder at the sight of Jade’s razored smirk, but he does raise an inquiring brow. “What makes you think that?”

“Moray eel intuition.”

“Hah. I see. (Name) won’t be very thrilled.”

“Perhaps not. But we’ll be here to help, won’t we?”

The two exchange a devious glance. Azul snickers. “Oh, but of course. I am nothing if not a compassionate, benevolent soul.”

“Your generosity parallels that of the great Sea Witch,” Jade agrees, a hand held over his heart.

“It was reckless, but I must admit I’m impressed.”

“Why, thank you. I do so enjoy playing dangerous games. The risks are profoundly metamorphic, but the rewards make it worth my while.” His two-toned eyes track your figure as you flit about the lounge with Floyd. “I’ll do whatever it takes. If I must play Floyd for the day, so be it. If I must swallow her in my shadow so that no one else dares to look for her light, so be it. These are the lengths I’m willing to go to for her. She is my everything. My dearest. My moon.” Jade glances at Azul, a manic grin darkening his features. “And rather than confine myself to the role of a single star seeking her approval, I’ll become her universe. Then there will be no need to compete with other stars, for I will be the only one she’ll ever see in this starless solar system.”

“What a frightening face… You and (Name) really are a match made in madness.”

“Aren’t we just?”

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