Chapter 10

Alba did not actually expectEridanys, the merrow, to still be in the loft overhead when he returned hours later for something to eat before retiring to the lighthouse. He especially did not expect to find him still fast asleep where he originally reclined.

He even paused at the top of the stairs, waiting to see the mer-man twitch, for his eyes to flicker open before sitting up and flipping his hair and accusing Alba of being so na?ve to think he would let his guard down so quickly—but he didn't. The merrow—the man—remained motionless where he rested, save for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest with each breath.

When Alba was sure Eridanys truly was asleep, he risked a closer look. Once again both impressed and off-put by exactly how beautiful he was; hair shiny and silvery, skin as smooth as an aristocrat's, though Alba could pick out the tiniest flickers of scales just beneath the surface. Especially over his cheeks, his jawline, even down to his collarbones and strong shoulders.

God—strong shoulders. Taut muscles over his chest, trailing down to additional ripples in his stomach. Alba's eyes traveled further, until to help himself—before forcing his eyes forward again. At ease, at attention, as if called by his captain. He could not imagine a worse fate than the merrow waking to find the lonely wickie looming over him with eyes wandering a little too far.

He almost couldn't believe how easily the man rested, breathing deep and steady, eyelashes twitching like he dreamed. Eridanys was either so sure of himself that he felt completely safe closing his eyes and drifting off right there, naked, defenseless, in the home of someone whom he had no reason to trust—or, Alba realized as he picked out faint dark circles beneath the man's eyes, perhaps he was simply as exhausted as Alba was. He'd mentioned traps set around the harbor, after all. He'd mentioned looking for his missing kin, which Alba knew from his own experience to be draining. Physically, emotionally, mentally.

Alba pressed his lips together, exhaling a puff of breath to knock a clump of hair from his eyes. How ironic, for someone of the land and someone of the sea to meet in that same miserable place. Searching for those who were meant to be there waiting. Missing. Not a trace to be found. As if Moon Harbor had swallowed every one of them whole.

Leaving Eridanys to rest, a part of him sure the man would be long gone by the time the sun rose, Alba made his way back out of the house with a lantern in hand and a book tucked under his opposite arm.

He paused on the edge of the rocks to light a cigarette before cordoning himself off in the tower, breathing in a long drag of tobacco and sighing it back out into the evening sky. A sky as dark and cloudy as the morning and afternoon that came before it. It might really be all the way until the full moon again that he would get a chance to see the stars, to see the sun in the sky. God, what a miserable place.

As if to argue, the town's distant musical pipes spoke up, singing all the way out to where he stood on the rocks. The water lapped rougher against the stone, splattering the toes of his shoes enough that he frowned and took a step back.

He waited for the gust of wind to reach the lighthouse like it always did—but the smoke from his cigarette remained vertical toward the sky. Not a breath to disturb it. Alba glanced back toward the town, to the yellow-orange lights of their streets illuminated as the sun set. Alba inhaled another drag. The singing from the dark shore continued.

The smoke from his cigarette never moved.

Eridanys was stillasleep in Alba's bed when Alba returned the following morning, dripping water on the floor from the rain that'd soaked him through on his way back.

It continued heavily against the roof as he climbed the stairs to the upper loft, shivering and eager to strip the cold shirt and pants off so he could crawl into whatever empty blankets he could find. Eridanys had promised to keep the ‘drowned souls' from bothering him so long as they were in agreement, and while Alba wasn't sure he believed it, he was just exhausted enough to try.

Unbuttoning his shirt, he couldn't help but let his eyes linger on Eridanys again, who hadn't moved an inch. Alba cleared his throat, kicked his boots off with excessive noise, but Eridanys still didn't stir.

For a moment, he genuinely thought the merrow might be dead, finally reaching out to touch his shoulder. Then to shake him a little more aggressively, only to yelp when a pale hand suddenly lashed out and grabbed his wrist, nearly breaking it in half.

"Easy!" Alba snapped, yanking his hand away as the man blinked away his disorientation. "You haven't moved in some twelve hours, you know. Do you need to be watered? Like a beached whale?"

Eridanys narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. Moving his feet over the side of the bed, he stood, stretching tall, elongating his chest and stomach, nearly sending Alba reeling when he caught himself staring.

"Christ—if you're gonna be stayin' in the house with me, you need to put some clothes on."

"Where have you been?"

"Tendin' the lantern. Like I already told you."

"And what will you do now?"

"Now? Now, I'm goin' to sleep." Alba finally pulled off his wet shirt, then decided if there was no qualm around nudity with the merrow, then neither was there for him, kicking off his pants and damp undergarments while he was at it.

He crawled into his own bed finally left empty, blankets chilled and slightly damp from the creature curled up beneath them prior. Unable to help the quiet sigh of relief through his nose to just be off his aching leg.

"Until when?"

"Afternoon," Alba exhaled, closing his eyes.

"What should I do until then?"

Alba glared over his shoulder. He'd left Eridanys to sleep like a corpse for practically an entire day and night, not a single question or comment from his mouth the entire time.

"Anythin' you like," he answered flatly. "Except eating my food and bothering the lantern. Oh—and killing me, in case you get bored."

"I wouldn't wait for your permission to kill you."

"Christ,"Alba muttered, returning his head to the pillow. Tired enough to not actually care if Eridanys decided to kill him. So long as he was deep enough asleep to not feel it, he wouldn't even notice. There would be nothing to grieve.

Before drifting off, Alba was aware of Eridanys hovering at his back. Just within reach of the bed, lingering for another few minutes before finally making his way down the stairs. Down the stairs, and out the door.

Alba listened to see if he could hear the sound of splashing, but he was already being taken by the tide of his own exhaustion to notice. Sinking into the smell of sea salt and rain and rich clay on his pillow.

It wasthe deepest Alba slept in a long time; deep enough that when his eyes finally opened again, he thought he was back in Welkin. He always slept so deeply, peacefully, on those rare single nights back home, knowing he was safe. Deep enough to help him survive constant restlessness until the next time came to treat him. Whenever that would be.

He never should have slept so soundly with a bloodthirsty mer-creature wandering around in the house, on the rock, wherever Eridanys went. A part of him even briefly thought it all to be a dream, but breathing in deep lungfuls of the unique scent on his pillow, his sheets, reassured him otherwise.

With every reminder, Alba ruminated a little more on why the merrow was so eager to come to such a swift agreement. Hardly any debate, hardly any real argument. Then to insist he remain in the house even while Alba worked; to even resist killing Alba while he slept, despite everything else saying he never should have had eyes to open again.

It had to be desperation. Alba knew. He knew how such a thing looked on a face, even one as inhumanly handsome as Eridanys'. Desperation that guaranteed Alba's safety, his ability to sleep soundly even with a demon of the sea wandering in and out of the shadows. Nothing, no one so desperate would kill the only thing they thought could save them.

Crawling from the warm bed with a groan, Alba pulled on his spare clothes. He carried the still rain-damp shirt and pants downstairs to drape over the steel bathtub to dry. He cut a piece of stiff bread, spread it with butter, and snagged a single piece of bacon from the cold box to fry in lard on the stove.

He made a pot of coffee—with a dribble of whiskey, to settle his nerves—all the while checking over his shoulder to see if the mer-man would come back through the door demanding something to eat for himself. Alba didn't know how he would answer, though it would probably sound something like "go fetch your own food from the sea, like a dog."

He stood over the sink to eat, watching rain speckle the glass, ears buzzing as wind made the distant flutes of Moon Harbor hum. Like the night before, nothing nearly as notable came from the ones on his own rock, making a mental note to check them for plugs. Maybe a seabird nested over them, maybe they were clogged with decades of brine to be chipped away. Maybe the storm had torn them off and thrown them into the sea.

A sweep of wind made something flicker from the side of the window, and Alba leaned forward to see for himself. His breath caught, spotting Eridanys standing naked on the edge of the rocks, gazing out over the water. His long white hair drifted behind him, swaying gently when it wasn't being whipped by the salty wind like a bride's veil; like something out of a sailor's warning. To see the shadowed cuts of muscle down his back so distinctly, Alba"s face burned.

Just like it always had when his gaze lingered on some handsome crewmate drawing in pots alongside him on a boat, arms straining and jaw clenched in focus. Or when one would come up from behind and grab at a rope Alba clung to, arms encircling him, thinking nothing of it while Alba's entire body lit up like a lantern. Watching handsome mouths move when they chatted away in a bar, how lips parted over the rims of glass mugs. How tongues curled around fishbone while repairing nets on deck, holding the needles in their mouths while strong hands tightened knots over their laps.

Alba closed his eyes, shoving the rest of the bread into his mouth and forcing every thought out of his mind.

Christ—he really should find that man on the rocks some goddamned clothes.

Though—perhaps to test his own strength of will, to prove to himself he could keep on just fine not distracted by the mer-man's nudity—Alba decided to check the pipes on the house as his first chore of the day.

He braided his hair over one shoulder, pulled on his boots, then his jacket. Double-checking for the box of cigarettes in the pocket, he stepped out into the light rain, groaning internally when the air was more frigid than he anticipated. Lighting a cigarette helped, inhaling deep lungfuls before leaning against his cane with a sigh. The rain always brought throbbing to his hip, but the good night's rest helped ease the ache some. Helpful, especially that morning, with the ground as slick as it was.

He made his way around the house, pretending like he never noticed Eridanys perched on the rocks, scowling when he found the house's flutes and realized they weren't any more plugged up than the first time he heard them sing. They even weakly hummed as he approached, wind not strong enough to summon anything more profound. As if avoiding him, the lighthouse rocks, taking preference with the town and her music instead.

Despite his best intentions to ignore Eridanys entirely, Alba couldn't help but wonder if the man himself didn't know where the sound came from. Especially with how he stared out toward the foggy ocean rather than the town where Alba knew better. Watching him for another moment, Alba inhaled another drag, before sighing the smoke out of his nose and limping over.

"It's notched pipes on the buildings in town," he said, a sudden gust of wind grabbing his coat and flaring it out behind him. Eridanys barely glanced his way, before turning back toward the water. Alba insisted: "The wind makes them sound like singing."

"Why?"

"What do you mean ‘why'?" he answered, holding the next inhale of smoke in his lungs before letting it drizzle from the corner of his mouth. He hadn't exactly questioned it any more than that initial thought when he first arrived. Just seeming like a strange quirk of the town, nothing more. "Maybe there's no reason. It's just a pretty sound, you think?"

"You must not be a sailor after all, if you think such things are pretty." Eridanys said it with a wry smile, but still never looked Alba's way.

"Aren't they?" Alba grumbled. "I assume you're talkin' about songs of the sea, despite me never mentionin' them." He sucked on the cigarette in agitation. "I can be a sailor and still say the singin' of the sea is pretty. That's the point of a siren's song, isn't it? To be pretty. A merrow of all creatures should know that."

"A siren's song isn't supposed to sound like anything," the merrow argued with surprising conviction. "Sailors who hear it are meant to feel it, not hear any part enough to decide if it's pretty. That's what makes it so tempting."

"Sure, yeah. Same thing."

Eridanys looked at Alba like he thought he was something made just to be insufferable. Alba raised an eyebrow back, inhaling another drag and shrugging.

"I've never felt anything with a siren's song. Only ever heard it, far enough away to not do anythin' to me. And it was always just pretty. Maybe I just wasn't ever their type, hm?" He added sarcastically, but Eridanys' nose wrinkled in irritation.

"Their type of what?" he asked, argumentative as ever.

Alba shrugged again, not eager to get into the details of it with someone so keen on being contrarian. Knowing sirens with big breasts and pretty faces always drew the attention of men with the most neglected peckers. And while Alba was always equally neglected as the rest of them—it wasn't breasts he was interested in. He wasn't quite sure how to explain that to the mer-man next to him, though Eridanys seemed to come close to realizing on his own when he said: "You reacted to my song once. I saw it."

Alba stiffened. It was his turn to stare out at the sea, pretending to be lost in thought. Eridanys was right, but Alba wasn't going to let the mortification show on his face.

"Is that what that was?" He finally mumbled, flicking ashes over the edge. "I don't remember."

Eridanys scoffed again, ego bruised, having no idea the sort of thoughts Alba had been fighting since he arrived the night before. Sleeping in Alba's bed and strutting around with his cock and ass and every other perfectly sculpted part of him on full display for someone as starved as Alba to see. Even the dream before that, and the constant fondling himself while resisting the song singing out to him in the days leading up to it—vowing then and there to never utter such embarrassing truths out loud.

"Can you hear it while in your lighthouse?" Eridanys asked next. "The sounds from the town."

"No, not really," Alba answered, more of a rasp than a full sentence.

"Then I'll join you up there."

Alba choked on an inhale, coughing up smoke that burned his throat. "Excuse me? That's not somethin' you?—"

"It'll drive me mad otherwise," Eridanys said matter-of-factly, turning away. Toward the tower, where he went and stood to wait for Alba to join him. Alba could only wonder—how something as harmless as whistling pipes could drive him mad.