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In the centre of his bed, housed in a massive clamshell, Harry wakes with a stretch and a yawn. Around him are verdant water reeds and lush pink anemone. Outside his window, the deep blue ocean with bright fish zipping by. And through his door, the subtle commotion of the palace rising. He wakes smiling. And eager to get the day over with so he can see Louis.

He swims to his robe, draws it on, humming a tune as he fixes his hair into a knot at the top of his head, and leaves with an extra swish in his swim.

When he reaches the dining room, heads bow. August lingers closest to Harry’s chair and bows as well. Harry’s father obviously does not. King Asmund bows to no one. Also at the table are Harry’s siblings, all of them young, and his father’s second wives, Elma and Uma.

“Harald,” his father says.

“Father,” Harry says, taking his seat. He glances fleetingly at August, decides that not even August could ruin his mood, and assesses his breakfast. It’s some sort of gelatinous sea creature with a side of root vegetables. He’d love a scone with jam. He misses coffee. And whatever Louis might’ve cooked him this morning if he was able to spent the night.

“Tell us,” Asmund says. “How was your Sapiox?”

“Same as usual,” Harry says with a smile.

“No worrying progressions from the human race?”

Harry’s brows crease before he remembers his people’s beliefs about Sapiox and why it exists at all. Theoretically, it’s a gift from the gods to allow members of their own race to infiltrate another. A way of keeping tabs on their enemies. Collecting intel and so on and so forth.

It’s definitely not for the purposes of having steamy, desperate sex in cars. Or near-kisses in botanical gardens. Or falling in love.

Not that Harry is in love. But then, how would he know?

“No progressions from what I could see,” Harry says.

His father barks a laugh. “Hardly a surprise there,” he says. “In more good news, the camera arrived last night.”

Once again, Harry is stumped. “Oh, great,” he says without a clue what that’s supposed to mean.

August ducks his head, speaking low. “You’re very excited to take photos to send to the kingdom, aren’t you, your highness? And to your betrotheds, of course.”

Harry nearly puts a dent in his fork. He loosens his grip. “We’re taking pictures today, then?” he asks his father with a smile plastered on his face.

“Why delay?” his father says excitedly. “When we finally have a camera that works this far below! Once everything’s set up, I’ll take pictures first, of course. Then your mothers.”

Harry sends a smile to each of the queens, but he hates when his father calls them that.

“Then you,” the king concludes. “Each of your brothers and sisters. A few of us all together. A few of just you and the children.”

Harry has a bite of his meal and forces himself to chew. “Sounds like a full day.”

“And it’ll be well spent,” his father says.

“Your highness,” August says quietly. “You didn’t have any other plans, did you? If so, may I ask that you keep me apprised of your plans in the future so I can ensure you aren’t double-booked?”

Harry turns and glares at him. “I have no other plans. Love a photo shoot.”

Sometimes August is more shark than siren. But that goes for the lot of them. Harry swears his teeth are sharper now than they were the last time he saw him.

“Happy to hear it,” August says.

He keeps a close eye on Harry the rest of the morning. He doesn’t leave his side as a few palace maids make him presentable. They brush and style his hair, scrub and polish his scales, clip his cuticles, and all the while, August stands by, pretending he’s simply there to be of help to Harry.

When they’re finished and Harry’s crown is neatly nestled on his head, Harry gives them all a smile. “Thank you,” he says, patting the hand of one of the maids. “I’d like to be alone until it’s my turn for pictures.”

Without complaint, they bow and swim out of his room one after the other.

Harry looks at August. “Did you hear me?”

“Are you sure there’s nothing else you need?”

“I’m very sure. Thanks.”

August stalls a second longer, then inclines his head, and leaves. Immediately, Harry goes to the door and locks it. For good measure, he drags a chaise in front of the door as well. Then he pulls on his robe again and goes to the corner of his room. He slides his bookcase slightly to the right, exposing a patched hole in the wood wall. Harry removed all but one of the nails attaching the patch of wood to the hole. He uses a fork to pull the nail free, pushes the barrier slightly aside and swims into the open ocean. He half-expects August to be there waiting on the exterior. He can hear and smell guards in the distance, but the coast is clear now. Harry is also faster than most of his kind and he’s used to blending in when he’s on land.

He swims away from the palace quickly, deeper into the blue, on and on, and then up to the spot where Louis agreed to meet him. He finds a large rock formation where the water shallows and rests his arms atop it. He waits, scanning the shoreline, listening. When he hears the rumble of a truck’s engine, he pushes himself higher and sees Louis before Louis sees him.

Louis tosses his baseball cap back into the car after stepping out. He runs his hands through his hair several times, glancing at himself in his car’s side view mirror, and seems to decide he looks alright. But he looks more than alright and he always does. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and his lifeguard shorts. He starts toward the water and Harry can’t wait any longer.

“Hi,” he blurts.

Louis startles slightly, but then he’s all smiles. He hurries into the water, up onto the rock where Harry rests his arms, and kneels in front of him. “Was a little worried I dreamt you up.”

“So was I,” Harry says, admiring Louis from head to toe. He can’t believe he gets to do so twice in two days. He can’t believe he only has a matter of minutes. “I can’t stay for long… Something came up.”

“Oh,” Louis says. He lowers his gaze. “Suppose I should be used to you darting off.”

“This is different,” Harry says. “Those times before, I had to hurry back to the water. Something’s actually come up this time.”

Louis waits. And when Harry doesn’t say anything further, he urges, “Like?”

Harry hesitates. “It’s hard to explain,” he says. “Mermaid things.”

“Right.”

“Could we meet tomorrow?” Harry asks. “Please.”

“I’ve got double shifts tomorrow. I switched with someone so I could be here.” Louis shrugs. “It’s alright, though.”

Harry is ruining this already. “I’m sorry—”

“You apologise a lot,” Louis says. He reaches out, pinching Harry’s chin. “It’s alright . How about Saturday morning?”

“Okay,” Harry says eagerly. “I’ll be here.”

Louis takes a step back. “So will I.” 

Harry wants to ask for a kiss, but if Louis wanted to kiss him, he wouldn’t have to. So, it’s quite likely Louis just doesn't want to kiss him. “See you then,” Harry says, and at least he gets a smile from Louis before he dives beneath the water with a slightly heavy and anxious heart.

♆

Harry doesn’t totally expect him to show up Saturday morning. There’s an incessant part of him so convinced he won’t. This is how it ends. Because it’s guaranteed to end. Whether it be now. Or next week. Or very likely, at the end of the season.

But now it is. Since there’s still no sign of Louis.

Harry hears an engine, but the sound is different from Louis’ car. He spots a boat approaching and dives quickly. He peers up through the crystal clear water overhead, observing the boat when it grows closer. Then it just stalls there.

“Harry?” he thinks he hears, though the sound is slightly distorted.

Harry pokes his head up through the water.

“Did I scare you?” Louis asks when he spots him, standing in a medium-sized motorboat.

“A little,” Harry says. He looks along the length of the boat. “Are you alone?”

“Of course,” Louis says, visibly perturbed by the question.

“Why are you on a boat?” Harry asks. “Are you not staying?”

“There’s somewhere I want to show you. It’s a little ways off and I thought it’d be easier for you to follow me if I’m also in the water.”

“Sure,” Harry says. “I’m right behind you.”

And then he dives beneath the water. It’s safer to swim below the surface than on it. He follows at a distance for a while and then sees the boat come to a stop. He returns to the surface to see Louis stepping out onto a rock bordering a small sea cave. The way into the cave isn’t large enough to steer the boat through, which works in their favour as it’ll hopefully deter tourists.

Harry swims into the cave and to the pool of aquamarine water at the centre. He peers up at the jagged ceiling and an opening where sunlight shoots down and illuminates a patch of rocks below. He swims closer to where Louis has taken a seat on the smooth stone bordering one side of the pool. He’s just about to say how beautiful it all is when Louis asks, “Do you trust me?” 

His tone is direct and his posture tense, so Harry tenses too. Not for the first time.

“‘Cause I don’t think this’ll work if you don’t,” Louis says. “The odds are already stacked pretty high.”

“I do trust you,” Harry says quickly.

“It felt a little like you didn’t just now.”

“Well, that’s not true,” Harry says. He runs his hands through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “This is all just occasionally overwhelming sometimes. It’s a lot to juggle. I’m trying to keep us both safe. And secret. Even talking to you like this is forbidden.”

“I’m aware of the risks too,” Louis says. “I also want to keep us safe.”

“But you don’t even know all the risks. You don’t know the circumstances.”

“Then tell me,” Louis says. “What is it you think I don’t know?”

His voice oozes with sarcasm like nothing could possibly surprise him at this point and Harry can’t resist proving him wrong.

“I’m a prince,” Harry says.

Louis blinks at him. He gives himself a second. “Fuck’s sake,” he says under his breath.

“That’s why I can do what I do. Only royals have the ability. There aren’t any other mermaids out dating humans because currently, there’s no one else like me. There’s no one else walking on land every now and then. So I don’t know what the consequences would be for the average mermaid. But people expect me to set an example. And failing to would mean banishment. Dethronement. If they don’t kill me first. So, if I show up and I seem tense or flighty or scared, Louis, it’s because I am.”

Louis drags his hands down his face. “Alright, yeah,” he says. “That’s worse than I thought.”

Harry pushes himself out of the water and sits beside Louis.

“Didn’t think you could do that,” Louis says.

“What? Sit?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Louis says.

Harry huffs a laugh. “We’ve got tables and chairs at home. Beds, too.”

“In a palace or…?”

“Yes.”

Louis unfolds his legs and dunks them in the water, swagging them back and forth. Harry does the same with his tail. Their shoulders brush slightly, but it’s hardly an ideal degree of contact.

“You didn’t seem as surprised when you first saw me as I expected,” Harry says. “I wasn’t sure whether to believe it but I overheard you on the boardwalk one day, talking to that girl with the splinter. You said you were saved by a mermaid when you were a boy. And you hummed this tune…”

Louis exhales a small laugh. “I don’t know whether to believe that either, to be honest. Was a long time ago. My dad definitely didn’t believe me.”

“I do believe you,” Harry says. “I know it happened because the mermaid who saved you was named Astrid. She was my mother. And I know it was her because of the tune. It was my lullaby.”

Louis just looks at him in shock. “You said she left you.”

“That’s how my dad and everyone else talks about it. But it’s not true. She was banished. Because she was like me and she met a human and fell in love with him. With being with him and being human. I don’t know if she would’ve left me if she had the choice. But she didn’t.”

“That’s awful,” Louis says quietly. “Where is she now?”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t know if she lives nearby. But she leaves me gifts on my birthday, and sometimes letters just because,” he admits. “Ever since I started transforming, I find them in the cave where I keep my things.”

“Do you miss her?”

Harry thinks about it. He feels like he hardly knows his mum. Only the idea of her he has in his head. But he vaguely remembers how she made him feel. Safe, always. Loved. “All the time,” Harry says.

Louis is quiet for a while afterwards and Harry allows him the quiet to process everything he’s said. When Louis speaks, he noticeably doesn’t look at him. “I don’t want to be the reason you lose more of your family,” he says. “Or your life, obviously. So, I get it. And it’s alright.”

“Okay,” Harry says, slowly. “I’m not sure I know what you’re saying.”

“You’re scared and you have every reason to be. I don’t want it to be that way when you’re with me. I don’t like making anyone’s life more difficult than it needs to be. Especially not someone I care about,” Louis says. He starts to stand and Harry grabs him by his t-shirt and holds on tight. “Harry.”

“Why are you talking like I won’t see you again?”

“Maybe that’s best.”

“ No . That’s not why I told you. I am scared, but I’m also scared of not seeing you,” Harry says. “I’m sorry for how I acted when you showed up on the boat. Really. And I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologising to me,” Louis says, touching his face. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Then stop trying to leave.”

Louis sighs heavily. “Alright,” he says, sinking his legs into the water once more.

Harry releases his shirt, setting his hands in his lap. “I feel like I’m making a mess of this already. I’m complicating things even though how I feel isn’t complicated at all. I want to spend time with you.”

“Let’s keep it simple, then,” Louis says again. “I’m assuming you’ve never had a summer fling before. Like…someone you date until the season’s over? A winter fling, maybe?”

“Not exactly,” Harry says. “Have you?”

“Sure, yeah. Sort of standard growing up. You meet someone on holiday with your family or working a summer job. It’s easier sometimes when you know it won’t last.”

Harry peers at the small space between them as he listens. Because he doesn’t exactly want to look Louis in the eyes. That small space is likely to become an ocean when the summer is over. A whole continent between them. The whole world. That’s what Louis is saying.

“I don’t feel that way with you,” Louis says. “To be clear.”

And Harry lifts his head.

“I don’t like to think this is just for a season,” Louis says. “But— Perhaps let’s treat it that way for now. I think that’s how it’ll work best. If we agree not to think or worry about what happens months from now. We just focus on the time that’s guaranteed.”

“That sounds nice,” Harry says. It sounds like all he could ask for.

“What do you think of this place, then?” Louis asks, leaning back on his palms.

“It’s a good find,” Harry says. “Very romantic.”

“Oh, yeah?” Louis smiles and runs his thumb over Harry’s dimple, idly. “You know, your skin is sort of shimmery.” He curls a lock of Harry’s hair around his finger. “Your curls too.”

“When I’m in this form,” Harry says.

“So, you’re stunning in both forms and there’s not some siren throwing themselves at you on a daily basis?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Well, there’s August. My secretary.”

“I hate him already,” Louis says.

Harry snickers. “I’m not a fan either. He’s fancied me for years, but he’s also a spy. I’ve dated others here and there, but it never means anything. Not like this.”

It’s not that Louis treats him like he’s ordinary because he definitely doesn’t. Whenever he looks at Harry, Harry feels like the most beautiful creature in the world. But Louis’ adoration isn’t anything like the shallow, subservience of sirens he dated in the past. Louis is direct and honest and observant. Harry feels singular and substantial in his view. He feels human.

“Can I kiss you now?” Louis asks.

“Please,” Harry says.

♆

It gets better after that. After what can loosely be considered their first disagreement. 

Deciding not to worry about what this all means and what the future holds helps exponentially. It allows Harry to compartmentalise his two worlds. He refuses to dissect how one might influence the other. When he’s down below, he’s a prince. And when he’s with Louis, well— he’s Louis’.

The cave is also a godsend. Days pass by and he spends most evenings holed away there with him. Louis has so many questions and Harry delights in answering most. 

“Do you have soup down there?”

“Yes,” Harry says, suppressing a laugh.

“How does that work? In the water?”

“The way the water works here and the way it works within the kingdom are different. There’s no drag, for example. That’s—”

“The force that opposes motion when moving through a fluid. Learned that in boating school,” Louis says. “Also, very good entertainment.”

Harry’s brows wrinkle.

“Someday, I’ll take you to something called a drag show and you’ll see what I mean,” Louis says. He makes references like that all the time to things they’ll do when Harry is on land. But there’s only one Sapiox left before the season is officially over and they can’t squeeze everything into one day before sunset. Meaning he must assume they’ll have several Sapioxes together. Harry likes that thought of that, but he also never lets himself think about it too long.

“What about gravity?” Louis asks.

“That’s there too, but the buoyancy is the same. For us, swimming in the kingdom is almost like flying. The gravity affects everything else. Like the soup.”

“Sounds incredible,” Louis says. “The flying bit. I’ll reserve judgement about the soup.”

Harry shrugs. “The soup is subpar. And I prefer walking on land.”

“Do you?” Louis asks. “Are you sure that’s not just ‘cause you only get to do it once a month?”

“Maybe,” Harry says. “But I also prefer walking…with you.”

Louis’ smile grows. “Alright, darling, alright. Fair enough.”

♆

“I got you something,” Louis says as soon as he shows up the following evening.

“But you just got me this,” Harry says, fingers brushing the beaded pearl necklace Louis gifted him two days prior. Luckily no one at home has questioned him about it. The probable explanation is that Harry purchased it for himself during a sapiox. And anyway, once he puts the necklace on, he finds it impossible to take it off. He refuses.

“I like to spoil,” Louis says. He removes a phone from his rucksack. “It’s completely waterproof. But you might not get any service if you swim too far down with it. Also I know you’ve got your iPod, but I loaded a playlist or two on there. And I’m still looking into waterproof headphones but I figure for now you can just listen out loud or—”

Harry sets his hands on the rock on either side of Louis’ thighs and pushes himself out of the water. He kisses him and feels Louis’ hands immediately settle on his waist and the slight curve of his bottom. It’s nice to be touched at all, but Harry can’t stop thinking about how it must feel for Louis. The slightly coarse texture of his scales as opposed to the smooth skin a week prior. Surely, he’s put off by it. Harry’s tail might be appealing to the eye — iridescent turquoise and violet — but so is a textured painting or even a grotesque sculpture. Obviously it doesn’t turn Louis on. What if it even turns him off? What if he’s repulsed?

“It’s a really lovely present, Louis,” Harry says, drawing away. “Thank you.”

“Wasn’t done actually,” Louis says before Harry can return to the water. He cups his face, leaning in again, and kisses Harry deeply with a languid stroke of his tongue. Harry wishes then that he could climb into his lap. He moves his hands to Louis’ thighs, squeezing a little when the kiss overwhelms him. With a peck, Louis drops his hands and Harry sinks into the water to cool his flushed face and hide a smile.

“You’re really beautiful,” Louis says. “Sometimes I look at you and your skin’s glowing and you’ve got that smile and I feel like I can’t fucking breathe, to be honest.”

Harry assumes he’s wearing that smile now. “There’s a difference, though, isn’t there? Between someone finding you beautiful and finding you…sexy?”

“Maybe,” Louis says. “But you’re both.”

“Even like this?”

Louis’ brows crease. “What sort of question is that? Of course.”

“Prove it.”

Louis’ brows arch. “Come here and see for yourself,” he says, spreading his knees. There’s the slightest suggestion of an erection when Louis leans back, his hands splayed behind him.

Harry hesitates for several tense seconds, feeling his heart quicken and his breathing thin out. He hesitates a moment longer before swimming close once more, returning his hands to Louis’ thighs. They run their mouths together and then kiss for long mindless minutes. He eases his hands up further, fingertips just brushing Louis’ crotch. And when that seems okay, he presses his hand fully into Louis’ erection.

Louis rests his forehead against Harry’s. “Is that proof enough?”

Harry smiles. “Maybe,” he says. “Do you want to put it in my mouth?”

Louis looks at him with the same stupor as when Harry first asked for sex. Clearly, Harry needs to work on his delivery, but also they haven’t got a ton of time. He likes getting right to the point. Louis’ gaze lands on his mouth. “Christ,” he says to himself.

“I can’t promise it’ll be good,” Harry says.

“You’re taking the piss,” Louis says. “With those lips?”

“That sounds like a yes.”

“If you want to, fuck yes,” Louis says. “But this feels very one-sided.”

“I don’t care,” Harry says, reaching for the waistband of Louis’ shorts. He feels the virginal wonder like in the car. The same voracious curiosity that makes him duck his head into Louis’ lap without pause and have a lick of him. He tries just sliding his mouth down on him as if he’s an expert and gags. 

“Fucking hell,” Louis says, looking at him a bit wide-eyed.

“Was that bad?”

Louis covers his face his hands. “For fuck’s sake, Harry, no.”

“Will you tell me how you like it?” Harry asks.

“I’m liking it a lot already, believe me,” Louis says. “I feel like I’ve never had my dick sucked, if I’m honest.”

“Oh,” Harry says, grinning. If nothing else, he's confident in his work ethic. He feels spurned by the possibility of outshining Sam and anyone else who’s ever been with Louis like this. He puts all his effort into it, listening to the soft sighs and groans Louis emits, preening the instant Louis slides his hand into his hair. 

“So good like that, baby,” Louis says, his voice airy and desperate. He drops his head back. His thighs tremble. “Fuck.”

♆

Louis arrives with an iced coffee for Harry and a box of pizza to share the next time they meet. Usually Harry has to go without both for weeks. He turns voracious at the sight of the pizza box and pushes himself out of the water to sit on the rock beside Louis. He stuffs half a slice in his mouth, his eyes slipping closed, a soft groan leaving him.

“You’re not starving down there, are you?” Louis asks

“For seasoned food? Yes,” Harry says. “It’s all so bland. Sometimes it’s just live fish. We had an octopus last night and it was just there wriggling on the table. I couldn’t do it. Said I wasn’t feeling well and left.”

“Sounds shit,” Louis says. “I’ll bring food along from now on.”

Harry smiles with his mouth full of cheese. “Thank you.”

Louis watches him with a smile of his own. “The other day was nice,” he says, running his hand through his fringe. Harry is starting to realise it’s a nervous habit. It sounds wrong to say but he appreciates some confirmation that he’s not the only one occasionally nervous around the other. “Can’t stop thinking about it, really.”

Harry moves onto his iced coffee. He peeks at Louis. “Me neither,” he says.

“I have to ask,” Louis says. “How do you lot have sex?”

Odin help him. Harry wants to get washed away right then. Pulled away by a rogue current.

“Well—” Harry purses his lips. He looks into his lap and gestures at his waist. “So— Right now the scales stop here. When it’s time for sex, they like…retract. Lower. And sort of expose the bits you’ve already seen.”

Louis’ eyes narrow until he’s squinting. He rests his chin in his palm. “Huh.”

Harry chews his straw self-consciously. “It’s not as weird as it sounds.”

“Doesn’t actually sound weird at all. Simpler than I thought. Was worried your cock just sort of disappears with your legs,” Louis says, and Harry laughs in spite of how generally uncomfortable the topic is. “Would you want to do that with me?”

Harry chokes on a sip of coffee and has to clap his hand to his chest twice. “No,” he says.

Not the answer Louis was expecting, clearly. He blinks. “Well, alright.”

“No, I mean— It’s not you. It’s just— I like how we did it the first time. I’m fine waiting. Until the 15th.”

“That seems a long time to wait, no?”

“Is it for you?” Harry asks warily. “Because I understand if it’s difficult. If you need it more often. With someone else.”

“Do you want me to fuck someone else?” Louis asks outright.

Harry could throw up that pizza just thinking about it. “Of course not.”

“Feels like you’re suggesting I do,” Louis says. “I am fine waiting ‘cause I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“Fine,” Harry says. It’s hard to explain how the words thrill him and terrify him at the same time. Talking about sex and asking for it is easy enough when he’s human. But otherwise—  “I don’t want things to get weird.”

“Weird how?”

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I’m obviously not uncomfortable if I’m offering, am I? I want you to feel good,” Louis says. “The other day, for example, it’s only weird if I’m the only one that gets off.”

“You weren’t,” Harry says. “I took care of it once I got home.”

Louis just looks at him. “You took care of it,” he repeats.

“I got off,” Harry says.

“Alone?”

“ Yes .”

Louis seems partially mollified by that at least. “Seems unfair, like I said.”

Harry puts his face in his hands. “I want to wait,” he says. “Really, that’s what I want.”

“Okay,” Louis says. After a second, he draws Harry close and presses a kiss to the side of his forehead. “Whatever you want.”

“Maybe in time, I’ll want to, when I’m like this.”

“It’s alright,” Louis says. “You shouldn’t force yourself. But if you’re uncomfortable with it because you think I won’t like you or I won’t be attracted to you, that’s not the case. Please believe me when I say that. It’s all about trust and honesty, yeah? If I’m not into something, I’ll let you know as well.”

Trust and honesty. Harry is grateful he’s resting his head on Louis’ shoulder, so Louis doesn’t see the guilt pass over his face. He nods. “Alright,” he says. “I definitely don’t want you to be with anyone else.”

“Suppose that makes us sort of exclusive,” Louis says.

Harry narrows his eyes. “That’s not the same thing as being betrothed, is it?”

Louis snorts. “No. Ask me again in a year.” He realises what he’s said immediately because he looks away and stares numbly into the water.

“I thought we weren’t thinking about the future,” Harry says softly.

“Yeah,” Louis says, with a shrug. He looks at him and after a second of simply staring at one another, he leans in. “Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

They snog for what feels like forever, but regrettably isn’t. Whenever Louis draws away, Harry leans in again, and Louis laughs but happily obliges him. Harry wonders how humans aren’t just standing around all the time snogging their partners. If he had unlimited time with Louis, that’s all he’d want to do.

And have sex, obviously. And eat pizza. 

But then it’d be right back to snogging.

The problem is they don’t have unlimited time and so when Louis is due for work, he bids Harry goodbye, promises to see him soon and heads off on his boat.

Harry swims to the edge of the cave and watches him go, waving once. He goes to dive and catches sunlight reflecting in the corner of his eye. He swears he catches a glimpse of a tail and a hint of green, but when he looks fully, there’s nothing there. He lingers a second longer and dives deep toward home.

♆

Harry and his youngest sister, Isabel, exchange a glance at the sight of the next day’s dinner. Barnacle broth and squid eyes. Her nose scrunches in disgust and Harry mirrors her expression. Stifling a giggle, Isabel lifts her spoon.

“I’m curious,” August says, beside him.

Harry pretends not to hear him. Somehow he knows already he won’t like whatever he has to say. He has a sip of his soup and makes another face at Isabel. A giggle escapes her. The queen looks toward their end of the table and they all straighten their spines.

“From what I’ve observed in previous years, the resorts tend to be less busy in autumn. Hurricane season, I believe. The water is already more choppy than not, in fact.”

“Are you asking me a question?” Harry asks.

“Yes, sire. I’m wondering how much longer the lifeguards and such are likely to be employed at the resorts? Usually they’re only hired until mid-September.”

Harry stares into his soup. One of the squid eyes floats and rolls until the pupil is facing him. Staring him down. He nearly gags. Sweat dots his lip suddenly. He looks up at meets August’s gaze. “Why would I know something like that?”

“No, perhaps you wouldn’t. But Louis might?”

Harry drops his spoon into his bowl. “Apologies,” he says, rising. “I’m feeling very ill, all of a sudden. I’ll just go lie down.”

♆

Harry does not go to his room. Nor does he lie down. He’s thrown into a sudden panic. When he pictures Louis drowned and washed up on the shore, bile threatens to bubble up out of him. He swims more quickly than he ever has before. Like the sea is on fire. Like the difference between saving Louis and not saving Louis is a matter of seconds. 

Perhaps Louis is fine, but the very fact of his identity being exposed seems to guarantee he isn’t. August will have quietly directed some goons to dispatch with Louis by now. Harry will be too late. It’ll all be over.

Harry emerges from the water to catch the tail end of a bonfire, cut short by a delivery of worsening rain. The waters are rough due to a storm rolling in, sloshing Harry around, making it difficult to get an immediate look at everyone gathered or making their way home. When he finally sees Louis, his heart nearly leaps out of his chest. Harry nearly leaps out of the water. He watches Louis stroll off on his own, a beer dangling from one hand.

“Louis!”

It’s not Harry who calls to him, but Farah, rushing to join him.

Louis stops and turns back. “What’s up?”

She speaks hurriedly and with the storm, Harry can hardly hear or understand her. Neither lifeguard seems to mind the drizzle of rain. In fairness, Harry doesn’t mind either. He watches intensely, blinking only when the rainwater collecting on his eyelashes gets to be too much, afraid to miss a second of their interaction.

Suddenly, Farah lurches forward and kisses Louis on the mouth and a wave catches Harry in the back of his head. When he steadies himself, Louis has stumbled back.

“Whoa,” Louis says. He looks out toward the water, scanning the surface as best as he can in the dark. Harry ducks a bit lower just in case.

“Sorry,” Farah says, catching Louis by his forearm. “Was that okay?”

“Actually, I—”

A clap of thunder makes it impossible to hear him. Louis still hasn’t pushed Farah away or shaken her hand off his arm. To be fair, he’s drunk and off-balance. And Harry knows he doesn’t like her. But some part of him is also waiting moronically for Louis to decide he doesn’t actually like Harry either.

And regardless of the circumstances, Farah is still human all year round so Harry doesn’t totally feel like a match for her. Water sloshes into Harry’s face. He feels himself struggling against the current and decides he can’t watch any longer. It isn’t safe and he simply doesn’t want to.

Louis, though, is safe. Which is all he needed to confirm. He dives beneath the surface and swims home.

♆

Harry knows better, but he doesn’t actually go home that night. The palace will be in an uproar and there may be repercussions, but he can’t be arsed to care. He goes to the cave to be alone, to escape August and to listen to his music in peace. Perhaps he also treats himself to a cry or two. Listening to ‘Fade Into You’ by someone called Mazzy Star, he lies on his back atop the rock where Louis typically meets him and like this, he eventually falls asleep.

When he wakes, he’s groggy and unsure of the time. For once, he’s glad he and Louis don’t have plans to meet. Because he wouldn’t want Louis to see him like this, puffy-eyed and discontent.

With his headphones still on, he doesn’t hear the sound of the boat’s motor. And staring up at the ceiling of the cave, his drowsy eyes drifting open and shut, he doesn’t see Louis appear until he’s standing over him. Harry springs upright.

“Hi,” Louis says. “Sorry to scare you.”

Harry tugs his headphones off, avoiding eye contact. “It’s alright.”

Louis eases his hands into the pockets of his swim shorts. “Just thought I’d check if you were here,” he says. “There was a pretty bad storm late last night. ‘Cause of a hurricane nearby. The water looked insane. But I’m sure you’re used to it, though.”

Harry drags his palms over his face in case there are tear stains. “The water never really affects us down below.”

“That’s good,” Louis says. “You slept here, though.”

“I dozed off.”

Louis studies him carefully until Harry begins to fidget. “Why’ve you been crying?”

Harry shakes his head. He doesn’t want to lie, but he doesn’t want to tell the truth either.

“Were you watching at the bonfire last night?” Louis asks. “I felt like you were.”

“Not the whole time,” Harry says.

“So, when I was leaving?”

Harry huffs frustratedly. “Yes,” he says, looking at him. “You want to know if I saw the kiss? ‘Cause I did. And it’s not anything I didn’t expect.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe you’re not attracted to Farah, but eventually some guy will come along who you are attracted to. And I won’t be able to compete with them. I’ve accepted that.”

Louis pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling heavily. “Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t think she’d do that. But I stopped it immediately, didn’t I? Same as I’d do if it were anyone else. Bird or bloke. Attractive or not.”

“But some attractive bloke is best suited for you, aren’t they? Don’t you think you’d be better off dating someone normal?”

“I’ve tried normal,” Louis says. “I prefer you.”

Harry laughs bitterly. “For how long?”

“I don’t fucking know, Harry. Forever, probably!”

Afterwards, they just look at one another. With an exhausted huff of breath, Louis takes a step closer, then another as Harry holds himself tensely and struggles to think. He sinks atop Harry, one knee on either side of him, and draws him into a kiss.

“Louis,” Harry says, drawing away breathless.

“I want you,” Louis says. “Do you understand?”

And he kisses him again. Harry wants to pull away again, sink into the water and swim off. Not towards home because he hardly ever feels like he belongs there. The only place he’s ever felt at home is in Louis’ arms, cradled against Louis’ chest, tucked away in Louis’ car. So, as much as he thinks he should pull away, he can’t. He gives under the insistent pressure of Louis’ tongue in his mouth and his hands firmly grasping Harry’s jaw. 

“Do you understand?” Louis asks again.

Harry feels himself nodding, hears himself saying yes, but he’s so delirious he feels like he could float out and away from his body. His heart beats so madly he swears it’ll stop and that’ll be the end of him. And what he’d mourn most is missing out on Louis’ touch. He wants that so badly he might start crying again.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Louis asks as if he’s heard him. “I want to touch you.”

Harry covers his face with his hands. “Yes,” he mumbles.

“Show me, baby,” Louis says, kissing his sternum. “Please.”

So, Harry shows him. The way the scales retract is like a silk sheet sliding over skin, slipping away. At his pelvis, his skin fades from healthy tan and peach to shimmering blue and turquoise. His cock is the colour of his upper body, but flushed because he thinks he could burst the instant Louis puts his hand on him. He shudders and throws his arm over his face, which Louis allows for a second or two before he pins Harry’s wrist to the stone.

“I want to see you,” he says, almost pleading. “So beautiful, Harry.”

Harry feels beautiful is the thing. For all his worrying about how this would be, there’s no room for doubt that Louis wants him and likes what he sees or feels. He’s focused on him, eyes trailing down Harry’s torso when he’s not looking at his cock or leaning in for a kiss. He knows from the way Louis licks his lips and from the flush of his own face. He’s just as overwhelmed.

“Does it feel good?” Louis asks.

It’s so good all Harry can manage is another nod, his brows pinched and his mouth ajar. He feels like if he gives any more than that, he’ll come. After not even a minute of Louis touching him. He’s oversensitive and overstimulated in every way and knows already that when he comes, it’ll take the breath out of him. Perhaps, it’ll take the life out of him.

Louis crouches down and sucks the tip of Harry’s cock into his mouth. And that’s it. That’s the thing that undoes it all. Harry comes. He emits a shocked gasp and shudders until he’s thoroughly spent.

“Oh my God,” Harry says, his face burning. “I’m—”

“Don’t apologise,” Louis says, sounding breathless as he shoves his shorts down. He drags the heel of his palm over his cheek, licks Harry’s cum away, then wraps his hand around his own cock. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me. All I think about is you. All I want is you.”

Harry believes him finally. He sees his own desperation — to be close and centred — mirrored in Louis. In the quick tugging of his hand over his cock. In the measures he’s taken to come here and reassure Harry.

For no reason, he takes Louis’ free hand and kisses his palm. Then he just presses his cheek against Louis’ warm skin.

Harry is probably in love with him.

If being in love doesn’t describe the point where passion fuels tenderness, and vice versa, what else does? If it’s not about the elation and euphoria Harry feels resting his cheek in Louis’ palm as Louis comes and shoots across Harry’s own stomach, what is it about?

Running his fingers through Louis’ hair as he catches his breath afterwards, Harry grows certain.

“I’m feeling a swim,” Louis says, pushing himself up. And with a smirk, he tugs his shirt over his head and dives seamlessly into the water. He reemerges an instant later, arching his brows at Harry. “Coming?”

Harry grins. “Just did.”

And as Louis tilts his head back and laughs, Harry slips into the water and swims close.

♆

September 15, 2022

With his hands shielding his privates from view, Harry emerges from the water and dashes to Louis’ truck stalling at the edge of the bay. He quickly climbs inside where Louis looks down the length of him. “You might as well leave the clothes off,” he says.

Harry smiles, laughs and leans over to kiss him. Several times fast. Unable to pull away. “I can’t ride all the way to your place naked.”

“If you say so,” Louis says, reaching into the backseat. He hands Harry his yellow rucksack with his clothes. “But we’re not going to my place.”

“Where are we going?” Harry asks as he pulls on a pair of pants.

“You’ll have to just see.”

Harry would question further because he’s a critically curious individual. He likes to know everything he can possibly know as soon as he can know it. But he also likes a romantic surprise. He likes when Louis arrives with a pearl necklace or an iced coffee or a new playlist loaded on his phone. So he’ll indulge yet another surprise. How could he not?

He’s missed the wind in his hair while cruising around Louis’ truck. He watches the ocean and thick vegetation zipping by on either side of him. The sun like a sentinel following them overheard.

After a while, Louis pulls into the drive outside a white villa and kills the engine. “What are we thinking so far?” he asks.

“Of this?” Harry gestures to the house. “It’s gorgeous, obviously. What are we doing here?”

“What do you think?” Louis asks with an actual wiggle of his brows. He plucks his keys from the ignition.

Harry reaches for his arm, panicked. “I’ve never broken into a home before, Louis.”

Louis looks at him and then says, “Neither have I. First time for everything.”

“ Louis,” Harry says. “I don’t know if we should.”

Louis bursts into laughter, covering his face with his hand. He pinches his eyelids, drawing away tears, and composes himself. “We’re not breaking in, babe, I swear. A friend of mine works here. She gets discounts on booking, so I booked it. Promise we’ll leave the B&E for our anniversary.”

Harry wrinkles his brows. “What’s tying me up got to do with breaking in?”

“What?” Louis asks flatly.

“B&E,” Harry says. He’s positive he knows what that is. “Where you tie me up? Or I tie you up?”

Louis leans forward, resting his head on his steering wheel. His shoulders shake as he laughs.

“What?” Harry erupts.

“I think you mean BDSM, Harry,” Louis says, lifting his head, barely restraining another round of laughter. “You’re so fucking cute. Christ.”

Harry blows a raspberry. “Then what the hell’s B&E?”

“Breaking and entering, love. More relevant to the conversation.”

“Oh.”

Louis shakes his head. “Can we go in now?”

“Yes, please,” Harry says, climbing out of the car.

Inside they find an ideal beach home, With resolutely white and beige decor, it makes for an airy, light feeling, and the breeze drifting through the open doors doesn’t hurt at all. It’s beachfront which means it must cost a fortune, but that’s also obvious from the sheer size of it. Not as big as Harry’s palace obviously, but it might be considered a palace in its own right.

Standing in the stainless steel kitchen while Louis fiddles with the air con and the stereo system, Harry begins to imagine the kind of family that might live here. And then, thinking about families leads to thoughts of his own. And when he mentally envisions and catalogues his family, there’s Louis, like his matching bookend.

He strolls into the living room where Louis looks triumphant as a song begins playing. It’s Amy Winehouse. Harry knows it from one of his playlists. 

“Want to dance?” Louis asks.

“Yes, but later,” Harry says pointedly. “Please.”

Louis’ smile matches his own. “Bed’s that way,” he says with a nod of his head.

Harry reaches for his hand and marches there.

They don’t take their time, nor does he want them too. He’s determined to do this at least twice more before sunset, so perhaps then, he’ll ask to be fucked slow. For now, he wants it fast enough to burn through all the tension and energy he’s been harbouring for a month. In fact, they don’t make it to the bed. Harry plops his arse atop the vanity by the window and they fuck there, loud and reckless, nearly breaking a mirror while they’re at it.

They sink to the floor where Harry rides him. He’s not smooth about it at all, if bucking his hips in Louis’ lap can even be smooth. He knows where it feels good, he knows when he’s positioned perfectly to nail his spot, and he loses himself this way. He sinks onto Louis’ chest, boneless and weak from his orgasm, groaning encouragely as Louis goes on fucking him until he swears, holds Harry tight to his body and comes too.

And then they take up residence on the bed.

“You don’t fuck like that was your second time,” Louis says.

Harry simpers, turning onto his stomach and sliding his arm across Louis’ waist. “I was highly motivated.”

“Oh? Glad I could help,” Louis says, grinning. “I promised you breakfast, didn’t I?”

“I’d love breakfast,” Harry says. He kisses Louis’ cheek because he can, then rises with Louis and heads to the kitchen. He thinks again about a life where he wakes up in a home like this that belongs to them and they start their day in a similar fashion. Over a breakfast of iced coffee and toast topped with a runny egg, cucumber and fresh dill. Out on the patio facing the beach, Louis teaches him a bit of harmonica, demonstrating for Harry before carefully positioning Harry’s fingers on the instrument.

“That’s it,” he says when Harry successfully plays a five-second tune. “Quick learner.”

“You didn’t know that already from my blowjob?”

“Oh, shut up,” Louis says, laughing, ruffling Harry’s hair. His touch softens. He threads his fingers through Harry’s curls a while and Harry lets his eyes slip closed as he carries on playing one rogue note after another. “Let me show you something.”

He takes the harmonica and after only a second, Harry recognizes the lilting of his lullaby and his attention sharpens.

Safe in my arms, his mother once sang. Harry, you won’t be alone.

Louis stops playing when he sees the look on Harry’s face. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“I’m not really,” Harry says quickly. “It’s nice to hear it actually. I worry sometimes I’ll forget it otherwise.”

“I’ve got you covered then,” Louis says. “Whenever you want to hear it, just let me know.”

Harry smiles, resting his head on his forearm. “Thank you,” he says. “Keep playing. Please.”

He remembers feeling so comfortable in that moment. Lying in the sun, running his fingers down Louis’ back, and listening to a tune made and performed just for him. More comfortable and safer than he’s ever felt before. He doesn’t know a whole lot about life, about love or humanity in general. But he knows this feeling is rare. He knows to grasp it with both hands and never let it go.

Around noon, they make use of the pool in more ways than one. Probably not what the owners would want their renters doing in their pool, but that’s between Harry and Odin. And Louis, obviously.

“As nice as this is, I don’t think I want us to stay in all day,” Louis says.

Harry lifts his head off Louis’ chest. He loves that he can properly straddle him and he’s very content to sit in his lap all day, but he’s also anxious about making the best use of his sapiox.

“Me neither,” Harry says.

“What do you want to do then?”

Harry gives it a think. “You promised to take me out on the boat. Unless Zayn’s got it today?”

“Nope,” Louis says. And then with a playful slap on Harry’s arse, he says, “Let’s go for a ride.”

♆

“Look who it is,” says Niall when they turn up at the house for the keys to the boat. He sits on the couch with a sandwich on a plate in his lap.

Harry lifts his hand and waves awkwardly. “Nice to see you again.”

“Yeah, you too. Where do you go for months at a time, honestly?” Niall asks.

“Told you he was visiting family, mate,” Louis calls from the bedroom.

Niall’s gaze slides away from Louis’ bedroom door. “But didn’t you just visit family the month before?” he asks Harry.

“That’s insensitive,” Louis says, returning to the living room. He wiggles the keys at Harry. “Just going to grab the ice box.”

“Sorry,” Niall says, when Louis is gone. “Hope your family’s alright.”

Harry smiles. “That’s really kind of you. Thanks, Niall,” he says. “Where’s the toilet?”

Harry knows where the toilet is but he needs an excuse to escape Niall. Because he likes Niall and Zayn both. He likes what he’s heard of them and their history with Louis. Three musketeers from primary through secondary school, traumatised by a brief time apart during uni, running off to St Bart's for one summer that turned into another summer and another. They took up boating together. They purchased the boat on a whim when Zayn’s nan left money for him in her will. He knows the two will be in Louis’ life forever and as a person aiming for similar residence in Louis’ life, he wants them to like him. He doesn’t think clumsy attempts to conceal the fact that he’s a siren will do him any favours.

Niall gestures down the small hallway and Harry heads off. He notices the door to the back garden for the first time and gets closer, just to have a look.

“I don’t understand why you don’t just ask him to go back to London with you.”

“It’s complicated,” Louis says.

Harry is so busy craning his head to get a look at Louis and Zayn, he doesn’t realise how close he’s gotten until he clocks his head on the wood frame.

Both boys turn and notice him. With no point in hiding or running, Harry steps outside.

“Harry,” Zayn says. “Any interest in going to London with Louis?”

“Fucking hell,” Louis breathes, turning away.

“Yes,” Harry says, looking at Louis. “I’d love to.”

Louis’ expression is hard to describe. It’s a number of things all at once, though perhaps most of all, it’s hopeful.

“See?” Zayn says, lighting his cigarette. And as he reclines on a solitary lawn chair, he adds, “Problem solved.”

Louis goes on looking at Harry, his smile small. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Have fun,” Niall says on their way back, tossing a wink Louis’ way. “Be sure to clean up after yourselves on the boat. You know Zayn hates it when we don’t.”

“I’m very tidy and I never litter,” Harry says.

“I meant bodily fluids, mate,” says Niall.

Harry’s brows crease. “What?”

Louis takes Harry’s hand quickly and tugs him out of the house. “Christ. We’re off. Thanks for the chat.”

After a stop for sandwiches, fruit and beer to load into the cooler, they set off. He thought he’d reached the limit of his attraction to Louis. Because surely, like all things above and below the sea, there must be a limit. But he’s no longer sure. Seeing Louis in his pink shirt with all the buttons undone, working the rigs of the sails, he feels the attraction multiplied by some indeterminate but massive number.

Harry lures Louis into the cabin under the guise of ‘wanting a tour’. In fairness, he likes what he sees of the boat’s interior. The quaint gas stove and small boxy tv atop a micro-fridge covered with pictures of Louis, Zayn and Niall. But he especially likes the bed and when they get close enough to it, he pushes Louis down, much to his amusement, and mounts his hips. 

Afterwards, Niall’s comment finally lands in its true form. They don’t get ‘fluids’ anywhere troublesome, but it makes Harry wonder. He pushes himself upright on the bed and asks, “Have you had sex on this boat before?”

Louis hesitates. “Three summers ago, yeah. Only the once,” he says. “Are you actually upset?”

“No,” Harry decides. “Not with you.”

“The other lad is long gone, Harry. Was just a summer stint.”

Harry looks at him. “Like a fling.”

“Right,” Louis says awkwardly. 

“Would’ve liked to have met you three summers ago, but I wasn’t transforming then. Wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that,” Louis says. “I don’t remember what being with someone was like before you. I just know I didn’t like it. I think it would’ve been the same back then. Whether I met you on land or not. I would’ve wanted to know you, same as now.”

Harry chews on his bottom lip as he thinks. “A few of the resorts are closed already, aren’t they?”

Louis is visibly caught off-guard by the question. “Yeah,” he says.

“And yours?”

“We close for the next three weeks.”

Harry feels a lump forming in his throat. He won’t cry today. Not on a Sapiox. Tomorrow, there’ll be plenty of time. He forces a smile. “Time for sandwiches?”

Louis eyes him warily. “Yeah. I’m starving,” he says, pushing himself out of bed.

They eat out on the deck where Louis cracks a beer open for Harry. “Just try a sip,” he advises.

Harry slurps gingerly from the beer bottle. He doesn’t hate the first sip, so he has another longer pull. Louis’ eyes widen when Harry’s downed half his supply. “It’s nice,” Harry says with a burp. “Refreshing.”

Louis laughs as he opens a bottle for himself. “You’re not actually afraid to try anything, are you?”

“With you, no,” Harry says.

“Making me blush,” Louis says. He raises his bottle. “Here’s to trying things together, then.”

“Together,” Harry adds.

Louis smiles and taps their bottles together.

They have a swim, which starts with Louis doing a cannonball off the back of the boat. Louis goads Harry into a race and Harry beats him (obviously). They backfloat and when Harry’s hand brushes Louis’, they decide at once to entwine their fingers.

Harry wrings water out of his hair, paused on the deck of the boat. He hears Louis fiddling with a radio inside the cabin, the channels cutting in and out before he finally finds a steady broadcast of music.

Harry steps into the cabin and Louis turns to him, holding out his hands. “Time for that dance, I think.”

Harry drops his towel at his side and steps forward without delay. He sets his hands in Louis’. “I’ve never actually danced with anyone before. Not with these legs.”

Louis huffs a laugh. “You’ll do fine,” he says, setting his hand on Harry’s waist. “Just follow my lead.”

This comes easily to Harry because the truth is he’d follow Louis anyhow and anywhere.

So for a while, he sways with him in the small space allotted to them. And laughs when Louis spins him. And louder when Louis pulls him back close and he collides with Louis’ chest. He laughs so hard and for this reason — for the unbridled humour Louis gifts him — he kisses Louis as soon as he can catch his breath, cupping his face, jamming their mouths together, refusing to stop.

He watches the sunlight on the roof of the cabin as they recline in bed minutes later. The music is still going but they’re pleasantly exhausted now with their arms around each other, legs entangled. He’s so happy but the sunlight is coming from the west now and sinking lower by the minute.

“How much time do we have?” Louis asks. Not for the first time he’s read Harry’s mind.

Harry lifts his head and peers through the window, so he can get a proper look at the horizon. “An hour, I think,” he says.

Louis looks purposefully at him and smiles. “Better make use of it, then,” he says, situating himself between Harry’s legs. Harry snickers and squirms as Louis kisses his neck and his beard tickles. He runs his hands up Louis’ smooth back and their mouths meet.

He’s been kissing Louis for weeks now. For hours at a time. Still, he maintains it’s the best thing in the world. The thing he’d do ad nauseum if he could walk on land indefinitely.

And on that topic, nonsensically, Harry pulls away. 

“When are you leaving St Barts?” he asks quickly, before he can think otherwise. He has to face the matter he’s avoided all summer. Because summer is over.

Louis hesitates, brushing his thumb over Harry’s dimple. “I still haven’t booked a flight home yet,” he says. “Since the resort is closing for a few weeks, I won’t be able to work there. But there are a few jobs at the restaurants or at the grocery store. I could take up fishing.”

“But you want to be a doctor,” Harry says. “What about your residency?”

“Yeah, eventually I’ll do that too.”

“Louis,” Harry says, exasperated. “You don’t have to stay here for me.”

If Harry words this next part right, there may be another way. A better way.

“Listen—”

“I think I love you,” Louis says.

Harry stares at him wide-eyed and Louis rolls off him and presses his hand to his eyes. “We don’t have to make a big deal of it.”

“It is a big deal!” Harry says.

“I know it is,” Louis says. He drops his hand away. His ears and cheeks are going red. He pulls Harry to lay back down on his chest. “Pretend it isn’t for a second, yeah?”

Harry can hardly think. The words tumble around his head until he feels dizzy. Like his head is one of the washers at the laundromat in town and he’s been watching the clothes go round and round for too long.

“I suppose it’s obvious by now — I hope it is — but this isn’t just a fling. It’s not even close,” Louis says. “I don’t want to leave here if it means leaving you. I didn’t expect to feel this way so quickly. I obviously haven’t felt this way about anyone before. Hence why my face probably looks like a tomato.”

Harry laughs and looks at him. “A bit.”

“Thanks”, Louis says dryly. Then he’s smiling again, tentatively. “I want to be with you in whatever way I can be. For however long it’s possible. That’s all.”

Harry finds a way to steady his breathing. “Would you do whatever it takes? To be with me?”

Louis’ brows crease. “Yeah, I reckon I would.”

Harry sits upright. “Louis,” he says decisively, drawing his shoulders back.

“Yeah?” Louis radiates patience right then and Harry loves him for it. He knows he loves him now more than ever. Louis has always been patient with him. He’s shown him understanding and devotion unlike Harry has ever known. He wants that forever. Even if he’s terrified to ask for it.

“What if—?”

The radio starts blaring, startling them both. Louis rises and listens close.

“The national weather service has issued a severe thunderstorm warning,” an automated voice says followed by the areas affected and a series of expected conditions. Flooding and high winds included. The message is then repeated in French as Louis gets up from the bed and finds his phone. He peers at the screen, his brows deeply furrowed.

“What is it?” Harry asks.

“It’s a squall,” Louis says. He goes to the window, scanning the horizon. “Zayn can just look at the sky and the water and tell when something might come. I’m not quite there.”

He turns and gives him a reassuring smile.

“It should be fine, to be honest. Bit of wind, it looks like. Hurricane season is unpredictable, that’s all,” Louis says, but still he starts looking for his shoes. “Going to drop the sails now. Might be good to head back.”

Harry finds his shoes as well, watching Louis’ retreating figure as he takes the stairs to the deck. All the chutzpah he mustered minutes ago has seeped out of him. With the storm incoming and the sun setting, he’s running out of time to ask the questions he needs to. October’s Sapiox might be too late.

Harry goes to the deck as well and sees Louis marching towards to the bow of the ship to drop the jib. Beyond him, near the horizon, is a cluster of disconcertingly grey clouds. Harry goes to the rails of the boat and peers down at the water. His expertise regarding the water really lies with the creatures hundred of metres below. He’s not entirely sure, but he thinks the waves seem less timid than they did minutes ago. The boat sways with a slightly increased frequency. Up ahead, a few seagulls fly in the opposite direction of the distant storm.

Then a siren emerges from the water directly in front of him. Harry can’t see his tail but he knows his kind from the faint glimmer of his skin. An instant later, another appears. One male. One female. Both stunning and regal and unfamiliar to him. And their unfamiliarity gives their identity away. If they were royals in his own kingdom, he absolutely would’ve seen them before. So they’re not from his kingdom. Likely, they’re the Rhinebecks. Ivan and Irina. Finally paying him an unwelcome visit.

As if to confirm, August rises to the surface as well. And Harry understands this ambush for what it is. He swings his gaze up towards Louis, but Louis is focused on the sail.

“Prince Harald,” Irina says.

Harry regards the three sirens. “What are you doing here?” he asks August.

“That’s hardly the introduction we were expecting,” says Ivan.

“This is hardly how we were meant to be introduced,” Harry says. “It’s the Sapiox today. If you don’t mind, can we postpone this till tomorrow?”

“My lord,” Augusts begins in his snivelling tone. “The Rhinebecks have just arrived today. At least a hello?”

Harry glares at him. “Apologies,” he says to Ivan and Irina. “Welcome. Really. If we could just—”

He hears Louis’ feet hit the deck behind him and considers just diving into the water. Just swimming away. The three sirens would likely follow him. There’s not enough of them to capsize the sailboat in his absence.

“Who are you talking to?” Louis asks.

Harry turns, trying to block Louis’ view. “Just friends from back home. Do you mind just—?”

“Friends?” Ivan says, barking a laugh. “I understand we’re all still getting to know each other. But we’re hardly friends.”

“Oh, what are you then?” Louis asks Harry, his expression slowly shifting.

“Louis,” Harry says. “I need to explain something.”

“Who are they?” Louis asks pointedly.

“His betrotheds, human,” Irina says. “Who are you ?”

Louis just stares at the sirens in the water. Terrifyingly, he doesn’t look at Harry at all, but his question is for him. “Is that true?”

“Of course it’s true,” says Irina. “I never lie.”

“Think I’ve heard that before,” Louis says and swiftly turns away.

“How rude,” Irina says.

“Would you fuck off?” Harry snaps at her and the rest. “Please.”

Ivan’s brows shoot upright and his mouth curls. “Does he get that foul language from the human?” he asks August.

A crack of thunder startles them all, though Harry is so full of rage, he swears he summoned it.

“Prince Harald,” August says. “It’s no longer safe for you here.”

Harry curls his fists and straightens his spine. “If you don’t leave this second, the first thing I’ll do as king is see you’re banished. Or turned into sushi,” he says. “I’m ordering you to leave me alone. And take our guests with you.”

“What’s sushi?” Irina asks.

“August wouldn’t want to find out,” Harry says. “Leave now.”

And he doesn’t wait for them to go. He turns and starts off toward Louis, just as a strong gust of wind rocks the boat. An instant later, the rain comes. Harry rushes into the cockpit. “Louis,” he says.

“You’re best off not saying a word to me,” Louis says quietly. “I need to focus on getting myself home. Suppose you can just swim off now, yeah?”

It probably is best to leave him alone. But Harry can’t do it. Not like this.

“It sounds worse than it is,” Harry says carefully. “I’ve been engaged to them since I was born. All princes are arranged with one female and one male siren. I couldn’t tell you why. But I don’t actually like either of them.”

Louis shakes his head. “Christ,” he says under his breath. “I thought it was bad the last bloke had one fiance. You’ve got two .”

“This isn’t like with Sam. I didn’t choose to be engaged to them. I know nothing about them at all. I’ve never even spoken to them before. I swear to you.”

Louis turns to him. “Do you think that’s the issue here? You lied to me, Harry. You said you didn’t lie, but that was a lie too, yeah? Biggest of them all.”

“I hardly ever thought about them. I wanted to tell you, but I’d forget them when I was with you.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better? ‘I’ve got two fiancés but pay them no mind?’ Do I look like a fucking idiot?”

“Of course not,” Harry says, pressing his hands to his face. His skin feels hot. Frustrated tears spring to his eyes and he fights them back.  “I’m not saying the right thing—“

“Yeah, you never do. I always tried to understand, though, didn’t I? You could’ve talked to me. You could’ve given me the chance. ‘Cause we all deserve honesty, right? I thought we agreed on that.”

Harry doesn’t know what else to say, but he’s foolishly hopeful that he’ll find the right words eventually. Any second now. And where words fail, there’s touch. So, for now, he steps close to him, reaching for Louis’ forearm. “I’m sorry—“

“No,” Louis says, lifting his arm away. There’s another crack of thunder. Rain pummels the windows violently. Louis turns back to the wheel and turns the engine on.

“This is why I couldn’t tell you,” Harry says quietly.

Louis whips around again. “Sorry?”

“For us to be together, you’d have to be willing to do whatever it takes. This could cost me everything, but you’re giving up just like—”

“Alright, yeah. You can fuck off actually. I don’t have to prove anything to you anymore.”

“You said you loved me. And you cared about me.”

“I do care about you,” Louis snaps. “I do love you. But you don’t love me. You didn’t say it back and now it’s clear why. It’s not love if you don’t trust me. It’s not love if you lie to me. It’s not love if you don’t believe in us. I might not know everything about life as a siren prince, but I believed things could work for us. I wanted it to. And now I’m saying to you that I couldn’t give a fuck about any of it anymore and I think I’ve got that right. I’m probably always going to love you at this point. But you’ve got your hands full, darling, don’t you? Allow me to be one less thing for you to worry about.”

“Louis—” Harry can hardly get his name out, choked by a sob as he is. He feels a sudden tingle shoot up his legs and looks toward the horizon, but he can hardly see the sun with the thick storm clouds greying everything out. Even without seeing it, he knows what time it is. He knows his emotions have accelerated the rate of his transformation. His knees give out a moment later and he sinks to the ground. “Fuck.”

Louis looks at him. “What’s wrong?”

Harry has never hated this part more. “I need to get in the water,” he says gruffly.

“I can take you somewhere else,” Louis says. “It’s not safe here.”

“I might not make it somewhere else.”

“Alright,” Louis says, kneeling. He noticeably avoids his gaze as he pushes his arm up beneath Harry’s legs, but they’re in a crisis here. It’s hardly the time to be bothered by it. Louis tries to stand but as the tide pushes them one way and the wind pushes them the other and the boat rattles and rocks, it makes it impossible for him to gain his balance. Quickly, he tries a different strategy, tucking his arms beneath Harry’s armpits. He starts heaving Harry towards the deck.

When they make it, Harry says, “I can push myself to the back and jump off. Focus on the boat.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Louis. Look at the water,” Harry says, just as a wave splashes the side of the boat and sends water splashing across the deck. “You have to make it home.”

Louis lingers for a second that he doesn’t have. Then stands, making his way back to the main sail. Harry has a last look at Louis. In the midst of everything, with a portentous cover of storm clouds above, it feels like a last and final look. Louis happens to glance at him as well.

And then, a bolt of lightning strikes the deck.

It’s one of those things he wouldn’t believe could happen until it does. It happens in the films or to distant people in distant places. But Harry would never expect it to happen to him. Lightning in and of itself never seems quite real even when it’s miles above him, especially not when it’s inches away from his tail. For a moment, everything is bright blinding blue and smoke.

It stuns them both, but it causes Louis to stumble back into the railing. Another wave and a gust of wind tilt the boat sharply and the loose boom of the main sail swings widely and hits Louis in his chest. In the blink of an eye, Louis goes overboard.

Harry shouts for him. He turns onto his bum and begins pushing himself to the back of the deck where he can jump off. Without hesitation, Harry dives into the water, listening as best as he can for the sound of Louis’ heart or his breathing. The thudding of the waves against the boat confuses him, but he follows the softest sound he can detect.

When he finds Louis, he wraps both arms around Louis’ torso and swims to shore. It takes him only a minute but by the time he makes it there, the rain has stopped. He does his best to pull Louis as far onto the sand as possible. The sound of his heart is so faint he has to lean his ear towards his chest.

“Louis,” Harry says, lightly slapping his cheek. Then he pinches Louis’ nose closed, seals their lips together and breathes deeply. He folds his hands together and begins a slightly frenzied round of chest compressions. Then again and again. “ Louis .”

Water bubbles up from Louis’ lungs and out of his mouth. Harry turns him onto his side as he vomits water, coughing violently, balling sand up in his fist like he needs something to hold onto. When it’s over, he sits upright, wiping his hand across his mouth.

Louis looks at him. They look at one another. Neither says a thing.

“I do love you,” Harry says.

Louis’ jaw locks as he looks out towards the ocean. The rough waves are subsiding. Their relationship is much like a squall when Harry thinks about it. Relentless and all-consuming in one instant, then nothing at all.

Harry leans in, kissing Louis on the corner of his mouth. “Bye, Louis,” he says.

With his eyes resolutely focused on the water, Louis says, “Bye.”

♆

Autumn Sapioxes are typically fine and the ones that year pass normally enough. He finds a note in his rucksack that Louis left him with information on how to publish his poems if he decides to. But Louis himself is nowhere to be found. In October, he finds that the house where Louis stayed has been rented to new tenants. Zayn and Niall have disappeared too, along with the majority of the summer season staff.

He does decide eventually to publish his poems. Mostly because he doesn’t have anything else to look forward to and finishing the book he promised the publisher allows him to pass each Sapiox with a small degree of ease — cosy in a coffee shop, though looking through the window constantly whenever someone passes by the window. For a fraction of a second, he’s always so sure it’ll be him. But obviously, it never is.

♆

December 15, 2022

Winter Sapioxes, by comparison, are brutal. Not because the water gets cold because it doesn’t at all and even if it did, his kind wouldn’t be affected much. Winter is a peak season on St Barts. There’s an influx of tourists similar to early spring and summer. Families. Couples. A mostly new group of lifeguards. 

He was a little grateful for the quieter moment in October and November. Caught in the bustle of loving family units and partners spending their first Christmas together, he is painfully alone.

He’s just about to leave the cafe, abandoning his broccoli cheddar soup, when a woman slides into the seat opposite him. His first reaction is confusion. His second is shock. As much as he worried he didn’t remember her, he knows without a doubt she’s his mother.

“Hi, Harry,” Astrid says.

And for reasons he knows well but can’t explain, Harry begins to cry. He puts his face in his hands and in the corner of his vision, he sees a handful of napkins easing closer to him.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” she says.

Harry looks at her. He can’t imagine the state of his face. “I haven’t seen you for years. Of course I’m crying. Why aren’t you?”

“I see you all the time. I just keep my distance.”

With a frustrated sigh, Harry shakes his head. He can’t do this. Not on top of everything else. He goes to stand again and his mother reaches for his hand.

“Please wait, darling,” she says. “I just want to talk.”

“About what? Why now? And why would you keep your distance from your own child?”

“I was afraid of the consequences for you if you were seen with me. And it’s no excuse, but I was afraid you hated me, to be honest. You never responded to the letters I left you.”

“I didn’t want letters. I wanted to see you,” Harry says. But to be fair, he thought about writing back several times. He started several letters even and now he wishes he finished at least one. “But maybe I didn’t know what to believe either. Whether you were banished because you chose your human. Or because you didn’t have a choice.”

“I wouldn’t have chosen him if it meant leaving you. You have to know that,” his mum says. “When I admitted to loving him, I was forced to leave. I didn’t even get to say bye.”

Her face appears slightly flushed in the faint light overhead. She looks down at her hands folded on the table and Harry notices her modest wedding ring.

“Did you ask to marry him?” Harry asks quietly. “Or did he ask you?”

“He asked me. But I would’ve asked him otherwise,” she says. “What about you? Did you consider asking your human?”

Harry is only momentarily stunned, but he realises that if his mother has spotted him walking around, surely she’s seen him with Louis. “Yes,” Harry admits. “But I didn’t get the chance.”

“Do you not think he’ll come back?”

“No, I don’t. I lied to him. I hurt him,” Harry says. He’s so sick of crying, but he can’t seem to fucking stop. He feels his eyes stinging and presses the heels of his palms into them. “And I can’t even apologise properly because he’s gone and I don’t know where.”

“Don’t worry. You let me figure it out.”

Harry drops his hands, looking at her with his watery eyes. He helps himself to a napkin and softly blows his nose. “How?” he asks, muffled.

“My husband, Jack, he’s a manager at one of the resorts. He’s friends with the other managers and I’m sure if he asked for Louis’ contact information, they’d help,” she says. “Like I said, don’t worry about it for now. Let me handle it.”

Harry could write a whole novel of things he’s been waiting to say to his mother, but in the moment, none of them matter. Suddenly, Harry doesn’t feel so alone. Right when he needed company most and all he can say, for that and for her help, is “Thank you.”

“I’m your mother. I’ll always look out for you. I always have,” Astrid says. “Not just because you’re my son. But down below is no place for people like us. They pretend they’re tolerant of sirens who are different but they’re not. I didn’t want to influence you one way or another, but I always hoped you’d meet a nice human and find a way out.”

“I want out,” Harry says. “I do.”

“I know, darling. Don’t give up hope,” she says. “And look—”

She reaches into her tote bag and removes a Manila envelope. Inside is a large piece of paper. Birth Certificate, it read.

“When Louis comes back, because I believe he will,  you’ll need this,” she says. “I’ll keep it safe for you for now. You’ll also need a passport, but we’ll sort that out another day.”

“Thank you,” Harry says again. He’s tempted to cry again too, but with a trembling exhale, he resists.

“No need to thank me. I’ve got a lot of making up to do,” Astrid says.

“Well, yeah. But you’re doing me a big favour. And not for the first time,” Harry says. “You saved Louis, you know? When he was a boy? And you hummed my lullaby for him.”

Astrid smiles. “Yes,” she says. “I’ll be honest with you, when he started working here during the summer years ago, I realised he was that boy. He was playing the lullaby on his harmonica and I knew. Whenever I noticed him about town, I thought he was so lovely. So friendly and bright. I thought you two would get on quite well. I even hoped you’d meet. And you did. It could have been anyone that night. I would have saved them the same. But I think there’s a reason it was him. You have to believe that too.”

“Okay,” Harry blubbers as he reaches for more napkins and his mother laughs. “I must get all this crying from you.”

“Oh, absolutely. I was a huge baby when I was your age.”

“Are you calling me a huge baby?”

“Well, you’re my baby, at least,” Astrid says, and stands before he can protest to that. “The sun is getting low.”

Harry feels a jolt of panic. “When will I see you again?”

“Very soon, I promise.” His mother leans in and kisses his cheek. “Get back safe, darling.”

♆

January 15, 2023

Sometimes Harry goes to the cave. Not to cry. Not anymore, although that used to be the point. The first time he ever went there specifically for a breakdown, back in August, Louis showed up, almost telepathically, to comfort him.

So, maybe Harry thought history might repeat itself. But weeks passed of him crying in the cave — so loud he thought nearby ships could hear him — and Louis never came.

Since October, he’s gone to the cave to write, to listen to his music, to blow aimlessly into a harmonica he purchased as a Christmas gift to himself. He plays terribly but enjoys it anyway.

That Sapiox in January, he sits in the cave and manages an acceptable tune. As the sound reverberates back to him, he wonders what Louis would think of it.

And then Louis pushes up out of the water and onto the rock at the opening of the cave.

Harry doesn’t immediately knows it’s him. At the sight of movement, he startles and leans forward to dive. Even in his human form, he’s used to darting off at the first alarm.

“Wait,” Louis says, but of course, Harry isn’t going anywhere now. He feels his eyes begin to sting and bites hard on his bottom lip. And the pain of doing so tells him he’s not dreaming.

“Hoped I’d find you here,” Louis says. “Was looking all over town for you.”

“It’s a bit busy in town these days,” Harry says. He looks down the length of Louis, truly shocked by his presence. “How long have you been back?”

“Just two days. I’ve been walking a bit on the beach and at the bay. Did you see me?”

Harry might have, but— “Thought my mind was playing tricks.”

Just two days ago, he thought he saw Louis. But he reasoned it was someone who only looked like him. Still, maybe that was why he came here today when he could be riding a bike or eating an entire pizza pie on his own. He just had to be sure.

“You didn’t try approaching me. Does that mean you don’t want to talk?”

“I think I was just scared.”

“Of me?”

Harry gives him an incredulous look. “Of getting close again.”

Louis tucks his hands into the pockets of his swim shorts and steps closer. He’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt, that’s obviously damp from his swim and transparent. Seeing the tattoos across his chest, Harry misses the days he could rest his head there and listen to the soft thud of his heart. He misses him so much he can hardly think. Even now, with Louis stood right in front of him. Especially now.

The fact that Louis is wearing the shirt at all makes it seem like he didn’t think before swimming here. Just sprinted into the water and paddled off. And now here he is, trying to organise whatever it is he wants to say.

“I’m sorry I left the way I did,” he begins. “I was angry.”

“You had a right to be.”

“I did, yeah. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how angry I was for a while,” Louis admits. “But then one day, back in London, I realised I wasn’t thinking about the anger at all. Was just thinking of you. Couldn’t stop, really. Obviously still haven’t.”

“Me neither,” Harry says quietly. “I miss you.”

“Yeah, I miss you too,” Louis says. He sits beside Harry, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve got more to say.”

“Can I go first? Please,” Harry says. He finally sets his harmonica aside, atop his notebook, filled with poems and broken-hearted ruminations about Louis. All the things he’d say if he had the chance.

Well, here it is.

“I’m still engaged to Ivan and Irina, but I don’t want to be. I don’t want any life where you’re not around. I grew up with everyone shaming my mother for her choices. But she didn’t want to leave me. She never had a choice. I do. And I want to leave. Especially if it means I can try again with you.”

“And how do we do that?”

Harry chews his bottom lip.

“Harry,” Louis urges.

“If you marry me on the next Sapiox, I won’t turn back,” Harry blurts, all in one rush of breath. “It’s how my mum did it. I was going to ask you in September but I waited too long and either way, I didn’t know this at the time but it has to be a legal ceremony. But I saw my mother recently and she has a birth certificate for me, so I can do it.”

Once he gets it all out, he chances a glance at Louis, only to find him surprisingly unperturbed. And that somehow seems worse than if Louis were shocked. Like supposedly he finds the idea so absurd, he has no emotion to supply. Harry presses his face into his hands. He’s an idiot. After months apart, there’s no chance Louis would even consider—

‘The US Virgin Islands is the nearest place we could do it,” Louis says. “There are no direct flights, but I spoke to a friend who charters flights and she’s happy to fly us there.”

Harry looks at him. “What?”

“Your mum wrote to me,” Louis says. “She said there was a way we could be together. And I want to be with you. Since I met you. That’s all I’ve wanted.”

“Me too,” Harry says, turning fully towards him, cupping Louis’ face. “Me too, Louis. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Louis says, grasping Harry by the hips. “I’m sorry I left you to think otherwise.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you. And for all the stupid shit I said,” Harry says. “I love you so much. I’m sorry I didn’t say so sooner.”

“That’s all the apologising you get to do for the foreseeable future,” Louis says.

Harry laughs. He studies every bit of Louis’ beautiful face. “I get to be with you now every day,” he says. “I’ve got nothing else to be sorry for.”

“Good. Get here,” Louis says, pulling him closer by his hips and finally, for the first time in too many months, they kiss. Harry throws his arms around Louis’ shoulders. He wants to straddle his lap and stay that way forever. But there are pressing matters at hand.

There's forever at hand.

“Okay,” Harry says. “Let’s get married.”

♆

February 15, 2023

“On a scale of one to ten,” Louis begins. “How miserable are you right now?”

The temperature in London is a few degrees below freezing. Even bundled in his new puffy coat and scarf, Harry feels the bitter cold whip and sting his cheeks.

“I’m actually not miserable at all,” Harry says. “I like it.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not. It makes me feel alive.”

Louis groans tiredly. “Fuck’s sake. Just don’t get too comfortable,” he says. “I like England as much as anyone, but we’ve agreed, yeah? We’re moving to someplace warm when my residency is over?”

Londoners pass idly by around them. Cars collect at the nearest stoplight. Above and around them are windows all aglow and flats full of life. Supper beginning. Children readying for bed. A cat snoozes in the window of a coffee shop and Harry stops to admire her. Louis stops as well and when Harry looks at him, he’s wearing a smile. He always obliges Harry’s moments of wonder. Whenever Harry pauses in the middle of the pavement or in the middle of the mall or on London Bridge a week ago. Harry marvels over everything and Louis seems happy enough to witness it.

“I don’t know,” Harry says with a whining lilt to his voice. “I like snow.”

“You’ve never experienced snow. It hasn’t snowed once since we got here.”

“It will and I know I’ll like it,” Harry says as they begin walking again. “Do you want to get a cat?”

“You know I struggle to say no to you,” Louis says.

“So, that’s a yes?”

“Sure,” Louis says.

Harry grins from ear to ear. They reach their building and climb the short walk to #5, the flat they’re still slowly working to furnish. Currently, they’ve got a couch, a growing collection of books and vinyl records, a telly and a table for two positioned by their blessed kitchen window. Undoubtedly, his new favourite thing is waking in the morning to coppery light thrown across the worktops and the hob as he fixes coffee for him and Louis. He looks forward to every morning and starting them just like that. 

They deposit their grocery bags on the table. Then Louis looks at Harry and says, “Guess we should get started.”

Harry isn’t exactly the best cook, but as they’ve established, he’s a fast learner. He takes easily to recipes and instruction from Louis. He’s already much better at chopping an onion than he was weeks ago. And when Louis selects a chip and tries his salsa, nothing can stop the rush of pride Harry feels as Louis rolls his eyes and practically moans.

“That’s fucking delicious, babe.”

Nothing can stop that rush.

They manage a modest spread, working together — salsa, fajitas, queso — and slide a Mexican chocolate cake in the oven for baking just as the door buzzes.

“I’ll get it,” Harry says. “You change.”

Louis hurries off to change into his party clothes and Harry greets the first of their guests.

He’s crossed a lot of things off his growing list in just a month. First flight. First time driving a car (and potentially the last). First time ending the night in the arms of someone he loves. First time sharing a home with that person and then, welcoming friends into that home.

Zayn and Niall arrive with their dates. Then, the woman who runs the bookstore where Harry works named Isabelle. Next, two of Louis’ university mates. And lastly, the couple from flat #4.

Harry knew he wanted to celebrate his next Sapiox somehow. One last time. Watching everyone feasting and toasting margaritas, he knows he chose the best way.

Once, during dessert, Harry looks across the room at Louis, parked on the arm of the couch as he chats to Harry’s boss, and Louis happens to look back, The way he feels whenever he does hasn’t changed much from that first time on the boardwalk. He should be used to it by now, but it still undoes him and puts him back together at the same time. When Harry first looked at Louis, he couldn’t quite remember who or what or why he was, but he also felt certain he had to know Louis. That he was a person destined to know him. To be in his life in whatever capacity the universe allowed.

“I’d say that was pretty successful, wouldn’t you?”

“Did you taste our fajitas?” Harry asks. “Of course it was successful.”

“I think the cake was the star of the show, to be fair,” Louis says.

Harry smiles, leaning into him. “I think you’re the star of the show.”

“No, you are,” Louis says, and kisses him before he can disagree. He presses his fingers into Harry's hips with an urgency Harry immediately feels himself. They’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do, especially after declining offers from their guests to help. But it'll have to wait. By the end of their fete, Harry just wanted to be alone with Louis as quickly as possible. It's funny that he gets so much time alone with him these days, but there’s no such thing as too much and it'll never be enough.

“Fuck me,” Harry says.

“Such a dirty mouth on you,” Louis says as he takes his hands and steps backwards towards their room. "Wonder where you got that from?"

Harry insisted on a canopy bed because, after years of sleeping on something similar, he'll admit he missed it. After Louis comes and sort of collapses atop him, Harry peers through the gauzy curtain surrounding their bed. Louis' soft, but quick puffs of breath slightly tickle whenever they coast over Harry’s fevered skin. But Harry keeps his arms around him, trailing his fingers up and down Louis' spine. His heightened sense of hearing faded, along with the rest of his siren abilities (although he is likely still the fastest swimmer between them). So he can’t hear Louis’ heart, but he can feel it still racing with their chests pressed together. He feels lulled by it. By Louis' breathing and the warmth of his skin. His eyes begin to slip closed.

Then, they pop open. He makes an inhuman sound. The kind of sound humans probably imagine sirens might make.

Louis shoots upright. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s snowing!"

Louis’ expression flattens.

“ Louis ,” Harry says, scooting out from under him. “It’s snowing! Up! Please.”

“I’m not going back outside, Harry.”

Harry puts on his best pout. “Please, Louis,” he says, crawling onto the mattress again. He kisses his cheeks, his forehead, his mouth. “Just for a bit? Please. I love you.”

“That’s not fair,” Louis grumbles. But he only hesitates a second longer before he throws his legs over the side of the bed and stands. “Just for a bit.”

Harry bounds off the bed in search of his pants. They get dressed and he hurries them up to their rooftop. He rushes into the night and looks up at the dark sky, dotted with white as far as he can see. He's seen it in films and in paintings, but nothing compares to the real thing. He sticks out his tongue and feels ridiculously giddy when he catches a snowflake.

Louis is wearing that smile again when Harry faces him. “What do you think?” he asks.

“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life,” Harry says. “I know so.”

“Because of the snow?” Louis asks, his brows arched.

“Because of you,” Harry says. “And the snow. And London. And St Bart's. And anything that’s led me here.”

“True. We’re the happiest fuckers alive.”

Harry snorts. “And I've got a dirty mouth?”

“You love it and you’re no better,” Louis says. “Can we please go inside now, love?”

Harry sighs. “ Fine . But if there’s enough on the ground for a snowball fight tomorrow, that’s also on my list,” he says as they make their way back inside.

“What else is on this list anyway? Would’ve thought it’d be ‘marry Louis’ and done.”

“I want to travel to every country in the world. With you,” Harry says. “And have your children.”

Louis stops in the middle of the stairwell. “Sorry, what?”

Harry has less and less of his naive siren moments these days, but this feels like one of them. Maybe he should’ve asked Louis whether he wanted babies before assuming. “Do you not want children?”

“Sure I do, but saying it the way you did makes it sound like you can get pregnant, Harry.”

“Well, probably not. Only a few male sirens can and I’m technically not a siren anymore, but I figured we could try one day. ‘Cause why not?”

Louis just looks at him, both eyes like saucers. “Harry, I say this with complete love for you, but what the actual fuck?”

Harry sets his hands on Louis’ shoulders. “Is this really any more surprising than me having a tail?”

Louis gives this a moment of deep, lengthy thought. Then emits a breathy laugh that Harry echoes.

“Well—“ Louis turns and takes the next step towards home. “Suppose not.”

♆

fin.

(pun intended)