Chapter Text
The storm had long passed. The skies were clear now, deceptively calm, the sea pretending it hadn’t swallowed either of them.
Deo sat alone in the spare room, paintbrush gripped tight in his hand, knuckles pale. The canvas in front of him was already stained with too much black. He hadn’t spoken much since they returned. Tommy had slept for almost two days. And when he’d finally stirred, his first question was what year it was.
He didn’t remember. Not the storm. Not the knife. Not the fight. Not the blood.
Deo wished he didn’t either.
He dragged the brush in jagged lines across the canvas. Tommy’s figure had formed without him meaning to. Hair plastered to his face with seawater. Eyes dark and unfamiliar. Mouth open, fangs catching the moonlight. And in his ribs — two red marks, one of them Deo’s own doing.
It wasn’t stylized. It wasn’t abstract. It was a memory carved from guilt.
A night he couldn’t forget.
He kept painting. His hands were shaking now, and he was barely breathing. The background warped into crashing waves and thunderclouds. The boat slanted sideways, just like it had when he’d nearly—
Deo dropped the brush.
He backed away from the canvas like it might lunge at him. He could still hear the wind howling. Still feel the weight of the knife in his palm. Still remember Tommy gasping for air after being dragged from the water — human again, fragile, and too trusting.
He sank into the chair, arms around himself, staring at the figure on the canvas.
Tommy had hugged him this morning. Said it was “good to be alive.”
Deo hadn’t replied.
Tommy was still asleep. He hadn’t moved from the couch since the last time he whispered something in his sleep — a name, maybe. One Deo didn’t recognize.
The painting still sat in the other room, turned to the wall.
Deo couldn’t look at it again.
His fingers hovered over the trackpad of his laptop, one tab still open from last night — Greek Mythology: Sirens. He’d fallen into a rabbit hole after his panic wouldn’t let him sleep.
It had started out of curiosity. But it spiraled fast.
“Sirens fail to lure their victims only once.” “In Homer’s Odyssey, the sirens die when Odysseus resists their call.” “A siren lives to lure. To fail is to die slowly. Forgotten by the sea.”
Deo stared at the screen, heart in his throat.
That couldn’t be right.
He thought about Tommy — pale, exhausted, slipping deeper into confusion. The way his voice cracked every time he forgot a name. The dark circles under his eyes. The blood that wasn’t red. The storm. The collapse.
And the worst part?
Tommy hadn’t tried to lure him. Not that night.
He failed. And if the myths were true, that meant…
Deo shut the laptop with trembling hands.
Was it his fault?
Was this happening because he didn’t give in? Because he brought the knife? Because he didn’t listen?
Tommy stirred on the couch. Not fully awake, just a soft sound — a breathless sigh that almost sounded like “please.”
Deo looked over, eyes burning.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
Tommy didn’t respond.
The waves had calmed, but the clouds still hung heavy in the sky. The kind of grey that made the ocean look endless — a sheet of glass and shadow.
Deo sat at the edge of the rocks near his house, legs pulled close, the salt air sticking to his skin.
He hadn’t told Tommy he was leaving. He’d just walked. Past the neighborhood, past the dunes, barefoot and shivering, down to the sharp black rocks that jutted from the shore like the broken spine of something long dead.
The water below was still. But it was listening.
“I know you’re out there,” Deo muttered. “Whatever you are. Whatever made him like this.”
He wasn’t sure who he was talking to. The sea? The curse? The thing that had taken Tommy’s life and left this fragile echo behind?
He glanced down at the foamy shallows beneath the rock.
“Was it always supposed to end like this? He failed to eat me, so now what — he dies?” His voice cracked. “That’s not fair. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He didn’t—”
Deo stopped himself.
He had the journal in his bag. His father’s words. His paranoia. His obsession. The knife.
And yet, he had also seen Tommy cry. Bleed. Forget. Be afraid.
“He’s more human than half the people I know,” Deo whispered.
A gull shrieked overhead. The tide lapped hungrily at the edges of the rock.
“Tell me how to help him,” he said aloud now, to the sea, to whatever ancient force was listening. His voice rose. “You hear me?! I know you do. I know you took him from somewhere — from someone — made him into this. But he didn’t ask for this!”
No answer. Only waves.
Deo laughed bitterly. “Of course. No one ever answers. Just riddles and rot.”
He stood slowly, wind biting through his shirt, staring into the horizon.
“If I could take it from him, I would. If you want someone to drown—” he clenched his fists— “take me instead.”
The waves rolled forward suddenly — not enough to hit him, but enough to soak the rock.
A hush fell over the shore.
And then, deep in the water, something shimmered.
Not a figure. Not a voice. Just… a sound. A low hum.
Not Tommy’s.
But like him.
Older. Echoing. Full of sorrow.
Deo staggered back.
The sea had heard him.
—
Deo pushed the door open with damp fingers. His socks were soaked with sand and saltwater. His bag thudded to the floor as he stepped into the house, the silence thick and expectant. Every creak of the floorboard felt like it echoed through the air Tommy had breathed the night before.
He was ready for silence. Or worse — for Tommy to still be lifeless on the couch.
But instead—
“Deo!” came the sudden, chipper voice.
Deo flinched so hard he knocked into the doorframe.
Tommy was sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of the TV, his hair fluffy from towel-drying, wearing one of Deo’s old sweatshirts like it belonged to him. A Nintendo controller sat in his lap. His blue eyes sparkled with something dangerously close to joy.
“You said you’d play with me, remember?” Tommy tilted his head. “I set up Smash. I even picked your main.”
Deo blinked. “…What?”
Tommy patted the floor beside him like this was any normal Tuesday. Like he hadn’t nearly drowned the night before. Like he hadn’t tried to eat Deo. Like he hadn’t forgotten who he was just a few hours ago.
Deo slowly stepped inside. “You… you’re awake.”
“Yeah?” Tommy frowned, confused. “I’ve been up for like, thirty minutes. You were gone. Thought you were dodging me.”
Deo didn’t answer. He stared at the way Tommy’s hands moved — sure, steady. The way he smiled. The way he teased. Everything about him looked right. Looked alive.
“You hungry?” Tommy asked suddenly, peering up with a boyish grin. “I was gonna make ramen but I nearly burnt the water.”
He laughed.
Like this was normal.
Deo dropped into the armchair, throat tight. “You’re acting like nothing happened.”
Tommy blinked again. “Did something?”
And that — that — was the part that made Deo feel sick.
“Tommy,” he whispered, “do you remember the boat?”
Tommy’s fingers twitched on the controller. His eyes flicked away, like something fuzzy passed through his mind and vanished.
“I… I think I had a weird dream,” he mumbled. “But I don’t… remember. There was water, I think. Singing. Maybe dolphins? Or you were yelling? It’s gone now.”
He laughed awkwardly.
Deo didn’t laugh.
He stared.
And Tommy stared back, the controller slowly sliding out of his hands.
“What?” he whispered.
Deo couldn’t answer.
There was a storm behind Tommy’s smile. And it was still coming.
Tommy had insisted on Animal Crossing after Deo refused to play Smash — something about it being “less sweaty and more like therapy.” Deo hadn’t protested.
Now they sat side-by-side on the floor, both wrapped in the quiet glow of the TV, their characters wandering around a pixelated island.
Tommy giggled as he shoved his avatar into Deo’s
“You’re fishing in my pond again,” Deo murmured
“Your pond has the good fish,” Tommy said smugly. “You’re just mad I got the stringfish before you.”
Deo stared at the screen. His character moved aimlessly, shovel forgotten in hand.
Tommy looked… okay. Happy, even.
But the voice in Deo’s head whispered: he drowned last night. You tried to kill him. And now he’s asking you for fruit trades.
The weight of it pressed down on his chest like wet sand.
Tommy turned, nudging him lightly with a shoulder. “You good?”
Before Deo could answer, the overhead light flicked on with a loud click.
Both of them flinched.
His mother stood in the doorway, arms crossed, wearing her long robe and a look of disbelief.
“Seriously?” she said sharply. “It’s almost 2am. You have school tomorrow.”
Tommy immediately paused the game like a scolded kid.
“We’ll go to bed in a sec,” Deo said, clearing his throat.
“No,” his mother snapped. “Now.”
She marched over and — without warning — unplugged the Switch dock from the wall.
Tommy gasped like she’d just committed a federal crime. “Hey—!”
“Deo,” she said, holding the console under one arm. “You’re a senior. Start acting like one.”
Deo didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at the flickering screen that had gone dark, feeling reality rush back into the room like a cold tide.
Tommy looked up at her with wide, confused eyes. Not angry. Not siren-like.
Just… human.
She stared back for a moment too long. Like she wanted to say something else. Her fingers tightened around the plastic of the console. Then she turned and walked upstairs, muttering something under her breath.
Tommy sat in silence for a beat, then turned to Deo.
“…That was terrifying.”
Deo forced a laugh. “She’s scarier than you.”
“Rude,” Tommy muttered. He flopped back onto the floor and sighed dramatically. “School’s going to suck. Everyone’s going to smell like gym socks.”
Deo sat quietly beside him, staring at the blank TV screen. Tommy closed his eyes. The silence settled again.
But all Deo could hear was the ocean — crashing and roaring — somewhere in the back of his mind.
He whispered, “Tommy?”
“Mmm?”
“…Never mind.”
Tommy didn’t respond. He was already half-asleep.
And Deo just sat there, watching the boy who shouldn’t be alive at all.
—
It was pitch dark in Deo’s room when he felt something shaking his shoulder.
“Deo. Deoooo.”
He groaned, rolling over. “What.”
Tommy was crouched next to his bed, bright-eyed and whispering like a kid sneaking snacks. “Hey. Wake up. I had an idea.”
“No.” Deo buried his face in the pillow.
“C’mon, it’s important.”
“You said that last time, and it was about making all your villagers have siren tails.”
Tommy huffed, indignant. “It was a movement.”
Deo cracked one eye open, glaring. “What do you want?”
Tommy climbed into the bed beside him fully clothed — damp socks and all — and laid on his stomach, kicking his legs. “I was thinking. If I’m cursed, then maybe someone cursed me for a reason. Like, maybe I did something super evil and forgot it. Maybe I’m like—like that guy in that show, you know? The vampire one.”
“Tommy. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Exactly! Memory loss! Cursed immortality! It doesn’t make sense. And then I thought—what if I kept forgetting because someone wanted me to? Like your mum. What if she’s like a sea witch or something?”
Deo sat up. “What—no, what are you talking about?”
“I mean, she did steal the Switch. That’s evil.”
“Go to sleep.”
“Can’t. You’re awake now. So technically this is your fault.”
Before Deo could respond, the door creaked open again.
“Are you serious?” his mother’s voice came sharp from the hallway. “Again?”
Tommy immediately sat up and waved. “Hi.”
She stared at him, expression unreadable. Her hair was slightly messy, the bathrobe cinched tight. She didn’t say anything at first — just looked at Tommy for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then at Deo.
“Is this going to be every night now?”
Deo sighed. “He just—had a thought.”
She stepped into the room, arms crossed. Her eyes never left Tommy. “You’re not staying up all night again. Both of you — back to bed. Now.”
Tommy blinked, then nodded. “Yessir. Ma’am. Captain.”
Deo’s mum didn’t smile. She just stepped out of the room slowly, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.
Tommy laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
“…She hates me.”
“She doesn’t,” Deo mumbled, lying back down. “She’s just tired. Like I was. Before you started monologuing about curses and tails.”
Tommy grinned. “You like it.”
Deo didn’t answer.
In the silence, Tommy whispered, “Do you think I’ll ever remember everything? Like, really remember?”
Deo turned his head, watching him.
“…I hope so.”
—
The morning sun leaked through the blinds, striping the room in light and shadow. Deo sat on the edge of his bed, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when Tommy stepped out of the bathroom.
“…You’re already dressed?” Deo asked.
Tommy stood by the door, tugging awkwardly at the hem of his school blazer. “Yeah. Is that weird?”
“No,” Deo muttered. “Just… early. For you.”
Tommy blinked, clearly chewing over something, then smiled. “The uniform’s dry.”
Deo froze, halfway through tying his shoes. “What?”
Tommy gestured at himself like it was obvious. “It’s dry. It’s—this hasn’t happened in weeks. Every morning it’s damp, or like it’s just come out of the ocean. But today…” He tugged the fabric, holding it away from his body. “Warm. Like it came out of a drawer.”
He laughed, small and startled. “I forgot how this felt.”
Deo stared, still kneeling. The words didn’t want to form. He remembered wringing seawater out of Tommy’s clothes two days ago. He remembered Tommy curled up like driftwood on the couch. The storm. The fangs. The blood.
Now Tommy stood there, freshly dressed, hair brushed, school bag slung over one shoulder like a normal student.
Like a human.
—
The bus ride to school was unusually quiet, with Tommy humming under his breath beside Deo, staring out the window like the world was completely new. Deo couldn’t stop glancing at him — not nervously, but like he was waiting for the sea to leak through Tommy’s seams again.
But it didn’t.
When they got to school, Bitzel was already leaning against the lockers. He gave them both a short nod — too calm, too still — and then straightened up as they approached.
“Hey,” he said casually, falling into step with them. “You sleep okay, Tommy?”
Tommy blinked, walking between the two of them. “Uh. Yeah? Why?”
Bitzel shrugged. “Luke told me everything.”
Deo stiffened.
Tommy stopped walking.
“Everything?” Tommy asked carefully. “Like… what does that mean? Everything-everything or, like, metaphorical-everything, like how people say ‘I know everything’ when they actually just—”
“Sirens. Oceans. Black blood. The whole mess,” Bitzel said. “It’s not a big deal.”
Tommy squinted at him, confused. “What?”
“I mean, it’s weird,” Bitzel clarified, “but not a you problem. I figured if you were dangerous, you would’ve eaten Luke or me already, right?”
Tommy opened his mouth. Closed it again. “…Okay?”
Deo looked between them, stunned. “You’re just fine with it?”
“I mean, I’m not thrilled,” Bitzel said. “But Luke trusts you. And… honestly? You’ve been more anxious than predatory lately.” He glanced at Tommy. “You still you?”
“I think so,” Tommy said quietly. “Mostly. Depends on the weather, I guess.”
Bitzel laughed under his breath. “Fair enough.”
The bell rang, and the three of them started walking again. Tommy looked down at his sleeves.
Dry.
Still dry.
The warning bell had just finished echoing through the halls when a loud slam rattled the front doors of the school.
Luke burst into the corridor, practically flying toward the trio. His backpack was bouncing off one shoulder, his hair was sticking to his forehead with sweat, and he was gasping like he’d just sprinted through a warzone.
Deo turned first. “Luke—?”
“I—” Luke bent over, hands on his knees. “Ran. All the way. From home.”
Tommy blinked once, then burst out laughing. “You what?”
Luke wheezed. “I missed—the stupid—bus—”
Tommy tilted his head with faux concern. “Oh nooo, did the little Victorian orphan miss his horse-drawn carriage?”
Luke pointed at him, half-collapsing against the locker next to Bitzel. “I swear to God, if I pass out, it’s your fault.”
“No, no, I want this on record,” Tommy said, grinning. “Luke ‘Strongest Morals’ whatever-your-last-name-is just jogged through traffic and morning fog to get here on time for Chemistry. That’s commitment. That’s tragic.”
Deo bit back a smile. “You okay though?”
“I’m fine,” Luke muttered, wiping his face on his sleeve. “My lungs are just screaming.”
Tommy snorted. “They’re screaming because you made them do cardio without warning. You abused them.”
Bitzel finally spoke, calm as ever. “You want my water bottle?”
Luke nodded gratefully, taking it. “You’re the only nice one here. I’m telling my therapist.”
Tommy fake-gasped. “You have a therapist? How dare you go to someone else with your trauma.”
Deo raised an eyebrow. “That’s rich coming from you.”
Tommy just shrugged, grin wide and sharp. “Fair.”
As the four of them made their way down the hallway toward first period, the earlier laughter faded into a more curious, watchful silence. Luke glanced at Bitzel once, then slowed his pace until he was walking beside Tommy.
“Hey,” he said low enough that only Tommy could hear, “you remember what I asked before? About… the siren thing?”
Tommy blinked, the grin slipping off his face like it had never been there.
The world warped for a split second. The hallway lights flickered. The floor beneath him suddenly felt wet. Cold. Like the slats of an old boat, rotting and splintering under his knees. Someone was yelling—maybe his name—but it was muffled, like he was underwater again.
There was fire in his lungs.
And a sharp voice: “You were supposed to die!”
Tommy stumbled.
Luke grabbed his arm, steadying him. “Whoa. Hey—Tommy?”
Deo turned instantly, eyes wide. “What happened?”
Tommy stared down at his shoes, which were dry—dry for once, not soaked in ocean brine like he was used to. But he still smelled it. The salt. The blood.
“I…” His voice cracked.
Luke looked more worried than startled. “Was that a flashback?”
Tommy nodded slowly, as if the movement cost him energy. “I think… I think I remember the first time I woke up like that. As a siren.”
Bitzel frowned, finally catching up. “Like, when you became one?”
Tommy’s gaze lifted, distant. “It was… dark. I drowned. That much I knew. But then I wasn’t dead. I was just—awake, on some rocky shore. Cold. Alone. My arms were bleeding. I had… these marks. Like ropes. Like someone tried to hold me down.”
He swallowed. “I remember… screaming underwater. Not even with my mouth. Just screaming with everything.”
Deo looked like he couldn’t breathe.
Luke stepped back, giving him space.
“I didn’t know I’d changed until I saw myself in the water,” Tommy said. “The eyes… the teeth… They weren’t mine. It didn’t feel like me.”
The bell rang, sharp and sudden.
But none of them moved.
Tommy’s voice was nearly a whisper: “I don’t know who did that to me. I don’t know why I survived.”
Deo reached out instinctively, but stopped himself. His hand hovered for a moment, then dropped.
“Come on,” Luke said softly, nodding toward the class door. “We’ll figure it out. You’re not alone anymore. Also we should hang out tonight”
Tommy didn’t smile.
But he nodded.
—
The afternoon sun draped the shoreline in gold, waves lapping lazily at their feet as the four of them wandered past old driftwood and washed-up seaweed. Bitzel had already kicked off his shoes and was skipping stones near a tide pool, while Deo trailed behind, hands in his pockets and eyes darting between Tommy and the ocean every few seconds.
Tommy tugged his sleeves down over his hands, eyeing the tide nervously.
“This part still gives me the creeps,” he muttered.
Luke grinned as he caught up beside him. “What? Scared of a little water, fishboy?”
Tommy shot him a glare. “Say that again and I’ll drag you under.”
Luke bumped his shoulder against Tommy’s, smirking. “You’d have to catch me first.”
“Oh, you think I can’t?”
Without warning, Tommy lunged forward and shoved Luke squarely in the chest. Luke yelped as he stumbled backward into the shallow surf, splashing wildly and flailing to stay upright.
“Oi!” Luke gasped, soaking wet. “You menace!”
“You provoked me!” Tommy cackled, doubling over in laughter.
Luke scrambled to his feet, eyes narrowing with gleeful vengeance. “You’re so dead.”
Tommy squealed and bolted down the shoreline, Luke sprinting after him. Bitzel glanced up from the tide pool and sighed, “And there they go…”
Deo stood beside him, arms crossed but faintly smiling. “They’re gonna slip and break their faces.”
“They deserve it,” Bitzel replied flatly, tossing another stone.
Just ahead, Luke caught Tommy and tackled him into the sand with a victorious whoop. The two rolled down a slight slope and landed with a splash in a shallow tide pool. Luke climbed on top, triumphant.
“Admit I’m stronger.”
Tommy, laughing breathlessly, flung a handful of seaweed into Luke’s face. “Never!”
Bitzel and Deo finally wandered over, Bitzel shaking his head with mild disapproval, and Deo crouched beside the pool. “You’re both soaked.”
“His fault,” Tommy and Luke chorused at the same time.
Deo snorted. “You’re like sea dogs.”
Tommy flicked some water at him and Luke added, “We’re bonding.”
Deo raised a brow at Tommy, quietly noting how—despite the wet clothes and wild grin—he didn’t look haunted anymore. Not right now. Just human. Just… happy.
“Fine,” Deo said. “But you’re not dripping all over my floors when we get home.”
“No promises!” Tommy grinned.
They were still on the shore, clothes half-dried and cheeks sore from laughing. Bitzel was combing through shells, Deo sat watching the waves with crossed arms, and Luke was back to poking Tommy with a stick.
“You’re not funny,” Tommy said, smacking it away.
“You said you had a tail,” Luke insisted.
Tommy rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t mean I’m about to whip it out in broad daylight.”
Luke tilted his head, grin widening like a kid pushing buttons he shouldn’t. “You sure you’re not just making it up?”
“I almost ate you, Luke,” Tommy muttered, standing and brushing sand off his knees. “What part of that makes you think I’d lie?”
“Then prove it.”
“Come on, just show us the tail already,” Luke said, arms crossed and squinting at Tommy like he was about to call bullshit.
Tommy, standing ankle-deep in the ocean with his sleeves rolled up, narrowed his eyes. “You’re obsessed. This is starting to get weird.”
Bitzel chuckled from his spot on a towel. “He’s been like this all morning.”
“I’m just saying,” Luke grinned, already stepping closer. “If you really had a tail, this would be the perfect place to—”
Before Tommy could react, Luke charged.
“LUKE, I SWEAR TO GOD—!”
Tommy barely got the words out before Luke tackled him from behind, splashing both of them straight into the water. Tommy flailed dramatically, grabbing at Luke’s shirt as he went down with a screech.
“STOP—YOU LITTLE—!”
They both went under for half a second, and when they popped up again, Luke was howling with laughter while Tommy sputtered and smacked at him.
“You think it’s out yet?” Luke teased. “Do I get to see it now? Mermaid mode? Fish boy? Hello?”
“I’m going to drown you for real,” Tommy coughed, flipping his soaked hair out of his face. “No jury would convict me.”
Deo walked over with a towel and an unimpressed look. “He’s not gonna grow a tail just because you gave him a bath, idiot.”
“Maybe it’s a saltwater trigger!” Luke said brightly.
“I hate you,” Tommy hissed, slapping water toward him.
Bitzel finally called from the beach, “If he does grow a tail, I’m not explaining it to the police!”
Luke grinned, trying to dodge the revenge splash. “Worth it.”
Tommy tackled him again, both of them collapsing in the shallows like chaotic sea creatures while Deo stood nearby, towel in hand and head in palm.
Despite the nonsense, there was something warm and weirdly comforting in the way they laughed. For the first time in a while, Tommy didn’t feel ancient or haunted or cursed—just… like a guy at the beach with his friends.
Even if one of them kept trying to drown him “for science.”
“I told you to stop pushing me,” Tommy grumbled, dripping wet and sulking in knee-deep water.
Luke grinned, lounging on a rock like a smug cat. “So what, you gonna scare me with your little—?”
A ripple rolled through the shallows. Then another. Tommy muttered something under his breath, shot Luke a glare, and slowly let himself fall backward into the deeper bit of the tidepool.
The water shimmered around him—then, suddenly, there it was.
A deep, vibrant red tail, sleek and gleaming under the sun, smacked the surface with a splash before curling behind him. It was almost like a flame had been carved into a fin, glinting with layered scarlet and black.
Luke’s jaw dropped. “No way.”
Deo stood stunned for a beat, then started wheezing. “You’re a goldfish!”
Tommy’s eyes shot to him. “Excuse me—?!”
“You look like a pissed-off koi,” Deo laughed, already tugging his sketchpad out of his bag. “Hold still—no, pout harder—yeah, just like that. Perfect.”
“Don’t you dare draw me—”
“I’m already halfway through.”
Tommy’s glare could’ve melted steel. His arms crossed over his soaked shirt while his long red tail flicked sharply behind him, water droplets catching the light like glitter. Bitzel leaned over to look at the sketch and snorted.
“Oh my god,” he gasped. “He does look like a goldfish.”
“Stop saying that!”
Luke was nearly crying from laughter. “You look like the angriest aquarium decoration I’ve ever seen.”
Tommy gritted his teeth and smacked his tail against the water, drenching all three of them with a single, violent splash. “I hate this friend group!”
Deo didn’t even flinch, smiling as he kept drawing. “Keep hating us, koi-boy. Just don’t splash the sketchbook.”
Tommy slumped lower in the water, tail flicking lazily now, cheeks flushed bright pink. “Next time I go full siren, I’m starting with you.”
Bitzel gave him a thumbs-up. “Make sure the tail’s in frame.”
That afternoon on the shore felt like the first real breath after drowning. The air buzzed with laughter, salt clung to their skin, and for once, Tommy didn’t feel like a monster—just a weird, soaked teenager with a red tail and too many loud friends. Deo’s sketchbook was half-full with messy doodles of fish-Tommy and all their chaotic grins, Bitzel’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and Luke couldn’t stop splashing everyone like an overgrown kid. It wasn’t perfect, but it was safe, and strange, and theirs.
And for a while, that was more than enough.