The water roiled in the wake of the storm, curious children prodding and poking at splintered planks of wood and coils of rope embedded deep into the seabed, pulled away and scolded by irate, fearing mothers. Blaine swam among them, dashing through crowds appearing from shelter with sinuous flicks of his tail, slicing through the water, away from the shore and back to the sea, back to sanity.

He couldn't help but remember the oceans of those eyes. Green like seaweed, blue like the water on a calm day, grey like rain lashing the surface of the waves, mingled around the windows to a soul that seemed pure and untarnished. The human hadn't tried to kill or capture him, strip his tail of its glittering scales or imprison him in a tank of poisonous water. The human had rescued him, torn apart the thick weaves of that net and sent him back into the realm of the ocean, back to his home where he was familiar with the currents and the whirlpools.

He couldn't stop thinking of those ocean eyes, of hands cool like the soothing balm of rolling waves brushing against his skin, of pale skin like moonlight rippling on the glassy surface of the water. The human hadn't been vicious or angry. He had been careful, loosening to knots and setting him free, possibly letting him escape from someone who would be far crueller if they found him.

The thought of the mysterious human kept him distracted, his thoughts drifting like seaweed when he should be thinking of others around him and of the work he had to do to play his part in the functioning of the kingdom. He thought of seeing those lips in a smile, of those hands on his skin again, of those eyes on his, things he shouldn't be thinking of.

Humans and merpeople were never made to coexist. They were created together, to hate and fear each other. He was never supposed to meet one, much less think of them with roving hands and soft lips and tender eyes.

He couldn't help himself, and returned to the shore in the dead of night, creeping through the dim, gently shifting waters to a moonlit shore, the sand white in the silvery beams, the waves lapping gently around him. He heard soft noises, like music, but unfamiliar, not a language he knew. The language of the humans, spoken quietly and lyrically.

He swam slowly closer to the shore, beating his tail in small flicks to avoid making any noise, not even the tiniest splash to alert the silhouette of a human to his presence. He saw the same human, the ocean-eyed man, sitting on the sand, looking up at the moon with a certain wistfulness in his gaze.

His hand lay close to the ocean, the occasional wave lapping over his skin. Blaine swam close and reached out his own hand. The brush of their fingertips together sent a feeling like lightning shooting through him. The human's head turned to him, and his eyes widened. But when he came closer, Blaine flipped backwards and beneath the waves, watching the silhouette of him standing at the shoreline and the moonlight dapple over the water.

Blaine returned to the shore each night, when the soft glow of the moonbeams slanted down into the depths, dyeing the pinnacles of the castle pale silver and his people retreated to their homes, settling among the softest seaweed to spend the night wrapped in dreams and the gentle back and forth swell of the ocean. And each night he hoped to see the mysterious glowing human, thinking over and over of the brief touch of their fingertips that still sent lightning arcing through his bodies, crackling hot beneath his skin.

But every rise of the moon, her baleful face surrounded by a delicate shroud of pale grey cloud, disappointed him with the curve of the beach, waves splashing over the moonlit sand and no sign of the beautiful man he longed to see again. It was some foreign longing, clutching at his heart with hands cold as the blackest depths of the ocean and keeping him miserable and betrayed no matter how bright sunlight played across the water or how young dolphins chattered and swam around him, trying to cheer his doleful spirits.

It took fifteen nights of returning to the surface before he found hope in the soft sound of wet sand beneath a great weight. He crept close to the shoreline, keeping behind one of the large rocks marking the end of the beach and the start of the ocean and watching the man he had looked so fervently for.

The man's head suddenly snapped up, eyes gleaming in the moonlight, and he ran to where Blaine hid. Blaine was backing away quickly, ready to flip beneath the waves and hide, when the man's lips began moving, his hands reaching out for Blaine. The sounds leaving his mouth were a language Blaine didn't understand, but spoken so melodically and sweetly he was transfixed by the simple smooth sounds of the language, the movement of the man's sweetly pink lips.

He shook his head gently, and the man's face fell. Blaine tried to ask him his name, find out more about the pale skin and ocean eyes that had captivated him from the very first moment, but the man's eyes widened in shock or fear and he shook his head too. Blaine couldn't help the hopelessness curling in the pit of his stomach that they couldn't even communicate, even share the joy of their separated lives.

But the handsome man just touched him, his cool fingers in Blaine's hair, trailing over his damp skin and tracing over the shining scales of his tail, and Blaine closed his eyes and let the touch seep down to his very soul, spreading warm and comforting from his heart all around his body, a smile coming over his face returned by the beautiful man.

He knew then, in that moment of moonshine, that he had to find a way to join the realm of the humans. His very being ached with longing to speak with this man, to know him, to be surrounded by him as he had heard the soft whispers of by those married in the kingdom fathoms below. He had to find a way to understand the music of his language and to walk with him on sun-dappled sand.