Hello! I haven't posted anything on here for at least five years, but I'm hoping this will count for motivation towards finishing this story. As such, in good nature, this has been cross-posted on Ao3 under the same name. I will upload chapters weekly until we're in sync with the story over there, and then I will begin to begin updating again somewhat bi-monthly.
That out of the way, please enjoy!
Alternate World, Son Lux:
We'll shed our skin, we'll walk the other side. Oh-oh we'll brace for it, and conquer everything.
He can't really say how he got into this situation, mostly because he doesn't remember. He only knows that one moment he was waving at Allura as she left, definitely not staring at her backside because that's plain rude, and the next he looked to the other side and back and he was over one hundred metres away from the shore, drifting. This is his position at the moment- sitting on his board, the setting sun behind him, and his eyes closed, trying not to rage out in frustration.
Ah, shit.
He looks down to start swimming back, but then he sees something, and he definitely Does Not yell. Instead, he quickly pulls his arms and legs up onto his board in case it is a shark and is here to eat him, because he is a quick-witted thinker, yes he is. And he is- well, scared. Just a little bit.
Hear him out, okay? He's fucking entitled to his fear. It's getting late, he's lost, he's alone, and he can just see the shadow of whatever it may be underneath him. Of course he's fucking scared.
He curls into himself and tries not to be obvious about it, anyways. It's just chilly, he tells himself.
He looks down again, because he's morbid like that, and then- shit. He yelps and scoots back but there is nothing- his board is narrow and so he falls into the waters and the jaws of whatever is waiting to eat him. He has a moment where he forgets everything but the cold, cold water that surrounds him, and the gravity that tries to fill his mouth with water, and his arms flail with exertion and panic; he can't call for help, and he can't fucking do anything, because the water is dragging its fingers along his ankles and calves and he's about to die, he's about to die and his abuela is going to kill him.
He stops flailing, then, and resigns himself to have his last moments in the solitude of the ocean, but then he's… floating. And his first though is, of course, he can swim. But no. Swimming isn't being dragged to the (embarrassingly close) surface by a pair of arms, strong and calm and colder than the water; he takes a few deep breaths and ravels in the feeling of oxygen in his lungs for a second before he finally opens his eyes and tries to assess his situation.
He lets his vision adjust to the darkening sky and sees- yep, that same pair of creepy-ass eyes from before that stare at him like he were... chum? No. More like a weird piece of tin floating around? Which is, wow, rude. He is at least plastic. Not tin.
Not the best moment, he tells himself.
Right. Focus. He's still about to die. He can't be thinking these kinds of things in his final moments because how ridiculous would that be? Plus, he would be letting Pidge have the last word on how his vanity will lead to his ultimate death, and he cannot allow that.
He's still paralysed in terror from the idea of what it may be; He watches it advance, navy eyes glowing with the ocean around them. He's just thinking, shit, shit, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna fucking die, and nothing else- which really does not help his current state of mind, but well-, and when the thing comes to a stop right beneath Lance's chin, he honest-to-god whimpers.
Not his proudest moment, he admits.
The creature bobs up and down and doesn't move, and Lance is going blue because he's holding his breath. He stares into its eyes for a while, marvelling at the queer beauty of the moonlight reflecting off its irises, but then he yelps when he feels something scale-y and slime-y brush his feet and the eyes move closer.
Shit it's coming up, it's going to eat me, shit, fucking shit.
It has long hair and pale skin that shimmers as he moves, and it looks like-
Hold up.
What?
A boy. It looks like a boy. With gills on the side of its (his?) neck, but a boy.
Lance screams.
The thing, consequently, screams as well.
It is a horrible, screeching sound that sounds like nails on a chalkboard, and Lance brings his hands up to his ears to shield from it because wow, his ears are gonna bleed otherwise.
It swims backwards and slams into his board, and then it yelps again, making Lance want to push away and as far as he can but he's actually really, really scared, and so he just digs through his shock and says, "What the fuck?"
The thing turns its head at the sound of his voice. "Huh?"
Lance blanches. He wants to run away but he can't because it is right beside his board and he doesn't know where he is, and the inky blackness of the ocean around him is, quite honestly, terrifying.
"What the- shit are you?"
Shit. That is all he can think of, apparently. If he's honest, it's probably his favourite word at the moment.
Focus!
It clicks. Lance feels the Something against his feet again and he wants to cry, just a little.
"Do you- do you talk?"
The thing eyes him curiously, and clicks again.
Lance is two seconds away from losing his shit. And his lunch.
"Could you, uh, could you move? Please?"
The thing clicks again. It doesn't move, though, and Lance has absolutely no idea of what to do.
He reaches out an arm and carefully pushes the thing to the side, trying not to think too much about the feeling of soft skin and bumpy scars. It thankfully, thankfully goes willingly- and whatever else there may be brushes against his feet again.
Lance is really getting tired of this shit.
He looks down and sees… a tail. And he follows it up, up, up, until he meets the Thing's eyes and splashes away with yet another manly yelp, making the Thing give him a look that clearly says, "Getting tired of your bullshit, Human."
But. A mermaid.
He is being hunted (?) by a mermaid.
What even is his life?
Lance is breathing heavy, now, and he has no idea of what is going to happen next, but he ever so slowly makes his way forward and then latches onto his board as quickly as he can, all this while the mermaid (merman?) stares at him curiously, its eyes the only thing that are visible now- between his black, black hair and the rest of the ocean around them, now calm and dark, it's eerie. Like, really eerie.
Lance looks away, even if he doesn't want to. He gets on his board and tries to look around, find his way, and he sees the glow of a city far away.
He feels the knot in his chest loosen a little. He takes a deep breath and thinks of Hunk and Pidge and Shiro, who are probably waiting for him with towels and warm soup. He breathes out in a sigh, something like calm beginning to make its trek from the pit of his stomach and into his fingers and toes.
He looks back towards the merperson, ready to take farewell, but he doesn't see anything there- not a ripple, not a whisper, not a click. Just- darkness.
Lance doesn't give it much thought. It's quite relieving, really.
He tries not to, on his way back- instead he tries to distract himself, wondering if anyone saw him flailing and refused to help, thinking of how weird it is that he has no idea of how he wandered out so far.
He frowns. He doesn't know how long it was, but given by the brightness of stars overhead, he guesses that it was probably longer than he'd like.
When he gets to shore, he looks back into the endless waters and thinks of his wrinkly fingers and cold toes, sees a shimmering red over the moonlight that reflects to his left, and then-
"Lance!"
He turns, and all he just lived becomes imaginary when he looks at Pidge and Shiro coming over to him, eyes crinkled and worried, hands interwoven.
"Where were you, dude?"
He looks at Pidge. "What'dya mean? I out was surfing. I told you."
"Yeah, but at ten p.m.?" Pidge makes a face. "You're crazy, man."
Shiro touches Lance's arm with his cold, metal hand, and a look of concern on his face. "Come on, Lance," he says. "It's freezing out here. I think Hunk is making some tea for you."
He nods. They make to leave and after a second he joins them, too. He listens to Pidge chatter about the new recipe Hunk cooked up with some local fish, and about their plans for a new piece of technology, and he feels his toes start to warm a little bit.
Lance spares one more glance at the ocean, and it is not the breeze makes him shiver.
