Pet Shop Boys
Edward POV
"Stupid filter," I muttered to myself. Over time you get used to the noises in your bedroom, including the noise that the filter made. One small change in that noise and it would have you up through the night.
Taking the sponge out of the filter, I washed it in some old tank water in some vain hope to unclog the thing. Slotting it back into place, I grumbled when it still didn't sound right.
A filter is vital, especially in a fifty gallon tank that housed over fifteen occupants. It might not seem a lot of fish, but I liked them to have space. Think of it like this, you'd feel squished if you and fourteen others were crammed into one room. You'd eventually upset your neighbour no doubt. And top that off with filthy living conditions. Not ideal.
My main fish, my pride and joy might I add, was a foot and half long torpedo barb that I named Paparazzi. Whenever it was feeding time I would feed them a mixture of blood worms and flake food, and no matter how much I put in, she would at least get half of it. The next two fish that I fell in love with, was two angel fish that I named Alejandro and Paper Gangsta. The other fish were merely for decoration.
Yeah, I'm a massive Lady Gaga fan-sue me.
"Look guys, you're going to have to swim around in your own poop for a while until I get a new filter for you."
Paparazzi looked at me, and I could have sworn she nodded. The fish are getting to me…
Knowing I wouldn't be able to drift back off, I lazily made my way through the kitchen. Flicking through the letters that had built up over the past few days, I looked for the leaflet that ad the opening times for the new fish shop down the road. No, I don't mean the chippie, the ones that you eat. I mean real fish shop, one that sells live fish.
The shop or 'Fish R Us' as it was appropriately named, had opened last week and I had still to check it out. I was funny when it came to my fish; I liked to look around the store to make sure they were all healthy before purchasing one. I was strange that way. But if they looked healthy in the shop, then they would be healthy when I brought them home.
Eventually I found the leaflet, opening it up; I looked for the opening times. '9-5 all days but Sunday', was all it said. Glancing up at the clock, I was glad to see that it was eight thirty. It would give me enough time to get ready and be out of the day.
Twenty five minutes later I emerged from the house, grinning like a Cheshire cat. Like every other morning, I had had to wrestle with Paparazzi to make sure the other fish actually got something to eat. Normally I had to take my top off just so I wouldn't risk it get wet. Sometimes she thrashed about that much that she nearly pulled you into the tank with her.
Seeing as though it was only up the street, I saw no reason to take the car. Hopefully the fresh air would help clear my mind. Hopefully stop me worrying about the fish having snuffed it because of breathing in their own shit.
Your probably wondering why I didn't just swear to the fish and not say 'poop' like a two year old. I like to treat them like humans; I wouldn't just go up and swear at a random stranger so I don't to them.
Ten minutes later, I stood in front of the shop that looked more of a mafia hang out place then a fish shop. The exterior was all black-except for the sign-and the paint was peeling in some places. The sign was not better. It looked hand painted and the letters were slightly crocked and squint.
Immediately I had my doubts. If it looked like this on the outside, what would it look like on the inside? Would all the fish be dead?
Taking a deep breath, I pushed all my thoughts to one side. It could only get better.
Opening the door, I was immediately hit with the smell of stale beer and cigarettes. Frowning to myself, I pushed through another black door.
Through here it was totally different. The place was vibrant and happy, teeming with life. Just right of the door, was the till and a few stacks of fish books. On the desk sat a small marine tank that held some soft corals and a few clownfish.
I'd keep a marine tank if I could, but they were too expensive and hard to keep. Instead I stuck to the tropical side of things.
The shop was split into two halves, marine and tropical. On both sides thirty centimetre square tanks lined the sides in rows of threes. Only the tropical tanks had gravel bottoms; whereas the marine tanks were bare bottomed.
In here it smelt of running water-obviously-, coffee, fishy and a hint of stale beer.
Instead of standing there like an idiot, I walked slowly around the store. Splitting the shop down the middle was a large shelving rack that held everything from small tanks to fish food.
Intrigued, I forgot about the new filter for a second, and wondered over to the marine fish. When I walked over they rushed to the surface, their mouths opening and closing.
In one tank there were ten small fish, all either red or a light baby blue. If I stared at them too long I found myself going dizzy. Located on the top left hand corner of every tank were the names of the fish in the tank. Half of them I wasn't even going to attempt.
Sighing to myself, I went back to where I belonged. The tropical side of things. As nice as tropics were, they were nothing compared to marine fish.
At first I was disappointed as I saw rows of tanks that held your average Guppies, Sword Tails and Mollies. But the further along I got, the more exquisite the fish got. In one tank there was even a Black Piranha, something I knew was band in other states.
Too engrossed with the fish in front of me, I didn't hear the person come up behind me.
"Can I help you with anything?" he asked; his voice polite. Whirling around, I crashed into his chest not expecting him to be that close. "Whoa there, hold your horses," he joked. "I know I'm good looking but that's no excuse."
Straight away I blushed. No doubt this man already knew of my sexual preferences, everybody on the street did. The first thing they ever told someone new who moved here-especially male-was of the guy that lived down the road. They even went as far as to tell them what exact number my house was. Talk about stalkers…It was like they watched you sleep they knew that much about me…
"Sorry," I said, ducking my head slightly. Yeah, everybody knew what I was as well. A bottom, no doubt this new guy knew that too.
He steadied me and his arms seemed to stay wrapped around me longer than what was just necessary. Or was that just me being wishful? Small town, Forks, how many gay, top men do you think wonder in through here, never mind stop and stay.
He laughed and I couldn't help but glance up. I couldn't help but stare. A head of thick short curls fell in the way of his large chocolate brown eyes. Stubble adorned his chin, but I liked it that way. It gave him that rugged hiker type look. Large muscular were wrapped around his stomach as he rocked slightly with his laughter.
"Look, it's alright," he managed to say once he had calmed down. "I ran into you too. You're Edward, right?" Great, he did know everything about me.
"Yeah, but if you're just going to make stupid jokes then I'll leave."
He looked taken back and he raised his hands and smiled, "hold your horses." He repeated. "I never said anything did I? Well, do you need any help?"
Glancing at his shirt to look for some sort of name tag, my eyes roamed over his tight fitting shirt. "What's your name?" I asked when I became aware that I was staring way too much.
"McCarty, Emmett McCarty." Grasping his outstretched hand, my breath hitched when current crackled between us.
Looking back up at him nervously, I watched his face to see if he had felt it. He had. Emmett's (God it felt nice to think his name) face was flowered with shock. At first I got ready to pull my hand back, rejection ready to take its place. When his face didn't change, I looked deeper into his eyes and found that he looked pleased, almost happy. Wait, pleased? Happy? Surely a guy that looked like this was straight, he had to be.
For a long moment we stood there, holing each other's hand. Luckily no one else was in the shop. I revelled in the feel of his touch, and for the first time in my life I felt home. It felt right.
"Err, what do you need?" He asked, releasing my hand slowly, reluctantly.
"H-have you," I cleared the huskiness from my voice and I saw him smirk slightly. "Have you got any filters for a fifty gallon tropical tank?"
"Yeah, just follow me." Teasingly he walked in front of me, giving me a full shot of his ass. And it got better. To reach the right filter, he had to stretch to reach the top shelf. As he stretched, his shirt rode up slightly, showing the tops of his jeans that rode low on his hips. To my shock, I saw no top of underwear. Was he going commando..?
Shrugging off the thought before I could get all hot and bothered, I waited for him to fish down the filter.
When he brought it down, I was disappointed to find out that that was our time up. Though I could always buy a fish and stay that bit longer, I mused to myself. No, the tank was full enough.
"So, you keep tropics?" He asked though he already knew the answer.
"Yeah, I'm strictly minor league." We both laughed at my lame baseball joke that wasn't even a joke.
"Me too," Emmett must have seen my confusion for he elaborated. "My step brother Jasper looks after the marines."
Nodding my head, I noticed a small coffee machine sat on the counter. Following my gaze Emmett smiled slightly, his eyes alight with hope. "You want a cuppa?"
"Wouldn't mind one."
Putting the coffee machine on, he brought two small stools out from behind the till.
"What's in your tank then?" At first I thought it was just chit chat, but he actually looked eager to find out.
"Well I have Paparazzi, a Torpedo Barb. Paper Gangsta and Alejandro my two Angels. Then there's Joey, Chandler and Ross, the three clown loach-"
Emmett interrupted me, his face a mas of shock, "you can keep them? Clown loach? I got some a few weeks back and they all died of ich within a fortnight."
"If that happens don't bother with the ich stuff you add to the water, just do half a tank water changes every day, scold all ornaments and vacuum the gravel. I find it works." Quickly I shrugged to make it no big deal.
"Any more fish?"
"A giant Pleco called Speechless, and then the rest are just sword tails."
Emmett made a face that clearly told me I should be in a loony bin, "You name all your fish?"
"Just the ones I like best."
Luckily then the coffee machine finished so it spared me any more questions to do with the names of my fish.
When Emmett came back with the coffees, we lapsed into a comfortable silence. Every now and again I could feel his eyes on me over the rim of his cup. Shifting in my seat, I tried to avoid his gaze. Finally he sighed and broke the silence.
"Look Edward," again he sighed. "I don't know whether you feel the same way, but I like you. There I said it." He grinned like he had just overcome some amazing milestone.
Confused, I asked, "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I normally fuck things up, I try to be romantic and somehow I come across as a jerk…" Halfway through I became aware he was rambling so I tuned out. "Decided to just come out with it."
Nodding my head slightly, I waited for him to continue.
"So, yeah. I like you Edward, more than what I should. Just so you don't get confused or think this is some sort of joke, it isn't. I'm in the same boat as you; just the top of the boat is all."
Even though he didn't laugh, I found myself laughing over the entire thing. Eventually he joined in too.
"I haven't freaked you out have I?" Emmett wondered out aloud.
"No don't worry, I like you too. Perhaps more than I should…"
AN! Hope you like it, the idea came to me when I was setting up my own fish tank! Tell me if you want me to continue. Don't worry if you don't know what the fish look like, I'll have the links on my profile page. So, continue, leave, delete? x