Written for Day 11 of AU Yeah August: Mermaid
(Uploaded a week later)
I don't usually write in first person point of view, but something about this story demanded to be written that way.
Riptide
For as long as I could remember, I'd always been drawn to the water. I felt a magnetic pull as heaven and earth drove me toward those shadowy depths. It was unconventional and more than a bit troubling, but I adored the water so much that it hurt sometimes.
At six years of age, I decided that if I absolutely had to die someday I wanted to drown. It was a bit morbid for a child to think such thoughts.
I was wise enough to keep my mouth closed around my father, but I told my mother everything. She listened to my theories about sea life with a proud smile, glad that I'd taken an interest in science at such a young age.
Every time I spoke about the ocean, her lips turned up in a wistful smile. She brought home piles upon piles of textbooks about marine life for me, and encouraged my learning with zeal. When I recited my findings back to her, Mother smiled even as a profound sadness pooled in her green eyes.
It was almost as if she knew exactly what I meant when I tried to describe the way the water gripped my heart.
Even though she acted as if she understood, she never so much as took me to a public pool. I stole glances at the water's edge from afar, filled with such a longing that it put an ache in my chest.
…
I stood on a bridge overlooking the Seine and watched the sun set in the rippling reflection of the river. My mother disappeared without a trace exactly one year ago, and I couldn't stand to be trapped in that house on such a somber anniversary.
A perfume ad shone on a billboard in the distance, and I hadn't even the energy to scowl at it. Perfect blond hair and bright green eyes stared back, mocking me with a fake smile. I'd never even smelled the fragrance that bore my name, so I couldn't help but feel that everything on the billboard was a sham. The son of Gabriel Agreste was the equivalent of perfection in the eyes of the media, and I supposed it was just as well that they couldn't tell the difference.
I had to admit that sometimes even I was fooled by the lies.
I tore my eyes away from the ad, choosing to stare out at the river instead. I allowed myself to feel the pull in my chest, to long for the water that wound sluggishly below my feet.
I sighed.
Without my mother, I had no one to share my new discoveries with. Father would never understand the way I was tied to the water. Mother was the one who understood. My own melancholy left a coldness in my chest that threatened to spill out and freeze everything around me.
"Keep your composure," my stoic father would say. "Crying is not the Agreste way."
He wasn't around to see me though, and I didn't particularly care about being an Agreste at the moment. Something within me snapped.
I gave in to the riptide of emotions that I'd been holding at bay for the better part of a year. Raw and jagged were the waters within me, and when I opened my mouth to scream into the wind, I released an eerie howl that ricocheted off of the buildings.
The pressure in my chest lessened, and my voice weaved into a somber melody of its own accord. I'd never been much of a singer, but the notes tumbled from my lips like they had been waiting ages to do so. My lament echoed through the streets and over the water, and I clutched the guardrail as I poured my heart out in a lyric-less song.
My last note drew to a close, and I felt warmer than I had before. The ache in my chest was nearly nonexistent, and the storm of emotions was calm. I gazed longingly at the water below, and tried to beat down my urge to jump.
The river looked so inviting as it drifted pleasantly down the channel. I wanted to drift too.
My grip tightened on the rail, as if I could anchor myself to the bridge that way. The wind ruffled my hair, mussing it a bit despite the expensive hair gel in it. It would be ridiculously messy if it got wet.
I kicked off my sneakers and dropped my over-shirt on the ground in an unceremonious wad of fabric. I tried to consider the consequences of my actions, but the pull was just too strong.
I climbed up to perch on the railing, balancing like an odd sort of bird. I gazed down at the water, nearly two stories away from where I sat crouched on the guardrail. The river called to me, stronger than I'd ever felt it before.
"Hey, wait!" a voice called.
My head snapped up in response to the request, and I found myself staring into the fiercest blue eyes I'd ever seen.
She was small in stature but I could tell just by looking at her that she was larger than life. Her dark hair was tied up in a sloppy bun, and she stood with her hands on her hips as she stared up at me.
"Stay right there, I'll get you down," she said, taking a careful step closer.
I was touched by her concern, but also a bit irritated that she'd come to stop me from jumping into the river.
"It's okay, I'm not stuck or anything," I said, hoping against hope that she would continue on her merry way.
The girl raised an eyebrow, and I realized that it was a long shot, anyway.
She held out a hand and gave me an encouraging smile, as if she weren't trying to coax me off of a guardrail. I stared at the outstretched hand and sighed in defeat.
I gazed out at the water once more, feeling that familiar tug in my chest. I turned back to the girl, who remained as unmovable as a mountain. I placed my hand in hers and allowed her to help me down onto the pavement of the bridge.
For whatever reason, she looked proud of me. I gave her a weak smile.
"Uh, thanks," I said, feeling more frustrated than anything else.
Disappointment at my actions warred with disappointment at not finding out why the water called out to me.
"I know you probably don't really mean that, but I hope one day you will," the girl said, wisdom dancing in those blue eyes as she gave my hand a gentle squeeze and released it.
I laughed and shook my head, "I hope so too. I probably can't even explain why I was up there."
She hummed and inclined her head. "Would you like to try? I'm a great listener."
I considered declining her offer, but the sharp pang of grief in my chest changed my mind. My mother would be horrified to see the way I'd clammed up over the year she'd been gone. Mother would want me to talk to someone.
Though, she'd probably prefer if I didn't spill my guts to a perfect stranger.
Mind made up, I raked my fingers through my hair and took a deep breath.
"I know this sounds crazy, but literally my whole life I've wanted to jump into the river," I blurted.
The dark haired girl blinked in surprise, but I didn't give her enough time to respond.
My feet moved of their own accord, and I paced restlessly as I spoke.
"It's all I ever think about. Every time I look out at the water, it's like it's calling to me. I've been fighting it my whole life, and I'm so tired of fighting," I exclaimed, unbothered by the surprised widening of the girl's eyes.
She took a step forward and rested a hand on my forearm. Her touch soothed the maelstrom in my mind to a dull roar, and I stilled in the midst of my pacing. The girl scrutinized my face, as if searching for something amidst the storm of emotions there.
"It's like a pull," she said, then extended her index finger and rested it in the middle of my chest. "Right here?"
I nodded, wondering how she knew what the water's call was like. I didn't think I mentioned it during my short rant. I stiffened when her hands cupped my face and her fingers pressed into my cheeks as she tilted my head back.
"What're you-" I began.
Her hands were warm and gentle against my face, and I wanted to lean into her touch despite the fact that I'd just met her.
"Aha!" she exclaimed, fingers tracing just below my jawline.
She tilted my head back down so that we were looking each other in the eye. Her confident smile made my stomach flip strangely.
"You're not crazy," she said. "You're a siren."
I jolted, "A what?"
The girl nodded, and her dark bangs bounced against her forehead as she did so.
"A siren. I knew I heard a Siren's Song. I thought you'd been hypnotized when I saw you sitting on the rail," she explained. "But you were the one singing, weren't you?"
I shook my head at her, "I wasn't singing, I was just making noise. It was probably awful."
Oddly enough, it was the singing I was incredulous about. Never mind her claims that I was a mythical sea creature.
She looked oddly offended and shook her head vigorously. "It was the most beautiful song I've ever heard," she said in a reverent tone.
I probably should have felt a bit embarrassed that she'd heard me at such a vulnerable moment, but it somehow made me feel less alone.
It was nice to be vulnerable.
"Did you lose someone?" she whispered, voice quiet and respectful.
I felt an echo of that familiar pang in my chest, but it wasn't quite as painful as it used to be. "My mother," I answered.
Tears welled in her eyes as she stared back at me, and instead of the standard reaction of pity, I saw sympathy in her gaze.
"You must feel so lonely," she said, reaching up to place her small hand in the center of my chest, right over the ever-present tug of the water.
That was the part where I was expected to lie. I was expected to say that I was fine. I was expected to tell her that I was perfectly happy with my perfect life, and give her a perfect smile to convince her of it.
I looked her in the eyes, and suddenly it was like I was looking into pools of water. Clear, mesmerizing, fathomless, and blue.
"Yeah. I am," I admitted in a small voice.
She gazed up at me with her small hand still pressed against my heart, and smiled warmly. I wondered if she could feel it when my heart skipped a beat.
"Let's change that then," she said. She removed her hand from my person so that she could introduce herself. "My name is Marinette. I'm a siren, like you."
I took her offered hand, a tentative smile tugging at my lips.
"I'm Adrien," I said.
She didn't release my hand after shaking it, and used it to pull me into a brisk walk. I didn't question her; I was too wrapped up in the revelation that she was like me to care where she was taking me.
"It's best not to jump off the bridge. It tends to cause a scene," Marinette explained, as if jumping into the Siene were something she did every day.
It occurred to me that, if she was a siren, perhaps she did.
"It's best to go down here, where it's just roped off," she said, gesturing to the more accessible bank.
Was she going to let me go to the water? I tried to quash down the excitement that was beginning to build, but was unsuccessful.
She slipped off her little pink flats and then released my hand so that she could shrug off her blazer. Marinette ducked under the rope and gave me a cheeky grin from the other side.
"You coming?" she challenged.
I felt a genuine smile stretch over my face as I followed her to the edge of the water. She turned to me, eyes glowing blue against the fading light of the sky.
"Ready?" she asked.
The river was like a magnet, and I could feel something even stronger than longing buzzing beneath my skin as I prepared to finally give in. I nodded in affirmation, and she grinned back at me.
Then she dove into the water, and I followed.
It was cold and dark beneath the surface, but as the water moved and swirled around me, I'd never felt so invigorated. My vision cleared in time to see Marinette circle around in front of me.
Her eyes gave off an ethereal glow as she reached for my hand with clawed fingers. Her scales were a deep crimson, nearly black in coloration, and covered her hands and webbed feet. The scales smattered the edges of her cheeks and disappeared into her hairline, reemerging again on her finned ears.
I took her hand and marveled at the fact that mine was covered in scales as well. My scales weren't as vibrant as hers, but they did have a green shine to them that I rather liked.
We drifted forward together, letting the current carry us downstream. Fish were few and far between, as the Seine was still not an ideal place for them to thrive, but I enjoyed the opportunity to see them up close. A paddleboat passed by overhead, and I watched it go with a smile.
The tug in my chest had been replaced with an invigorating warmth; it was disorienting in the best way.
I looked back at Marinette to find that she was watching me with a fond smile.
I raised an eyebrow in question, and Marinette muffled a giggle behind her hand.
"You're really pretty for a male siren," she said, her wide smile revealing a set of shark-like teeth.
It sounded like pretty wasn't necessarily a good thing, so I forced out a laugh while I worried that I would be shunned.
"Is that a bad thing?" I asked.
Marinette shook her head, "No. Just means I'll have a little less competition."
I blinked in confusion, "Competition?"
She immediately flushed and covered her face with her free hand, "You don't know anything about siren culture, do you?"
"I can't say that I do," I replied.
Even so, I had the sneaking suspicion that I knew where the conversation was headed.
Marinette tapped her scaly finger against her chin as she thought, "Okay, well. You know how in human society, the guys are expected to ask the girls out?"
I nodded, validated in my suspicion.
"It's the opposite for sirens?" I guessed.
"Yeah. It's kind of embarrassing to admit, but women often fight each other over it. Male sirens aren't as common as female sirens, so it can't really be helped," she said, face still red with embarrassment.
We both fell silent, and it gave me just enough time to realize that my mother was probably the reason I knew nothing about siren culture.
"My mother must have been a siren," I said.
I felt a bit hurt that she'd never explained any of this herself. She knew exactly why I felt that inexplicable pull, and yet she never told me.
Marinette nodded thoughtfully, "That's very probable."
A fancy tour boat passed over our heads, casting a shadow as it obstructed the lights of the streetlamps. The light from the streetlamps danced on the bottom of the Seine, rippling in the wake of the boat that disturbed the surface.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to be so forward earlier," Marinette said, looking very contrite.
I turned to offer her a smile and a shrug.
"I'm not offended. I was surprised, but I think understand," I said.
Marinette looked thoroughly unconvinced though, and I chuckled at her expression.
"Now that you've explained it to me," I amended.
She shook her head, "I was raised on the surface though. I know better than to lay claim on my new friend! It was super uncool of me and I'm so sorry!"
Marinette's glowing blue eyes caught my attention once more, and I found myself thinking that they closely resembled the ocean during a storm. I'd only seen it in documentaries, but I imagined the ocean was as beautiful and dangerous as her eyes.
"I don't know if it's a siren thing, but I kind of...thought it was attractive?" I said.
She gaped back at me, and I immediately wished I'd kept my mouth shut.
"Really?" she asked, eyes wide with interest.
"I'm so weird. Why did I say that?" I muttered, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.
My gaze skittered over to a cluster of boulders that sat half-buried in the mud, and I wondered if I could burrow under them and live out my days there. It seemed a more attractive option than living through the situation at hand, since it was the most awkward thing I'd experienced in all my years.
Marinette giggled and squeezed my hand. My heart lurched in response, and I wondered how I could've possibly forgotten that her fingers were twined with mine.
"Not any weirder than me wanting to fight other sirens for my new friend's affection," she said.
Marinette looked just as embarrassed as I was, and I felt the tension ebb from my shoulders as she smiled at me.
"Is that what you meant by there being less competition?" I asked, hoping that she would elaborate and let me in on more siren culture.
"Yeah," she said. "Female sirens that live beneath the surface prefer the scarier looking males."
Marinette's eyes widened. She waved her hands around frantically, as if she could shoo away the possibility that I'd be offended. I wasn't sure I even knew enough about siren culture to be offended at all.
"Don't get me wrong, you're plenty terrifying, but you're not what exactly what they're looking for in a soulmate. So I'll only have to worry about other land dwelling sirens, and there aren't many of us," she explained.
Marinette immediately clapped a hand over her mouth.
"Oh no, I did it again!" she shrieked.
I laughed heartily at her expense. I loved the way her nose scrunched up in indignation as she glared at me. Marinette jerked her hand from my grip and gave my shoulder a shove, her sharp claws gliding harmlessly over my scales as she did so.
"Sorry, you're just really funny," I explained through my laughter.
Her glare lost its heat, but she refused to let it die completely. She started to swim away and I followed after her.
I was just beginning to doubt whether it was okay to keep following along behind her when Marinette threw a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure I was still there. I instantly felt more at ease for knowing that she wasn't too angry with me.
We drifted through a few clusters of fish, which parted to give us a wide berth. Marinette explained that we were pretty high on the underwater food chain, so all of the animals we found in the river would generally be afraid of us.
Tour boats drifted overhead, bringing the muffled noise of tourists talking amongst themselves. The world above us was so much more enjoyable from beneath the water. I muffled a delighted laugh when Marinette took hold of my hand again. The webbing between our fingers kept her from fully intertwining our hands, but the intent was there.
I absently wondered if I could spend the rest of my life at the bottom of the river. Surely my father would get along just fine without me. I frowned and shook my head, as if to clear it of those traitorous thoughts.
My eyes locked on a movement ahead, and Marinette stiffened.
"What was that?" I whispered, drawing closer to my new friend.
"Another siren. Hopefully a friendly one," she said in a hushed voice.
The figure was too far away to make out, but we both heard the short burst of song when it drifted to us. The voice was feminine and Marinette seemed to recognize it, because she smiled and answered the mystery siren with a small melody of her own.
Marinette's voice was captivating, and I found myself unable to look away until she was finished. I wondered if I could coax her into singing under less dire circumstances. The mystery siren darted forward in an alarming burst of speed, but Marinette only giggled when the other girl bowled into her.
"You never showed up at our meeting place," the other girl said, pulling away from their embrace to place her hands on her hips.
Her scales were a shimmering dusty orange, which perfectly matched the flame-like coloration of her hair. She didn't give off the same calming vibe that Marinette did, and her glowing golden eyes held a glimmer of mischief.
Marinette gave the orange siren a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Alya. I got a little distracted," she admitted.
Those golden eyes locked on me, and smugness seeped into their mischievous depths.
"You found yourself a cute boy, huh?" she teased.
Marinette blushed bright pink and clapped a hand over her friend's mouth.
"Alya!" she whined.
Alya's voice came out muffled by Marinette's hand. "I approve," she said.
Marinette groaned and adjusted her grip on Alya's mouth. I chuckled at their antics, ignored the heat that rose to my own cheeks, and waved at the newcomer.
"I'm Adrien, it's nice to meet you," I said.
The orange siren grinned and shook my hand. "Alya. But I'm sure you figured that out already."
I nodded; it would have been hard to miss her name when Marinette said it in such a cute way.
My eyes drifted over in Marinette's direction, and I watched her grumble about Alya's behavior in very vague terms. The light from the surface glinted off of her red scales, making it look as if she were covered in rubies. I must have been admiring her a bit too long, because Marinette caught me staring and gave me a baffled smile.
"What is it?" she asked.
I'd never been particularly shy before, but I suddenly wanted to hide.
"Nothing," I said, a bit too quickly to be convincing.
Alya gave me a sly look, as if she knew all of my secrets. Marinette began to eye me as if she wanted to pursue the truth. Thankfully, Alya seemed to have taken pity on me and started a conversation.
"So are you new to Paris, Adrien? I think I'd remember seeing you around," Alya said.
The idea of being new to Paris made me laugh, and they both stared as I struggled to reign in my amusement.
"No, I've lived here my whole life," I replied.
Alya squinted as she tried to puzzle something out. Marinette smiled and shook her head.
"He lives on the surface, Alya," she said.
"That doesn't make any sense. How have you lived here your whole life and never bumped into any of us before?" Alya asked, looking quite confused about the whole thing.
I shrank back, recalling that my mother had withheld certain pertinent information the entire time I'd known her.
"I...didn't know I was a siren until today," I said, crossing my arms over my chest as if that could dull the ache that had taken up residence there.
My voice came out much quieter than I intended, and I winced when Alya's eyes narrowed with suspicion. She seemed to be mulling over her next words, and the calculating gleam in her eyes told me she wouldn't be as gentle as Marinette.
When Alya opened her mouth to ask another question though, Marinette shook her head. Alya's mouth snapped shut with an audible clack, much to my astonishment.
I felt a light pressure settle on my arm, and realized that it was Marinette's hand. She gave me a sweet little smile, and all the tension left my shoulders.
"Oh my gosh. You're the model who's on all the billboards," Alya said, golden eyes wide with realization.
I cringed, wishing once again that I could hide. I had enjoyed my anonymity while it lasted, but it seemed nothing could last forever.
Marinette blinked in surprise, "Oh! You are."
I sighed and looked away as I resigned myself to my friendless existence. Maybe it wouldn't be as much of a disaster as it was on land.
"Wow! No wonder you're so pretty," Alya remarked, and I appreciated the undertone of humor in her voice.
She didn't sound like an overzealous fan, and it seemed that Marinette hadn't even realized who I was until that moment. Hope blossomed in my chest. Perhaps my reputation on the surface didn't have to follow me down here.
Marinette hummed while she thought. "Maybe tell other sirens you're from out of town if you don't want them to know who you are. Your face is kind of recognizable if you know what you're looking for," she suggested.
It sounded like a good idea, and I told her as much. She and Alya proceeded to show me their favorite underwater hangouts, including a sunken tour boat that was mostly buried in the sand. I caught my reflection in the glass of the boat, and was surprised to find that I somehow looked even fiercer than Marinette and Alya.
Glowing green eyes stared back at me, framed by dark scales. They covered my body more like armor than decoration, and my finned ears were more distinctly pointed than the girls'.
Marinette appeared at my side with a bright smile. "It's probably weird to see yourself like this, huh?"
I nodded, my eyes still glued to my reflection.
"This is just as much the 'real you' as your other form is," she said.
I smiled and turned to her, "I just didn't expect to look so scary."
Marinette grinned, flashing her sharp teeth. "I like looking scary," she said.
I shyly reached for her hand, hoping she'd allow it even if she didn't initiate it. She automatically threaded her fingers through mine, and the lingering doubts evaporated.
"Thank you," I said, hoping she understood that I was grateful for everything she'd done for me.
I saw in Marinette's answering smile that she most definitely did understand.