Yuuri was thumbing through one of the shiny paper booklets that the human had brought him, his tail waving lackadaisically in the water behind him. Although he couldn't read what the text said, he loved pouring over the colorful pictures that showed a world that he hadn't known existed before. He was amazed to discover that humans could come in all sorts of shapes and colors, just like merfolk could. Some of them were slightly chubby, like he was, and some had slimly fit physiques, like the human that he was living with.

However, humans seemed to be mostly earthy browns and blacks and creams, while mers could have scales of any hue in the spectrum. Yuuri's tail was a royal purple near his waist, which faded to indigo and then melted to a rich blue at the end. He had frilly, ice blue fins that caught the light like gossamer. But all of his colors paled in comparison to the eyes of the human that cared for him, which were as clear cerulean as the sky.

Yuuri had come to the conclusion over the past week that either the human was really good at acting, if he actually did not intend to hurt him. Who knows, though? Maybe he was trying to fatten him up. The delicious food he was being given certainly made it seem that way. But the human always spoke so warmly and sweetly to him. Although, for all he knew, he could be insulting him behind a facade of kindness. Somehow, however, he doubted that this was the case.

The human brought Yuuri new seawater every other day and had installed a device that filtered and cleaned the contents of his container. (The gills on his neck produced a lot of ammonia, and he could suffocate if it wasn't cycled out of the water regularly.) He felt guilty that the human was going through all this trouble for him. He wasn't worth it, was he? Surely if the human knew what a failure he was, he would be dumped back into the sea, he told himself.

Yuuri had been healing up nicely. The human had been putting a white salve on his cuts, and it seemed to work like magic; they were small scabs now. When the human touched his skin to apply the medicine, his fingers were warm- oh, so warm- and it sent his heart beating in a frenzy and his skin tingling as if electricity was coursing through it. It confused him.. he'd never felt anything like it before and didn't know what it meant.

Back in the present, a lock of Yuuri's wet hair slipped off of his shoulder and smacked heavily against the booklet. He quickly tucked it back, but the damage had already been done. What had once been a beautiful arctic landscape of ice and seals had a huge, muddled blob in the center of it. Guilt swelled in his stomach like a spiny pufferfish. Would the human be angry at him for ruining it? Anxiety mingled with the guilt, creating a cocktail of worry.

He'd never been mad at Yuuri before, but… The familiar sound of the human's barefooted steps came within earshot, and they began growing louder like a crescendo. He could hear the click of the human's furry pet's nails as well; it must be with him. Panic enveloped Yuuri, and he rolled into a ball as the human entered.

Viktor was holding a bowl of grilled shrimp that he'd reheated. It was steaming, bringing a mouthwatering scent through the air. His brown poodle was trailing behind, his tail wagging, hoping for a morsel.

"This isn't for you, Makkachin!" he chided playfully. "It's for the merman." He gave Makkachin a piece anyway, and then stepped into the bathroom. The mer was curled up, his face hidden against his tail. Viktor sighed and set the bowl on the counter. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned. The creature tended to try and make himself smaller when he was scared or worried, he had observed. The merman didn't move.

Viktor looked down and saw a magazine at his feet, with a large water stain that had run the ink together. Before he could stop himself, he laughed softly. The mer thought he would be angry about the ruined magazine? It certainly looked like an accident.

"It's alright." He tried to sound as compassionate as possible. Cautiously, the merman lifted up his head, still hiding behind a curtain of hair. Viktor smiled sincerely, making eye contact. "See?" The mer stared at him, gills flapping. He tilted his head, his eyes asking, "You aren't mad at me?"

Viktor found the merman's expression so cute and endearing. In his chest, the desire to protect and comfort him rose. He wrapped his arms around him, not caring that he was getting soaked. The other's body felt so cold and fragile in his arms; he wanted to hold him tightly and not let go. But he pulled away reluctantly. The merman was dumbfounded, perfectly still and eyes huge. Blood rushed to his cheeks, turning them a vibrant scarlet. Makkachin padded up to him and licked his face, pulling him out of his shock. He smiled shyly and looked down.

Viktor picked up the magazine, closed it, and slid it onto the counter behind him. He offered the mer the dish of shrimp. Delicately, the merman took the bowl, his webbed fingers wrapped carefully around it. He set it on the lip of the tub and ate them slowly, his hair still blocking out most of his face. On an impulse, Viktor reached out and gently brushed his silky hair back. He found himself gasping slightly.

The merman was beautiful, at least in Viktor's eyes. He had a soft face, with tiny, iridescent purple scales down his nose and along his cheekbones. Dark brows arched over his chestnut-brown eyes, which were so deep and expressive. His rose-petal pink lips were parted slightly, about to receive a shrimp that was being held by frozen fingers.

"You have a nice face; you shouldn't hide it," Viktor told him, not expecting to be understood. Still, the merman looked slightly flattered and the blush returned, although it was more subtle than before.

He kept munching on juicy shrimp, and Viktor leaned back against the cabinets, petting Makkachin contently. He pulled out his phone and checked his Instagram feed so that the merman wouldn't feel self conscious while eating.

'Huh, Chris got a piece into that prestigious art show he was talking about. Good for him.' Chris had posted a picture of himself wrinkling cheerily next to a raunchy, muscular, nude statue of the god Apollo.

While Viktor was happy for his friend's success, he couldn't help feeling a little hollow inside. It had been a while since he'd painted anything he was passionate about; he mostly did commissions as of late. He liked to surprise the viewer with every painting he did, but it was becoming harder and harder to do that. It was if his creative well was drying up. And although he wouldn't admit it, the thought terrified him.

Viktor realized that the sound of quiet chewing had stopped. His eyes shifted up to see the merman gazing at his phone curiously. He held it out to show him and scrolled through the page. The mer's face reminded him of a cat that's watching a toy.

"Ah!" Viktor dived to catch the bowl before it hit the tile. He hadn't noticed, but Makkachin had been licking the bottom and tugging it closer and closer to the edge. "I better go and put this away," he chimed apologetically.

Viktor stood to leave, but a freezing, dripping wet hand grabbed his wrist. He glanced down to see the merman pointing at himself. He enunciated something in mermish is that sounded like a two-syllable whistle. Viktor blinked.

"Your name?" The mer repeated what he had said before. "Yuuri?" He shrugged slightly as if to say, "Close enough." "Yuuri!" Viktor cried, overjoyed. It was so nice to have something to call him. "I'm Viktor." He pointed to himself. "Viktor." Yuuri swallowed nervously.

"Bikkutoru?" he tried, flustered. Viktor's lips curled into a grin. So sweet. He nodded. Yuuri smiled, relieved, and Viktor turned to leave. He tapped down the stairs, Makkachin trotting next to him.

"Yuuri," he whispered softly, to no one in particular.