Jamie is tired.

Part of him is hesitant to go back to the ocean, but only a tiny part in the back of his mind. It's the same part that also reminds him of the ocean dangers he already knows about. That everyone knows about. He knows of the occasional shark attacks and riptides that are an underlying threat of the ocean, but nothing has ever stopped Jamie from going back before, and the dangerous merman isn't going to stop him now.

The pull and call of the water are too much, and he's pulling his surfboard from the roof of his Jeep and stepping on the sandy beach the following weekend. The waves are perfect and the wind isn't too strong and next thing he knows, he's putting shells in his jar and stepping into the water with his surfboard under his arm.

Paddling out, Jamie sits on his board, letting the water gently rock him back and forth as he closes his eyes. He feels the breeze and sun warm on his face and breathes in the crisp salty air. It calms the distress that's been building in his chest all week. Slightly more relaxed, he opens his eyes and watches where the waves are the best for where he wants to surf. The rest of the world falls away with the water under his feet and he's desperate for the freeing feeling after the tough week he's had.

After his encounter with the merman, Jamie had gone home, curled up in his bed, and cried, the cold terror never leaving him. He'd almost died. He's lucky the merman didn't kill him, though he certainly wanted to.

He'd seen a merman. A merman. Fuck. He never genuinely believed that mermaids existed, but he's pretty sure he knows what he saw. He could've hit his head on something, though, and imagined it. The rock he jumped off, maybe? But if he imagined it, wouldn't it have been a more peaceful interaction- like him seeing one in the distance and that's it? He's pretty sure the fangs aren't something he would have come up on his own.

He couldn't have come up with it on his own, could he?

Either way, he stayed under the mound of blankets he'd piled on his bed until his mom got home from work. He even put on a hoodie to fight the embedded chill, which earned a confused look from her- it's almost summer and he doesn't wear sweaters often.

The days following hadn't been great either, with him almost failing an important test in one of his classes and a so-called "friend" abandoning him at a party where he didn't know anyone. He's pretty sure he was only "invited" because he has a car.

So, yeah. He's back at the beach as soon as he can.

Time flies quickly when he's surfing and he's starving by the time he's back on the sand. He strips out of his wetsuit and drapes it over a rock before pulling his lunch from his bag. He digs around for another few minutes for his sunglasses, but he can't find them. He must've left them at home, but he doesn't remember where he put them. Whatever. He'll find them later.

Sitting in the shallow water, Jamie leans back against one of the large rocks as he eats his sandwich. The sun is warm and soothing, and his eyes fall shut under its caress.

He ends up falling asleep; waking up to something bumping his elbow. He thinks he's in bed, at first, and brushes away the thing touching him. It's persistent, though, and he opens his eyes, blinking against the brightness.

Then he hears and feels the water lapping around him, a gentle reminder of where he is.

Looking down, he sees that it was Kiwi bumping his head into Jamie's arm. Jamie scratches his back and Kiwi swims in little circles.

"Hey, Kiwi. Miss me?"

The green sea turtle wiggles his flippers as Jamie rubs his head.

"I've got a treat for you." Walking up the beach to his bag, Jamie pulls out a container of various seaweeds. While Kiwi was under Jamie's care at The Aquatic Restoration of San Jose after being injured by a fishing net, he loved the blend of seaweed they had to offer and always cozied up to Jamie for more. Remembering the treat, Kiwi swims next to Jamie now, bumping his head on his legs.

As Kiwi's eating, Jamie feels around his front right fin, checking to make sure he's healing nicely. As per protocol, he was checked before being released back into the ocean, but he has a special spot in Jamie's heart and he likes knowing he's still okay.

"I must say," Jamie says out loud. "Your fin is looking so much better. I bet it feels good too, doesn't it?"

Kiwi wiggles his fins as Jamie scratches his head.

He continues to talk to Kiwi while they play- he knows some people would tell him sea turtles don't understand him, but he doesn't care. After all the time they spent together, Kiwi is his friend and Jamie talks to him just as he would any other friend. If he had one.

Even though Kiwi visits most days, he doesn't stay long, and soon he's swimming back out towards the open ocean. Jamie watches him go, waving until he disappears from sight.

With Kiwi gone, the afternoon is quiet again. The sun's out, there are a few clouds, and a light breeze. It's perfect. Gathering what he needs, Jamie takes his watercolour painting kit out into the water, sitting in the warm, shallow surf.

In his art class, they're in the middle of the painting unit and he has a project to create a unique piece. Using salt water instead of regular water, he thinks, will be unique enough. He hopes no one else thinks of it.

He also hasn't heard of anyone else using saltwater- maybe the salt is damaging to the brush or pigments? Only one way to find out.

With the somewhat cheap sets he bought specifically for this experiment, Jamie sets up his station. Using his surfboard as a floating table, he spreads out a mat to keep his papers dry. The mat also has notches in it to hold the paper down by the corners- he's lost too many pages to the wind and has learned his lesson. Around the mat, on the board, he puts out a couple of paperweights, the paint, a cup to hold his brushes, and another with clean water to rinse the brushes off.

He also puts his phone- in its waterproof case- on the surfboard and plays some quiet background music he hums along to. The sound of the water and music, along with the warm sun and light wind is therapeutic, which is needed. Especially after the week he had.

As he paints the coastline- the palm trees and bush foliage, birds and the sandy beach- the tide slowly drifts in and he has to shuffle forward to keep from being too deep in the water.

The saltwater turns out to work surprisingly well. It creates a cool grainy, blurry effect that Jamie kind of loves. He does have to paint a few coats to get the intensity of colour he wants and the water somehow seems a little thicker, but it's going well so far. He wonders if-

"What are you doing?"

Startled at the unexpected voice, Jamie jumps with a yelp. He clutches a hand to his chest in an attempt to calm his racing heart as he turns to see who snuck up on him.

It's the merman from before.

His head is resting on his crossed arms, as he leans on a nearby rock. The rest of his body is on the other side of the rock, hiding from Jamie. If he hadn't seen his tail the other day, Jamie would never have known he wasn't fully human. He still looks so young in the face; Jamie wonders how old he is. He also notes, surprised, that the boy's hair is dry.

"How long have you been watching me?" he asks, avoiding answering one question with another.

The boy just smirks at him.

It sends flutters through Jamie's stomach and he wonders why. He's not afraid like he was last time. The boy seems more… relaxed and calm. Jamie doesn't feel like his life is in danger, yet his stomach feels funny.

The boy's eyes dip a little and Jamie follows his gaze to his shoulder, where he sees a spot of paint. He must've accidentally touched the brush to himself when grabbing at his heart after the merman scared him. He wipes it off.

Apparently he had decided to trust the boy at some point, because Jamie turns back to his painting, dipping a clean brush into the ocean next to him. He then dips it in the paint to add leaves to the tree he's working on.

"I'm painting," he says, finally answering the boy's question. "What are you doing?"

"Watching you paint."

Jamie laughs at that. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees the merman's expression has relaxed into curiosity from the wariness from before. It's slight, but Jamie can see the shift.

"What's your name?"

The caution is back. Jamie thinks he's not going to answer, but then after a few seconds of silence the merman says, "Mason."

"Mason," Jamie repeats, feeling the name on his tongue. "I like that. I'm Jamie. It's nice to meet you."

The merman- Mason- seems unsure as to what to do with that information, but he says, "You too."

Jamie talks absentmindedly while he continues painting- either Mason can keep watching him or he can leave. Now that Jamie knows he's there, he's not going to ignore him. He is a little surprised when Mason starts responding to the nonsense he's rambling about.

"I'm still in school, so I only work there on the weekends, which means there are a lot of things I miss during the week and in the other sections, but I don't know. Things don't seem to line up right. When I asked Chris, he says it was just a misunderstanding and not to worry about it, but I'm not sure I believe that."

"It sounds like there's something fishy going on."

Jamie jerks his head around and sees Mason smirking. His stomach flips at the mischievous look, but he's not sure why. It's not like he's scared of Mason while he's like this.

"Yes, I do know that expression."

"And do you also know my place of work is an aquatic restoration that quite literally deals with fish?"

Mason gets a weird look on his face. "Deals with fish how?"

"Due to a multitude of problems- like pollution-" Jamie explains, "a lot of sea life gets sick or injured, so we take care of them where it's safe and they can fully recover, before releasing them back into the oceans. For example, I work specifically with the sea turtles, and there was this one, Kiwi, who was in not too long ago. He got caught in a fishing net and one of his front flippers was injured, so we brought him in and gave him the proper treatment. He's fine now and is back out here."

He gestures to the ocean around them. "He found me here a couple months ago and still visits sometimes."

"Is he the one you were playing with earlier?"

Jamie freezes. He hadn't realized Mason was watching him that long. "Um. Yeah. Yeah, he is."

"That explains what you said to him."

"Yeah." He thinks back to what he said and it takes a second to remember. He shakes it away. "Anyway… personally I don't deal with fish, because sea turtles like to eat seaweed, but yes. My work is fishy."

"Very fishy," Mason jokes. There's a sparkle in his eyes as he smiles.

There's another flutter in Jamie's stomach and he looks away.

His eyes land on his painting and he glances back up to the shore. Down, then up again. He thinks he's done. It looks pretty cool if he does say so himself. He doesn't normally show off his art, but he likes this one and he thinks (hopes) that Mason would like it too. He watched him paint it, so he might want to see the final product.

He stands.

"Are you done?"

"Yep! Do you want to see?"

Jamie only gets two steps before Mason freaks out. In a flash, he darts from behind the rock he was leaning on to one a few feet back. Jamie freezes, not expecting him to move so fast.

"Hey, it's okay, it's okay," he says calmly, holding up both his hands where Mason can see them. "I'm not going to touch you. I was just going to show you my painting. Here, I'll leave it on this rock and you can look at it. You can't get it wet, though. It'll blur the colours." He puts it on the rock Mason was just at, anchoring it with one of his paperweights, and takes large steps back to his surfboard, his hands still raised.

"I could kill you, if I wanted," Mason says without moving from behind the other rock.

"I know you could. I've had nightmares about it all week." He's not sure why he's admitting that, but he has a feeling that honesty is the best for this situation.

"But you're still treating me like you're not afraid of me. You're not cautious and are approaching me like I'm harmless."

"I know you could kill me," Jamie says again, "But I don't think you will. I'd just like to have a peaceful interaction with you."

"Who's to say that I won't?"

"If you wanted to hurt me, you would have already. You've obviously been watching me long enough to have the opportunity. It'd be very easy, but you didn't. You were civil with me and I'd like to be civil with you. You watched me paint, and I'd like to show you the finished product.

"Look," he continues, taking a few slow steps backward. "I'll sit down back here. Then I won't move, I promise. I'll stay here and won't come any closer and you can look at the painting, if you want to. You don't have to, but you can."

Still holding his hands up, Jamie sits down, mostly out of the water now.

Mason tilts his head, studying Jamie for another few seconds. He must see the sincerity on his face because he slowly inches out from behind the rock. He's still wary but swims closer to the rock with Jamie's painting. As he does, Jamie sees the bright reds of his tail again.

He wasn't dreaming. His mind isn't playing tricks on him this time- he's not in a life or death situation that's messing with his memory. Mason really has a tail. He really does. Jamie knew it, but it's one thing to know it and another to see it.

Mermaids really, truly exist.

It wasn't a hallucination.

He forces himself to look away. He's never seen anything- anyone- like Mason before, but he's sure he wouldn't want to be gawked at like… well, like something exotic. Which, he is, Jamie supposes, but still.

Instead, he watches Mason's face as he pulls himself high enough on the rock to look at Jamie's painting. He's being mindful of not getting it wet, which furthers Jamie's assumption that he wouldn't hurt him unless provoked. If he wanted to hurt or kill Jamie without reason, he wouldn't be worried about ruining his painting.

Mason looks up at the shore and back at the painting. "Is this supposed to be here?"

"Yes!" Jamie says, happy that Mason recognizes it.

"It looks like it. It's… good?"

Jamie realizes that Mason has probably never seen human art before and has no idea what's a good painting and what's not. "Do you like it?"

Mason nods. "I like the fizziness of the colours. And it looks… warm. Like the sun."

It sounds like Mason's not sure what he's talking about, but that makes the compliment so much better. That he's trying at all is a compliment. "Thank you. I, um. I have to submit it for class, but maybe I can laminate it after so you can have it?"

"Really?" Mason seems excited, intrigued, and skeptical at the same time. "It won't ruin it?"

"No. Um, lamination is two thin pieces of clear plastic on either side of a piece of paper with a seal around it. Water won't be able to get in unless it's damaged."

"And the paint won't… blur?"

"Nope!"

"And you want to give it to me?"

"If you want it, yeah."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to give it to me?" He sounds very suspicious; like Jamie is playing a trick on him.

Because, other than my mom, you're the first person who's expressed interest in my art, he thinks. Because you are clearly uncomfortable with being close to me, yet you're still near just to look at my painting. Because you're trusting me to respect your need for distance.

"Because I want you to have it," he says.

"Okay. Thank you." The way Mason smiles tells him he made the right decision.

He also realizes this means he'll probably see Mason again. He doesn't want to just leave it and hope Mason finds it- he hates people who litter and hates how much plastic is in the oceans. He'll never add to it. He'd rather help clear it out than let it build.

As much as Jamie would like to spend more time with Mason, he (unfortunately) has homework to do and his body is begging for food. He reluctantly packs up his art supplies and carries his surfboard out of the water.

"I should probably get going," he says, fiddling with the strap of his bag.

"Oh." Mason looks a little disappointed. "Okay."

"I'll be back most days. In the afternoon. If you ever want to come back."

Mason gives a small nod.

With nothing else to stall him, Jamie waves. "Bye, Mason. It was nice to meet you."

"It was nice meeting you, too."

Then he's turning and walking back across the beach. At the foot of the path, Jamie glances over his shoulder at the collection of rocks. He waves again, just in case Mason's still there and watching.

The next few times Mason goes to the beach, he doesn't make himself known as he watches Jamie. Sometimes it's standing on a board that moves with the water and sometimes it's painting more pictures. Other times, it just lays there on the sand, its skin getting a little more tanned and speckled each time. But no matter what it's doing, it almost always looks like it's enjoying itself.

It smiles as it turns its face up to the sun, eyes closed and face relaxed.

Though the human didn't try anything to hurt him or find out his secrets, Mason is still wary of it. It is a human, after all.

A cute human that threw its head back as it laughed when Mason sassed it.

So, there he is, watching Jamie do whatever it does, trying to figure out if this human is a threat to him or not. It doesn't seem to be looking for Mason- the times it does stare out at the ocean is when it's on its colourful board, swimming out to the bigger waves.

It turns out Mason does enjoy scaring humans- or, at least this one- but not the same way Gabe does. The next time he makes himself known to the human, it jumps and makes a funny sound. Just like it did the first time he purposely sought it out.

It's kind of adorable.

He makes sure to be as quiet as possible while approaching, just to watch it flinch. It does every time without fail, before pouting, then smiling.

It has a nice smile.

Mason never ever expected a warm welcome from a human, but Jamie looks at him like it's glad to see him. At him specifically, not his tail. It barely looks at his tail but easily holds eye contact, especially when talking to him. It makes Mason feel like it cares about him. About what he says or does. It certainly listens in a way his father never would.

And anytime it gets a little too close, Mason tenses, and it backs away.

It has Mason opening up to him more than he thought he ever would. Ever could.

Over the next few weeks, Mason gradually gets closer and closer to Jamie. He's not as paranoid about him proving Mason's father right and hurting him. From what he can see, Jamie is completely harmless. He can't believe he used to be afraid of what he could do.

Currently, Jamie is gnawing at a pack of coloured pencils with his stubby teeth, trying and failing to open it. It's a little pathetic.

"Here," Mason finds himself saying. "Let me help."

Jamie immediately brightens and he hands it over without hesitation.

Aware of Jamie's eyes on him, Mason extends one claw and stabs the box. Dragging his finger down, the plastic opens easily and two pencils fall out.

He holds it out and Jamie reaches for it and the two floating pencils, not seeming worried about Mason's still extended claw. Mason doesn't know if he's offended that Jamie doesn't see him as the threat he is, or pleased that Jamie's comfortable around him and trusts him.

"Thank you. Some of these are so difficult to open if you don't have scissors around." Continuing what he was saying before his struggle with the plastic box, Jamie shuffles closer to Mason, letting him see what he's sketching and how he blends colours to get the shade he wants.

He's been showing Mason parts of the human world he's never known before, different oceans he's only distantly heard of. It's more than Mason had hoped to learn when he thought about visiting the surface.

"Shading is my favourite part," Jamie says. "It really brings out the picture. Takes it from the flat, two-dimensional sketch it is and turns it into something that feels real. The best ones are when the final product looks like you can pick it up off the page."

Mason watches as Jamie picks up two blues- one lighter and one darker- and shows how the shades bracket the one he used for the drawing of a shell he's in the middle of. With the lighter one, Jamie colours the edges on one side and he talks about direct sun and shadows while adding the darker blue to the other side.

Just like that, like magic, it changes and Mason understands what Jamie meant about it feeling real. He doesn't know what he means by 'two-dimensional,' but he doesn't ask. He assumes it refers to the way it looks before.

Jamie shows him other 'art mediums,' like pen and ink, and painting. He tells him about graphic art and how much he loves working digitally and how he'll show Mason some designs later. The style he watched Jamie do that first day is called watercolour, and Jamie points out how it looks compared to oil painting and acrylic.

He also gives Mason the painting of the beach, the paper now encased in plastic. Even though Jamie said it'd be fine underwater, he's still hesitant to let it touch the water. He doesn't want to ruin it.

Until Jamie dunks it under the surface to prove it's fine.

Mason takes it home that evening, hiding it in his alcove with Jamie's sunglasses. He has a feeling his mini collection is going to continue growing as long as he and Jamie keep spending time together.