The song lyrics in this chapter are from the song "A Burning Hill" by Mitski. It's quite beautiful, and I recommend listening to it when the lyrics, noted by ITALICS show up 3
"...What?" you asked, pausing the noisy typing of your keyboard to give your full attention to the coworker looming over your desk.
"Can't back out now! I'm setting you up and he knows when and where to meet. And I know you don't have plans because you never have plans," they exclaimed, patting you a little too forcefully on the shoulder. It took an excruciating amount of effort not to groan.
"What if I don't want to go on a date with a total stranger?"
They shrugged their shoulders, face pulled into a plastic toothy smile. "You need to get out more! I promise he's great, it'll be fine." After writing his name and the restaurant on a sticky note stolen from your desk and plastering it to your computer screen, they brushed off their hands as if their good samaritan deed for the day was complete.
"Have you told him about me? Like...what does he know?" you bit out slowly, taking the note from your screen.
"Oh, loads! I made you look good, don't worry." Completely confident in their ability to play you up as someone mildly interesting to a complete stranger, they walked back to their desk, resuming the click and clack of computer work.
The whole situation made your head feel like lead, the brain between your ears wanting nothing more than to weigh down your skull and slam into your scratched work desk. The problem wasn't necessarily the date itself; no, you could openly admit the last date you went on was...a while ago. Didn't go well. The thought of being single forever wasn't particularly appealing. No, the issue was your coworker. They didn't know you at all, not the real you anyway. Not the you outside of the office, the mechanics of routine present when you showed up to work every day, when you left, how you conversed with coworkers, how often you laughed at jokes, what kind of jokes you laughed at, or how often the laughter was faked to avoid appearing too stoic in an environment where you knew "fitting in" was paramount to company politics.
The "you" they knew wasn't really "you" at all. So if the fake you is what this mystery man expected, well he was probably in for a disappointing first meeting.
Your interactions with the merman were progressing as well as could be expected, to contrast. He continued to learn words, stringing them together in ways that sometimes made you laugh. He absorbed information at a striking pace, eager to show that he could pay attention and recite what he learned at any given opportunity. Today was no different.
"OK, don't be pissed, but I won't be here tomorrow…" you sighed out to the merman laying next to you on the pier. A week had passed since the incident with the fishermen - they didn't come back - and he now split his time between the water and laying more openly next to you. Head supported in his webbed hands, tail lazing off the side of the weather-worn wood, he seemed at ease. Building up a rapport of trust took time, but you were making progress.
His ruby eyes flitted from your fidgeting fingers to the look of guilt on your face. "Why?" he asked, voice raspy yet firm.
You cleared your throat awkwardly before answering, avoiding his observant gaze. "Someone at work set me up on a...date. It's stupid but whatever, we'll see how it goes," you shrugged.
"What's a...date?" The last word was experimental on his tongue.
"Ah, well, it's generally when two people get together and hang out-"
"Like us now?" he interrupted, finishing off the last piece of sushi you'd brought covered in extra wasabi - apparently he loved spicy things. Your cheeks turned an awful shade of pink at the implication. Shaking your head, you continued the definition with careful words.
"..N-no, not like us. A date has...romantic significance. To see if two people like each other as more than friends." Glancing over the merman immediately bristled, the blonde hair on the back of his neck standing straight not unlike that of an angry dog. He turned on you in a huff.
"Romance?" he practically barked at you, red eyes wide and brow furrowed. "Like...a mate?!"
You leaned away, taken aback by his sudden aggressive turn. "Uh...mate? Is that what you call a romantic partner?" The term was familiar to you when it came to animals, so...maybe merpeople had a similar system when it came to partners? Observing him warily he seemed to mull the words over in his head, making sure he understood before speaking.
"You date…" the merman said slowly, "...to find mate?"
"I guess? Yes? I mean, not everyone wants a partner, or finds someone to spend their life with...but for the most part yeah, humans want companionship, to be loved…" you trailed off, thinking about your failed past relationships. Some of them had promising starts, but ultimately didn't work out; a couple were disasters that you were glad to escape from. Still, some days proved more difficult than others when dealing with the fact that you always came home to an empty apartment with only your cat to greet you. It was lonely, truth be told, but you dealt with it. Now this topic of conversation made you curious; he asked you about a mate, which you inferred meant he wasn't the only merperson around like you'd first guessed, an anomaly in the sea. He wasn't alone.
"So…do you have a mate, then?" you asked, carefully watching his reaction. He quickly turned his head to the side and scoffed, though you didn't miss the slight dusting of pink on his cheeks.
"No mate," he replied through gritted teeth. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding at his answer. His gruff voice gave the indication that this particular topic of conversation was over. Fine by you; discussing your non-existent love life wasn't exactly exciting business anyway.
You were a ball of nervous anxiety the next day, dreading this date your coworker set you up on without even asking first. They gave you some basic information about the guy, but nothing really set off alarm bells that he was anything other than average, just like you. Maybe you'd have something in common after all - mediocrity.
Going home from work to change clothes first, you pulled out an outfit that wasn't too formal but looked like you put some effort in; first impressions mattered, right?
Arriving at the restaurant a bit early, you sat down and waited. It was fairly new but appeared busy, various smells hitting your nose pleasantly. You weren't given his number, your coworker probably assuming he'd hand it over if the date went well. Ordering a glass of wine for yourself, your eyes scanned over the menu.
Fifteen minutes passed, the seat across from you still empty. You told yourself he was running late or got caught in traffic. No big deal.
Half an hour later you ordered another glass of wine, the red bitter on your tongue.
Another half hour went by. The waiter came back, a pitying look on his face as he looked at the blank seat across from you, passing over the empty wine glass to your face, a mixture of sadness and jilted anger across your features.
"Excuse me, would you-"
"Just give me the check," you muttered out, staring daggers at an imaginary man across the empty table lit by a single flickering candle.
After paying you stumbled out of the restaurant, head swimming and feet heavy. You'd anticipated a bad date, one that might join the list of other unsuccessful adventures in romance...but being stood up completely by someone you'd never even met? That hurt. It stung.
Walking down the street, the lamps overhead feeling especially bright, your mind wandered into the dangerous territory of questions you knew you shouldn't ask. The footsteps and casual laughter of happy passersby were muffled by static in your ears. Maybe it was the alcohol talking. Maybe the bubbles of self-doubt surfaced after years of burying them with false hope and lies told in the dark cool air of your bedroom as you slept alone at night. Maybe it was a mix of both.
Were you that...boring? Had your coworker shown them a picture and determined you too ugly to even meet in person, so they bailed at the last minute? Did they agree to the date just to pacify your coworker's nagging? Did they just forget about you? Mundane. Average. Boring. A routine life of tedium...that was you.
Maybe you were meant to be alone. Maybe no one wanted you, your false smile at work a little too plastic, your peers thinking the fake you a little too unemotional, laughing at the same jokes with the same people day in and day out.
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the familiar scent of salt water and damp sand filled your nose. Your feet moved on their own accord towards the pier now shaded by the light of the moon overhead, the sun sleeping under the ocean current.
With familiarity brought comfort. Your arms wrapped around yourself at an attempt for some semblance of relief, fingers gripping tightly to your sleeves as you laid down heavily on the scuffed wood of the pier, eyes fixed upwards at constellations you could never remember the names of.
"Today I will wear my white button down…"
Your voice was shaky but the words wouldn't stop, a tune playing in your heart spiraling up into your mouth, lyrics sticky and thick on your tongue like bitter syrup.
"I'm tired of wanting more,
I think I'm finally worn."
Your cheek was damp, a salty tear soaking into the wood under your hair. It would dry up soon, forgotten like the millions of raindrops etched into the grain whenever the sky cried. You felt tired.
"For you have a way of promising things…"
Lost promises of hoping for something amazing, something spectacular...no, too much. Even something that just made you happy would be enough at this moment as your cracking voice lifted into the damp night air like a dim firefly, invisible unless vigilant and curious eyes sought it out.
"And I've been a forest fire
I am the forest fire
And I am the fire and I am the forest and I am a witness watching it...
I stand in a valley watching it."
Your chest felt like it was about to burst as a sob escaped your throat.
...and you are not there at all."
Maybe you were meant to be alone, maybe-
A rough hand wobbled into your vision distorted by spilling tears and touched your cheek gently. It was light, nothing more than a brush of air. Ruby eyes and blonde hair hovered over you, brows furrowed in a questioning look. The merman was completely silent in his approach, probably drawn in by the singing and sounds of pathetic crying. You sniffled and looked away, wholly embarrassed at that moment when you realized you weren't alone in your sadness.
"Uh-"
"No," he whispered softly, the usual raspiness of his voice absent. A tear stuck to your eyelash finally fell onto your skin flushed from alcohol and frustration, but he caught it with another gentle touch.
You remained on your back, arms still folded, knuckles white from the grip on your sleeves. Your toes curled in your shoes. The silence was deafening, your own shaky breath like fog in your ears. He didn't move, webbed hand still cradled on your cheek.
"...What's your name?" you finally asked. Somehow, until this moment, you'd never thought to find out if he had a name, or tell him your own. He tilted his head slightly, less than a foot from your face, not understanding the question. Uncrossing your arms, you gestured to yourself, fingertips digging into the fabric at your chest. "I'm (Y/N)...me (Y/N)," you uttered slowly, his eyes following your hand to your lips and back again. Finally, you pointed at his chest, brushing against his skin like the tickle of flower petals. "You are…?"
"...Bakugou."
"Bakugou," you repeated, and he nodded, eyes never leaving your own. For the first time that night you managed a small smile. "It's a nice name. Strong. It suits you." He didn't move at all but his eyes resembled miniature suns to you in that moment, bright and sparkling and full of life even under the dim light of the pier veiled under the night sky.
"What about...date," Bakugou asked slowly. Oh, right. The date. You laughed bitterly, hands at your sides, fingers drumming on the grainy wood.
"He...didn't show up. Dunno." Shrugging your shoulders, you glanced off to the side at the empty beach. "Maybe he forgot or changed his mind. So I left…" The hand on your cheek shifted to grip your chin, turning your head, eyes fixed on the merman named Bakugou. Everything felt incredibly warm, and it wasn't because of the alcohol.
"He's stupid," Bakugou barked out with a conviction that made your eyes go wide. "Understand?" It was a word you used often when teaching him phrases and meanings to make sure he grasped the proper interpretation; the implication when he said it to you now wasn't lost. You nodded, and he looked satisfied.
Maybe it was the wine bubbling in your system that made you feel bold, pooling in your head as you laid with your back against the hard wooden slats. "Pfft, I bet he was ugly anyway," you slurred, grinning with warm cheeks. Bakugou let go of your chin, both hands positioned on either side of your head as he leaned over you. "Your tail alone-" you continued, pointing over to his less human half, "is way prettier than that stupid idiot could ever hope to be!"
An incredibly smug grin highlighted his features, toned chest puffed out as he proudly shifted his tail, scales glistening against the reflection of the water shining from below. The scene made you laugh, happy for the change in atmosphere.
"I'd rather be here than a boring date, anyway."
"I'm not stupid," Bakugou stated as an indisputable fact that should not be questioned. He leaned in close - very close - his breath cool on your flushed face. Holy shit he was pretty. "You not stupid," he emphasized. You swallowed hard, his eyes pools of passion as deep as an endless expanse of blooming roses.
Opening your mouth to reply with something you'd probably regret, the vibration of your phone buzzing in your pants pocket ruined the moment as Bakugou shifted away with a snarl. You fished the phone out of your pocket, not recognizing the number.
"Uh, hello?" A loud voice on the other end cut through the calm sea air.
"Where the hell are you?! I look like an idiot now because you bailed on the date I set you up on!" You pulled the phone away from your ear, wincing from the volume. It sounded like your coworker. Wait...you bailed?!
"Hold on, I waited there for over an HOUR and that shitface didn't show up! So I left, end of story."
They continued to yell into the phone, your eyes rolling towards the back of your head at the dramatic tone. For once you wanted them to just shut up. Warm alcohol running through your system as liquid bravery, you got an idea.
Holding the phone out to Bakugou, you smirked. "Tell them to 'shut up' OK? Just say it into the phone."
Eyes flitting between you and the device in your hand, you nodded as he mirrored your smirk before yelling, "SHUT UP!" into the receiver, a hand covering your mouth in an attempt to stifle your laughter. His voice echoed farther than you anticipated, but you didn't care. The line on the other end immediately went quiet...until they started yelling again, at which point you hung up and put your phone on silent, stuffing it back into your pocket.
"Perfect! You did great; I've wanted to say that to them for years." Without thinking you brought a hand up to pat his head approvingly. Surprisingly, he didn't shift away, smiling excitedly into the touch. His hair was soft. "You tell someone to 'shut up' when you want them to be quiet. Understand?" It took a second before Bakugou nodded. You took your hand away from his hair, letting it drop beside you like a dead weight, enjoying the feeling of fleeing strands against your fingers. A wanting look flitted across his face for only a moment, but you missed it, eyes focused upwards at the dark cloudless sky, an ocean above and below you.
"...Why did you show yourself to me?" you asked suddenly. Your bravery hadn't worn off yet, questions lighting across your curious tongue wanting the taste of an answer only Bakugou could provide. "Why me? What makes me so special?" The questions hung in the air, heavy and thick like dense fog despite the cool breeze the waves provided. Your eyes finally met his, oddly serious, a shift from the look of pleased amusement from just a few minutes ago.
"You looked alone," he finally muttered. He knew you better than your coworker, the truth of such a short yet poignant statement hitting your gut like a punch you couldn't dodge. "Most humans there…" A webbed hand pointed over to the beach, empty aside from the daily remnants of sand castles and overflowing trash cans. "But you," he said, hand returning to point directly in your face, "always alone."
"Always…" you repeated slowly. "Did you watch me, watch others?" He shrugged.
"Humans fun to watch, fun to…" Bakugou smirked, eyes trained on you. "...throw fish." You snorted, recalling the memory of the previous week. His hand returned to the side of your head, palm flat against the wood, fingers brushing against your hair like a light breeze.
"Well you aren't wrong, humans can be pretty entertaining sometimes...and yeah, I guess you aren't wrong about me being alone, either." He watched your expression fall, a faraway look behind your eyes. "But...what about you, Bakugou? Are you alone, too?"
He looked away, and for a moment you thought you delved too far, asked one question too many of him. He turned back to you, though. The ocean breeze ruffled his hair so casually you forgot for only a moment that he wasn't human. "Not alone now," the merman declared, voice absent of raspiness, the same as when he brushed your tears away.
Gentle waves crashed against the pillars of the pier, background noise behind the thumping of your heart behind your ribcage. "No…not alone now," you muttered. Despite the beauty of the night sky behind him, the stars held no comparison to his eyes, specks of red bright against an endless expanse of blacked blue above you.
So today I will wear my white button down...
Your walk home was sober, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, the streetlamps above you casting dancing shadows behind you.
I can at least be neat, walk out and be seen as clean
A soft meow greeted you at home, back arching and chest purring for the familiarity of your affection, which you freely and gladly gave as you readied yourself for bed.
And I'll go to work and I'll go to sleep
Your coworker left angry voicemails that you deleted without a second thought. The bedsheets were cool and soft against your skin, head heavy but clear as it sunk into the pillow.
And I'll love the littler things
Your eyes closed easily, remnants of salty air clinging to the back of your throat as you dreamed of fields of blooming red roses floating easily on delicate blue waves against a sunset of orange and shimmering gold.
I'll love some littler things...