Blaine couldn't breathe. He felt like he was drowning, floating in an enormous pool of tears. Tears? He didn't know why tears, but that's what sprang to his tired mind. Salty and sad. Except he wasn't floating. He knew he wasn't floating because he could feel the roughness underneath him. It wasn't solid, exactly, but it was dry. Really, really dry. And hot.

But he couldn't breathe. And he was pissed off because that wasn't a problem just a moment ago. A moment ago he was floating in the dark and nothing mattered and nothing hurt but now. Now his chest was tight and his head hurt and he was hot. And he couldn't fucking breathe.

Blaine felt the pressure on his lungs increase and the water around him- no, in him?-moved uncomfortably. And Blaine tasted salt and warm and... something else. Something else that tasted really good. But Blaine didn't like what was happening. He didn't like it because it was drawing him out. Out of the darkness. Out of the place where he was floating. Out of the place where there was no pain.

His chest hurt. His head hurt. Everything hurt. And the ground was uncomfortable and hot.

And there was this horrible pounding on his chest. Rhythmic. Steady, yet somehow frantic. As if his chest wasn't sore enough already.

Pressure again. On his lungs and... on his lips? Oh yeah, he had lips, didn't he? Slowly, feeling began to creep back into his limbs. He did have lips and he had arms and hands and legs and feet. But he wished he didn't. He wished he couldn't feel them because they hurt, damnit.

Pressure again. Again. God, that taste, it tasted really good. Salty and sweet and warm and exotic... and god he wanted more of that. His lungs heaved a little bit, rejecting the air being pressed into them and the water in him sloshed angrily.

Pain.

But Blaine decided he would take it. He would wake up and let everything hurt if it meant he got to keep tasting that wonderful taste.

Pressure again. His chest heaved once more. This time his body got it right. The water in his chest was sent flooding upwards and Blaine coughed and sputtered, gasping as his airways cleared.

He sat up partway and leaned over, allowing gravity to assist him in the vital task of ridding his lungs of the foreign liquid. He coughed until the water was completely expelled from his system as he sucked in that sweet, sweet oxygen he so desperately needed. Blaine collapsed on his back, utterly exhausted.

He lay there with his eyes closed for moment, just breathing. Because he could do that now. He could breathe. And that was a good thing, right? There was something he'd wanted to be awake for. But he couldn't remember what that was.

He couldn't even remember where he was or how he'd gotten there.

Blaine curiously pressed his hand against surface he was stretched out on and found it was soft, warm, and slipped easily through his fingers. Sand, his mind supplied. Ah, that would explain the heat. He was on a beach. Okay, one mystery solved.

Now for the rest. Blaine had a feeling he was going to have to open his eyes for that.

He took a deep breath to brace himself, and allowed his eyes to flutter open. He squeezed them shut again almost immediately because, damn, that was bright. He was on his back, staring straight into the sun. He shuddered as the pain radiated from his retinas and exasperated the headache he'd just remembered he had.

But there was another reason Blaine had closed his eyes. Another reason he was refusing to open them. And that was because there was no way he'd actually seen what he'd just thought he'd seen.

Blaine tried to think. He was delirious. It was perfectly normal to have hallucinations after almost drowning, right? He had no idea but it sounded at least mildly plausible. Far more likely than the alternative anyway. Blaine took one more steadying breath, then slowly cracked his eyes open halfway.

But the mirage was still there. He was still there.

Oh... Blaine couldn't think of an interjection potent enough to do justice to what he was seeing. He was completely stunned.

He was staring into the sun, that was true, and maybe that was affecting his vision, but Blaine seriously doubted it. If the sun had the power to create this kind of beauty, people never would have stopped worshipping it.

No, as impossible as it was, Blaine had to accept the truth: hovering over him was the most exquisite man he'd ever seen. In fact, he was so gorgeous, Blaine wasn't entirely sure if he was a man. Surely, perfection of this quality could only belong to the gods.

Everything about him took Blaine's newly-restored breath away. His young, cherubic face. His rosy, unassuming lips. How his skin was so pale and smooth as to seem almost translucent in the bright light of the sun. The color of his, damp, sandy brown hair, and the way it stuck out, almost comically, in every which way, somehow managing to make this adorable being look incredibly hot at the same time. The broadness of his shoulders, the strong, toned nature of his bare chest and arms as they held up his body. And, most of all, the way his eyes seemed to shimmer and change, shifting between all manners of blues and greens, harmonizing with the swirling ocean behind him.

He was the most beautiful thing in the world.

And Blaine suddenly realized he'd been wrong. He wasn't awake. No, that was impossible. He was still passed out. Possibly dead. Drowned. Yes, that must be it. He'd drowned and now he'd gone to heaven. Or hell. Or wherever. He didn't care. Wherever he was, whatever he was, he was thrilled to be there. Here, he was blessed with the sight of this amazing creature and he would gladly just lay there staring at him for the rest of his existence.

The man- boy, really; he did look so very young- tilted his gorgeous head to the side and raised a slim, elegant eyebrow. His expression was impenatrable, but, if Blaine had to guess, he'd say he looked rather intrigued.

Blaine swallowed nervously and slowly shifted, careful not to make any sudden movements, until he was propped up on his elbows. The mysterious boy backed up to make way for him, never breaking eye contact. Blaine let his eyes wander down the other man's body. The boy's chest was bare, -as was his own, he noted offhandedly- toned, broad and as pale as his perfect face. The castaway took a few seconds to regather his thoughts as the sight had done an A-rate job of scattering them across the shoreline. After a moment, Blaine allowed his eyes to flicker lower and his heart nearly dropped into his stomach.

Jesus Christ.

There, just below the boy's navel, where his hips should have begun, were scales. Bright, glistening, fish scales. Rows upon rows of them, emerging seamlessly from the skin at his waist and extending downward. They ranged in color from brilliant gold, to a deep, radiant red, with every shade of yellow and orange in between. They sparkled so vibrantly in the hot light of the day... it was like staring into a the heart of sunrise. As Blaine followed the endless stream of scales downward, he saw they finally culminated, after maybe eight or so feet, into an enormous fish tail.

The realization hit Blaine like a tsunami. This boy was a mermaid! No, wait…A mer-boy? What did you call a male mermaid? Mer-guy? Mer-male? Merman? Yes. Blaine decided 'merman' sounded the least weird. Not that there was anything about this situation that wasn't completely fucking weird.

Blaine looked up from the merman's tail and met his eyes. Those startlingly blue, oceanic eyes. And instantly, it all came flooding back to him in a rush. Blaine's eyes widened in dismay and he gasped.

The singing, the beautiful women, the screaming, the blood, the...tails. Yes, they had had tails. He'd been too infatuated and then too hysterical to register it at the time, but yes. Mermaids. It had been mermaids that had destroyed his ship and massacred his friends before his eyes. Mermaids that had nearly killed him too. And there was one just inches away from him right now.

Panic shot through Blaine's body and he tried to scramble backwards, away from the stunning creature with the vicious intentions. But he was stopped when a pale hand shot out and grasped his leg with vice-like grip. Blaine's mouth dropped open in fear and a scream bubbled up from his chest.

But the cry died in throat, because just then, the merman spoke.

"Don't," he said, "You'll hurt yourself."

Blaine stopped. He sat there, wholly immobilized. He didn't even breathe.

He was completely terrified, of course. But it was more than that. It was so much more. Blaine had thought he'd heard perfection in the mermaids' twisted serenade, back before all hell'd broken loose. He'd been certain it was the most glorious sound he'd ever hear, even if he lived a million years, but no. He'd never been so wrong. This boy. This boy's throat was made of gold. Every sound, every syllable, every breath that slipped past his flawless lips tugged at Blaine's heart, and sent a wave of warmth and light radiating through his whole body. His voice was high and smooth and sweet and unlike anything he'd ever heard before. Like a chorus of fine instruments all on its own. Just a few simple words had him paralyzed.

The voice's owner was looking at him with a mixture of caution and intense fascination. Blaine felt the boy's grip tighten on his shin, twisting it slightly. By some miracle, the sailor forced himself to unfreeze long enough to look down. As Blaine's knee rotated inward, his outer, left thigh became visible, and, more importantly, so did the enormous, jagged slice of wood that was sticking out of it. The wound spread out along more than half the length of his thigh. The wood itself bore a dark red stain as fresh pockets of blood and puss oozed out around the edges of the intrusion.

Blaine sucked in a sharp breath. He felt it, then. The pain. God, how hadn't he felt it earlier? Like his muscle was on fire. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't look at it.

"I didn't know wether to take it out or not," the other boy admitted.

Blaine looked back up at him and fought down the panic rising in his chest. The merman still has his leg in a death-grip and Blaine didn't have a lantern handy this time. Plus, the boy actually had a point. He didn't think he'd be able to get very far with a burning leg, even if he'd been armed with a thousand lanterns.

"Does it hurt?"

Blaine stared at him. It took him a full minute to find his voice, once he realized the merman actually expected him to respond and wasn't going to jump on him and rip his throat out.

"Wh-what?" He whispered, still unable to believe he was actually talking to a homicidal merman.

"Your leg," the other boy clarified, "does it hurt?"

The merman was staring at the wounded leg in question, his head tilted to the side inquisitively. He raised his eyes to meet the sailor's, gaze expectant.

"I-," Blaine choked on the words on their way out. He wanted to look away, to get himself together, but he found himself frozen underneath the angelic boy's scrutiny.

"I-uh-w-...yes," he finally managed. It was true at least. It did hurt. A lot.

The other boy nodded slowly.

"Well, you did have a ship fall on you," he murmured, almost absentmindedly, as he bent his head to exam the wound once more. Except- no. No, he wasn't just looking at the fragment. He was looking at Blaine's leg. Blaine realized at that point that his left pant-leg had been torn away just above the injury, presumably to expose the wound. The other boy was running his hands over Blaine's bare thigh and calf, over his knee, ever so gently, as though afraid he might break. All the way down to his toes. Marveling at the sight as though it was some strange exotic animal he'd never seen before.

Blaine had to admit, even through his fear, the boy's touch felt amazing. His hands were so soft, and damp, and warm. So careful as they tenderly caressed his damaged skin. Worn and torn, both from his most recent misfortune and from many previous years spent in his line of work.

Blaine felt his eyes drifting shut before the merman addressed him again, "I got messed up, too. See?" The castaway's eyes widened as the colossal, shining, red tail entered his vision. Lifted off the sand and hovering at their head-height, twisting about a bit to reveal a long, deep scratch. "That's what I get for diving into a sinking ship, I guess," the boy said, rolling his eyes slightly.

Blaine stared at the massive, muscled, scaly extremity as it shimmered in the sunlight. His gaze flickered from the tail to it's owner, a thousand questions burning in his mind. But only one escaped through his lips.

"Who are you?" He whispered.

The merman raised an eyebrow as the daunting appendage returned to its place in the sand with a flop.

"My name is Kurt," he said. Kurt, the name sent tingles down Blaine's spine."And who are you?" The boy leaned in slightly and the sailor's breath quickened.

"Blaine," he answered without thinking.

"Blaine," Kurt rolled the name around on his tongue and the sailor shuddered at the sound. "I like that," he breathed. He was still really close.

Blaine suddenly felt nervous again. The merman was frighteningly right there and was still holding onto his ankle. Images of the evil brunette poked at his memory. Sharp teeth, howling, blood. Blaine swallowed.

Kurt seemed to notice his discomfort. He paused, and looked at him speculatively for long moment.

"Are you afraid of me?" He finally asked.

Blaine's eyes flew up from where they'd been trained on the boy's tail to meet his cerulean eyes once more. The merman's tone was inscrutable.

"I-" Blaine tried to speak, but found the words stuck in throat. Kurt waited, his expression earnest. "I-uhm," he cleared his throat. He could do this. "I haven't had, uh, the best experience with, uh, with mermaids. Recently."

Understanding spread across the boy's features. "Oh, right," he said, "You think I attacked your ship?"

That sounded like a trick question, "I don't know," he said, "I just- someone did." Kurt looked more intrigued than offended, so Blaine kept going, "There was... a storm, and singing, and all these mermaids popped up and then-" Blaine broke off, the disturbing images flashing through his mind, "I- they were vicious. They were ripping the men apart, and the ship..." Blaine trailed off. He looked up and found Kurt nodding slowly, lips pursed.

"Oh yeah," he said with playful annoyance, "That would be my sisters. They like to play with their food…" He rolled his eyes.

Blaine blanched, "Food?"

Kurt looked at him strangely, "Of course," he said lightly, "Sorry about your ship and your friends but… we have to eat." He shrugged.

Blaine sputtered, his heart racing,"You… wha-…they… you ate-"

"Oh, no. Not me," Kurt amended hurriedly, raising his hands in defense. "I don't eat men… they taste all…bleh." He shivered, sticking his tongue out in distaste. He looked as innocent as a five year old expressing his hatred of green beans. It was both the most adorable and the most terrifying thing Blaine had witnessed to date. "Human girls are okay," the merman continued with a shrug, "But honestly, we don't get a lot of those out here. I prefer fish. Sharks are my favorite."

"S-sharks?"

"Yeah. But my brothers and sisters… well, your friends are gone. Sorry."

He didn't look very sorry at all.

This chapter was getting really long, so I decided to cut it in half. Which means the next part should be up before too too long. Thank you so much to all of you who followed, favorited, and reviewed this story. You guys make my week. :)

Anyway, I hoped you liked it. Reviews keep me motivated and make me smile.

The OMN update is coming. I promise!

-Alaska