Thankyou to Nayunari 'Ayu' Tsuki, Fazzle, Kufuffelupagus, AlteaAuroraRia, MarsMonster and ADashOfInsanity for reviewing! Roy monopolizes Marth a little more unfortunately...

Back at home Marth idly sipped a hot chocolate and watched the news. He wasn't particularly focussed on it though, and after a while he switched it off and turned the radio on instead. Strange that he should know Roy two years and yet now everything felt so rushed. Why hadn't Roy done this sort of thing with him before if he'd always felt that way? Marth sighed and turned the radio up. And Ike, what about Ike? He'd spoken to him only yesterday evening, but that seemed so long ago now, and it was certainly nothing to having Ike's topless presence around his house, painting. And seeing him sleep. And kissing him. He shook his head, trying to make himself forget it, at least for now. But it had reminded him that he still hadn't cleaned the red paint stains they'd made on the spare bed. Getting up, he headed upstairs with the intention of cleaning it.

Ike scrolled through the article one last time, his eyes flicking over all the important bits. "Ike Greil, upcoming artist…launched firmly into the eye of modern art buyers by a new, untitled portrait of a girl whose expression has captured the hearts of its every viewer…None more so than buyer Lord Falcon… 'worth every penny'…The portrait, sold for an impressive £5000, outstrips Greil's previous work…"

Ike closed the page and shut down the computer. He really ought to be grateful for Marth's choice, and yet he wasn't. He remembered when he'd kissed Marth that first time, how he'd done it out of the stupid idea that it would give him a better portrait rather than any other reason. He remembered how Marth's expression had changed so quickly into that look of surprise that had branded itself so vividly in his memory, how his lips had felt different afterwards… He remembered how his feelings on reflection had changed until he stopped to look at the finished painting and realised that painting meant more to him than any painting ever had. And that confused him. There was only one thing Ike knew for sure – he wasn't going to get anywhere by avoiding Marth completely. He resolved to see him, therefore, the next day.

Marth woke late from confused dreams, and wondered what he was going to do that day. Obviously there was the cat to see to as always, but after that he didn't have a clue. He needed some sort of hobby to occupy himself. What was he going to do? What had he used to do? He thought for a moment. Cycling? That was something he hadn't done in a while. Yes, why not.

He got ready, beginning the day as ever by showering, changing, feeding the cat and eating a banana. Then he was ready to go. He was heading to the front door to go out when someone knocked on it from the other side. Who could be calling this early in the morning? He opened the door.

"Roy?"

"Surprise! Hey, glad you're up, I was afraid of surprising you in your dressing gown or something. Look, I have this mad suggestion. Let's go punting!"

"What?"

"Punting!"

"What the hell is that?"

"Marth, don't tell me you've never heard of punting. It's those boats you steer with long poles."

"Punting," Marth repeated.

"Yes. Unless you had anything else planned…"

Marth slowly shook his head. "I was thinking of going cycling but only because I didn't know anything else to do." He frowned. "Why are you here so early?"

"I was afraid of getting her in the afternoon to suggest it only to find you out."

"Isn't it a working day for you?"

"Took the day off."

"Oh. Right."

"So are you coming?"

"Um…sure." Already dressed to go out in trainers, jeans and a t-shirt, Marth stepped out and closed the front door behind him.

"Alright. After you."

It was a reasonably long drive, but eventually they arrived, spent around half an hour looking for somewhere to park in the city centre, failed, and ended up parking further out, about another half hours' walk from the punting site. It was simple enough however once they got there – all Roy had to do was hire a punt and some lifejackets and they were off.

"Have you even done this before?" Marth asked as they pushed off.

"Once. A while ago. But I'm pretty sure I can still do it."

"If you say so." Marth looked at his watch. Barely past 11. How had this happened so early in the day? It felt like a holiday. He smiled, relaxing as he watched the scenery pass by.

"Roy?"

"Yes."

"Why did you invite me out punting?"

"Well, I thought it might be fun, you know?"

He couldn't argue with that. It was the perfect day for it – unusually sunny and clear-skied. It was definitely rather marvellous to start a day with.

"This is awesome!"

"You need to get out more," Roy joked back.

"Yeah, I guess so. Hey, you're good at this!"

"Thanks."

The small boat accelerated onwards, historic buildings passing them on either side. There were overhanging branches to navigate past for a lot of it, but when the route seemed clearer Marth piped up,

"Can I have a go?"

"If you like."

The boat wobbled precariously as they switched position. Marth took hold of the pole as Roy sat down.

"Oh my god! This pole is so much heavier than it looks!" he cried, wobbling for a moment as he tried to put the pole in the water to push the boat alone. He was still struggling as they approached a low bridge.

"Watch out!" Roy warned. Marth, seeing the bridge, attempted to lower the pole so that he could duck underneath, but the current in the river acting on the pole began to unbalance him so he lifted it up again, intending to manoeuvre it into a more stable position, but in doing so the bridge hit the top of the pole and began to drag Marth backwards. Terrified, Marth tried to lower the pole again, but the damage to his balance had been done and he fell backwards into the water.

It was cold, far colder than it looked, and much, much colder than Marth had expected. Feeling the current pulling him away, Marth thrashed, worried that he was going to drown. Roy, back on the boat, was laughing.

"Help!" he called, but the word was lost as water bubbled through his mouth and nose. His left foot caught in some reeds at the bottom of the river and this made him thrash harder, panicking. He couldn't swim. He was going to drown. The thrashing tired him out, but when he relented even a little he felt himself going under. Then, just as he was going to give up all hope of being rescued, strong hands heaved him onto a boat, patting his back as he spat out water. Water dripped into his eyes, meaning that for a long time he couldn't see anything but a blurry vision of the wood in front of him. He felt shaky, cold, and soaked through.

"That was legend!" he heard Roy call, his voice sounding further away than it ought. Was something wrong with his ears? Blinking water out of his eyes he looked up in the direction of the sound.

"Roy?" Roy was standing on another boat a few metres away. Was he somehow on the bank then? But no, he could feel the floor move beneath him – so where was he? Blinking yet more water out of his eyes he looked around him properly. He was on a different boat – someone else had saved him. He turned his head slowly. Beige sandals… tanned legs… green shorts… bare chest… and a large wide-brimmed straw hat pulled down low over the stranger's face.

"Erm…thank you."

"If one wishes to see mermaids drown one need only look."

"What?" Great, he'd been saved by a complete loon.

"It's a poem."

Ok, officially mad. Marth stood up and turned towards Roy, who was steering their own boat towards him. Roy extended a hand and Marth stepped gingerly from one boat to the other. Once safe he looked back over to the other boat. The man was standing now, turning his own boat 180° with graceful ease as Marth watched. There was something familiar about him, though Marth couldn't quite place it. His voice had had a heavy, though not unpleasant accent, yet something had been familiar with that too. He was probably just having déjà vu.

"Are you alright?" Roy asked.

Marth shivered. "You could have helped." He watched as the other boat began shooting away in the other direction. Wow – he hadn't realised punts could go that fast. Who was that weird guy? Roy's laughter distracted him.

"Marth, you idiot. You were wearing your lifejacket! You were never going to drown – oh your face!"

Marth blushed a deep red, humiliated. He'd completely forgotten about that, he must have looked so stupid thrashing around as he was floating. His 'drowning' had been purely psychological. He pulled his lifejacket off violently, as if to punish it for humiliating him. He must have appeared stupid even to the madman, maybe that was why the man had mentioned mermaids drowning… god, even the madman had been mocking him. Perhaps he wasn't even mad. Random but not irrelevant, serious even though the words seemed ridiculous… There was only one person Marth knew who could pull that off. Could it somehow be...?

Do you believe in coincidence? Please review! :)