31 #2
“Hmm, I think I could put you on a repayment plan…” Marcos hummed, still holding Adrien’s hand hostage in the shearling pocket. “But you’re gonna have to provide a down payment first.”
Laughing, Adrien closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together. Marcos smiled against his mouth.
Generally, he’d never do something as dangerous as kissing in public, but they were out on an abandoned jetty in the middle of the night and it was darker-than-black. Adrien figured this was as safe of a place to kiss his boyfriend as any.
“Satisfied?” he asked after they’d smooched for a moment. Marcos hummed, leaning in for another, and then pulled away with his flashlight in hand.
“I guess .” He sighed, clicking the light on.
Off to their right and down a set of steps, the water organ was illuminated in bright white.
The granite and marble slabs’ pale glow revealed the fuchsia and yellow flowers of ice plants at their feet.
Several pipes made of concrete and PVC peeked out of the sculpture, their heads hooked like periscopes.
Although it had been open for years, Adrien hadn’t yet gotten the chance to come check out the art installation—it was almost always crawling with yuppies and tourists, especially during the summer.
Guided by Marcos’ light, he climbed down the steps into the structure proper, situating himself on a raised lip of granite below a choir of pipes.
Since it was low tide, not much sound came out of them.
Adrien pressed his ear up close to one of the mouths, leaning back when Marcos joined him at his side, crowding around the same pipe.
What little noise that did emanate beneath the calm, lapping waves was an awful, gurgling plonk that sounded akin to a particularly distressed toilet.
Marcos’ commentary didn’t help the situation: “It sounds like the time our elderly neighbor forgot her gas pills.”
Adrien’s face crumbled beneath his poorly-concealed laughter. “Oh no .”
“It’s okay, she lived another five years.”
“ Marcos ,” Adrien wheezed, throwing back his head and almost managing to bounce it off of the pipe. Marcos stuck out a hand, barely preventing his boyfriend from braining himself.
“Watch out!” he warned. “Don’t need you dying out here. This place is macabre enough as is.”
Adrien frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t know?” Marcos clicked on the flashlight, swinging it out over the structure. “This whole thing is made up of graves from the old Laurel Hill cemetery.”
“Like the breakwater at Ocean Beach? Bitchin’.” Adrien marveled. In the pale glow of Marcos’ flashlight, Adrien was sure that his grin was ghastly. “The dead helping the living, huh?”
“‘Scuse me?” Marcos asked, cocking his head to the side.
“Nothing, it’s something from when I was a kid,” Adrien dismissed, gesturing towards a little stone bench in an alcove. “Looks like that might have some good acoustics. Wanna try over there?”
“Sure thing,” Marcos agreed. He took Adrien by the hand and led them over to the sheltered seat. They leaned their heads back towards the little square cuts in the wall that the organ fed into.
The wet noises of the waves enveloped them, and the more Adrien listened, the less it sounded like a rogue toilet or a grandma’s upset stomach. He heard the pulse of the tide through the pipes, the hush of water traveling back and forth alongside the throb of his heart.
Adrien closed his eyes, letting Marcos’ grip on his hand act as a tether as he attempted to sink into the moment—but no matter how badly he yearned to let go, he always had to keep a close eye on his body, lest it betray him.
He could already sense the formation of scales prickle beneath his skin.
The mist and darkness were thick enough to reveal everything to Marcos and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin the one wonderful thing that had ever happened to him.
Without preamble, Marcos spoke: “Why don’t you come to Texas with me?”
“Sorry?” Adrien replied, taken aback by the abrupt suggestion.
“Yeah!” Marcos turned to him, balancing the flashlight on the bench between them.
He reached across his lap, now holding both of Adrien’s hands in his.
“I’m applying for UT Austin next fall—my uncle lives out in Pflugerville, so we’d have a place to stay rent-free.
He’s ‘part of the family’, so he won’t mind us being a couple,” he added with a wink.
“I… Texas ?” Adrien frowned. “I… I dunno, Marcos. That sounds great, but—”
“Think about it!” Marcos pumped their joined hands in excitement, grin as beatific and charming as ever.
“We can live there for a few years until you’re eligible for state tuition!
Then getting an art degree is gonna be pennies.
After we graduate, I can open up a PT practice and you can have your own art studio!
Not to mention, you can have all the time in the world to yourself—I’ll take you out dancing every weekend. ”
“That… that sounds amazing ,” Adrien admitted.
The thought itself was beyond tantalizing—a life for himself and Marcos, no expectant mother to feed his paycheck to, no unrealistic expectations to be beholden to, no responsibilities beyond keeping himself and his boyfriend happy and living. “But… but what would my—?”
“I know, I know, ‘what would your mom say’?” Marcos sighed and it was a disgusting, phlegmy, teenaged thing. “Jee-zus, Adrien. Not to be a jerk, but are you gonna spend your entire life answering to her? You know you don’t have to do everything she says, right?”
He’d heard it a million times. If not from Marcos, then from Erika. If not from Erika, then from Jessica , of all people. Even his guidance counselor had suggested that he had too much on his plate—not that there was anything any of them could do about the situation, but still.
It was as if, from every direction, there was someone telling him to break free. But despite that, he was still constantly brought to heel by his mother, like there was some inexplicable force that tied him to her will. Maybe it was just because it was familiar, and therefore it was safe.
But he didn’t have to listen to everything she said.
With sudden vigor, Adrien shot up from where he was sitting, and for a second time, he narrowly missed smacking his head—this time, on the roof of the alcove.
“Come here,” he told Marcos, tugging his hand. “I have something to show you.”
Marcos frowned, stunned by Adrien’s sudden shift in energy. “What’s up?”
Adrien pulled him back up the stairs, marching for the small nearby alcove of Coghlan Beach. It was the tiniest sliver of sand tucked away on the side of the jetty opposite the wave organ, but it would do for what he had planned.
Adrien began to tear off his clothes, skin luminescent beneath the beam of Marcos’ torch. Marcos laughed in delight, the light swinging out to the side as he began to strip down as well.
“Damn, never pegged you for a skinny-dipping guy, Adrien!” he crowed, shucking off his flannel while struggling to hop out of his tennis shoes. “Didn’t you say you’re not supposed to swim because of a ‘skin condition’?”
“That’s some BS my mom made up,” Adrien told him, jumping out of his jeans and kicking them aside.
He stood before Marcos dressed in nothing but his underwear, already allowing himself to surrender to the dense fog bank.
The scales begin to rise on his skin like gooseflesh and he inhaled sharply through his nose.
“There’s… there’s another reason I’m not supposed to go into the water. ”
“Can you not swim?” Marcos asked, so preoccupied with getting out of his pants that he hadn’t managed to notice Adrien’s partial transformation. “That’s okay dude, a lot of people can’t swim.”
“No, it’s…” Adrien stopped and turned to Marcos, who had finished stripping down to his briefs. He was pointing the light at Adrien, and even though only a small amount reached his face, Adrien could tell that he was beaming over at him in excitement. “You have to promise not to tell anyone.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die!” Marcos recited, tone loyal. He drew an x over his chest with his fingertip.
You are so sweet , Adrien thought, heart pinching in his chest.
“No, it’s… it’s really serious, Marcos,” Adrien told him, trying his best to convey the gravity of the situation. “Both of us could get in huge trouble if this gets out. It—it killed my dad.”
“Woah, what?” Marcos’ elated expression fell. “I thought you said your dad died after getting mugged—woah! Are you okay? There’s something on your arms.”
“It’s… that’s not exactly the case,” Adrien admitted. “It’s hard to explain without showing you first.”
Adrien turned towards the tide. Steeling himself, he took his first step into the water, wincing at the biting cold of the Pacific that lapped up against his ankles.
The farther he waded into the gentle waves, the more difficult it was to prevent the transformation.
It pressed out from the inside, surging against his skin like a primal scream—something he’d contained for far too long, begging for release.
With a hoarse noise, Adrien allowed it to take him, falling forward into the waves. Marcos called out in worry behind him—the shout catching in his throat and morphing into a noise of dumbfounded disbelief.
“ Adrien?!” Marcos choked, and Adrien could hear him sprinting into the waves after him. “Whu—wha—I— what ? What’s happening right now?! Is this Candid Camera?! Are you okay ?!”
“Marcos, I’m fine!” Adrien reassured him, using his forearms to pull himself to shore, where Marcos was gripping his hair with both hands, looking about ready to have a conniption—if he wasn’t already in the throes of one.
He settled a hand over Marcos’ bare foot, rubbing up to his ankle.
“I… this is what I didn’t want anyone to find out about. ”
“You…” Marcos blinked down at him in disbelief, his gaping mouth comical. “You’re a mermaid ?”