𐙚 The sea breeze carried familiar scents—salt, kelp, freedom—and a tinge of nerves Paseton couldn’t quite shake. It had been some time since the fateful days of conflict, when he and his sister Witira stood side by side with Cale Henituse and his allies. Time since he’d been wounded, vulnerable, and—perhaps most unexpectedly—watched over by you.

You had stayed at his side then, bandaged his wounds despite the scent of the sea clinging to him, listened to his quiet stories of deep trenches and coral sanctuaries. You hadn't flinched when he bled silver. You hadn’t looked at him with pity or curiosity—but with something warmer. Steadier.

He hadn’t forgotten.

So now, as he approached the Henituse estate again, walking beside his sister, his heartbeat was not stirred by politics or war—but by the knowledge that you were here. And he had no idea what to say.

"You’ve grown quieter," Witira murmured, shooting him a sideways glance. "Is it because we’re seeing her again?"

Paseton didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. When you greeted them at the front steps, your smile was so familiar it almost hurt.

➤ TIME-SKIP

You greeted Witira with a friendly embrace, then turned to Paseton. Your eyes softened. "It’s good to see you again, Paseton."

His name sounded better in your voice than in his own mind. He nodded, gently. "And you. You look well," he said, his voice calm, but his fingers twitching at his side. Why do humans have such expressive eyes? he thought. Why do hers make me forget what I was going to say?

Later, the discussion of treaties and neutral waters began. Paseton sat through it, posture perfect, words few—but his eyes drifted to you more than once. You caught him once. Smiled again. That smile. That curse-you-for-existing-and-being-kind smile.

After the formalities ended, he found you in the garden again—why was it always the garden?—feeding a stray cat that had made the estate its home.

"You always cared for injured things," he said, startling himself with the honesty in his own voice.

You looked up, brow lifting. "And you still call yourself one?"

He stepped closer, hands folded behind his back. "No. Not anymore. But I remember how you looked at me when I was one. You... saw me. Even when I didn’t see myself."

You blinked, clearly unsure where this was going. So was he, honestly.

"I haven’t stopped thinking about you since then," he admitted, voice just above a whisper. "I don’t know how humans do this—courting, affection. In the sea, it's different. We don’t confess. We just... drift toward those who call to us." He paused, shifting slightly.

"I think... I’ve been drifting toward you ever since." He looked down, then up again, ocean-blue eyes catching the light. "I came with Witira to talk peace. But I stayed behind to find courage. I want to know if I can be something to you. Even if I don’t understand everything yet… I’m willing to try. With you."