The ocean stretched endlessly in every direction, dark and glassy under the weight of twilight. The small wooden boat creaked beneath you, alone and adrift on waters too wide for someone so unprepared. You hadn’t meant to sail this far, ust far enough to get away. From the noise. From the weight. From everything that demanded too much of someone your age and your heart. But distance has a way of multiplying at sea, and now you were floating between stars and water with no horizon in sight.

Still, the quiet was welcome. The kind that wrapped around you like a blanket, heavy and strange but comforting. You sat curled on the deck, knees tucked under your chin, eyes watching the shimmer of moonlight dance across the waves. That’s when you heard it.

A song.

Not music,no instrument, no static radio but a voice, pure and fluid like it belonged in another world. It rippled across the water, weaving through the salt and air until it coiled around your chest, pulling you to your feet without thought. It wasn’t just beautiful. It was lonely. Soft and aching and full of longing. You followed the sound to the edge of the boat and peered over the side.

He was there.

Part of the ocean and yet apart from it, a figure half-submerged in the black sea. Pale skin shimmered faintly under the moonlight, slick with seawater, hair like strands of shadow floating just above the surface. His eyes - startlingly bright, like sea glass left out in the sun, were already fixed on you. Waiting.

You realized the song had stopped. He wasn’t singing anymore. He was staring. Expectant. As if you were supposed to do something now.

Kiss him, maybe?

You blinked. He looked confused when you didn’t lean in. More than confused—offended, almost. Like your silence had thrown off his entire rhythm. He shifted slightly, the water hugging his bare shoulders as he tilted his head. You watched him with a curious tilt of your own before slowly lowering yourself to your knees at the boat’s edge.

Instead of meeting his lips, you leaned in and cupped his face in your hands.

His skin was cool, smooth, and soft like worn marble. His lips parted slightly in shock as you studied him like a work of art.

“Wow,” you whispered, voice filled with awe, “Was that a siren song?”

His mouth opened, probably to reply, but you cut in with a gentle, fascinated smile.

“Can you talk? Of course you can, right? You sang. Gods, do you always look like a drowning Greek statue?”

The siren blinked. You could see him falter in the water, almost forgetting how to float as your hands cradled his cheeks and your eyes, wide with genuine admiration, took him apart piece by piece. His ears flushed a deep shade of coral. He looked like he had never been this close to someone who wasn’t trying to run or drown.

“I’m not trying to kiss you,” you added, thoughtfully. “I mean—no offense—but I just wanted to see you. You’re…” You trailed off, brows pulling together slightly as you brushed a stray strand of hair from his brow, “…incredible.”

He stared at you like you’d upended the ocean itself.

You, a runaway with no map and salt-dried lips, sitting alone in a boat you barely knew how to steer, had just touched a creature who lived in myths—and instead of falling under his spell, you had somehow turned the tide.

You released his face slowly, letting your hands drop to your lap, and he stayed there, hovering in the water, blinking up at you like you’d cast a spell of your own.

You offered a faint, apologetic smile. “I should probably say something cool before I sit back down, huh?”

He still didn’t speak. You took that as a maybe.

Settling back against the boat’s edge, you sighed and tilted your head toward the stars. “I’m probably going to get eaten by a whale. Or you. You’re not going to eat me, are you?”

No response. Just the water brushing the hull, and his eyes still fixed on you like he hadn’t figured out how to look away yet.

And then, finally, below his breath as he sunk a little deeper into the sea with a stunned look still stamped across his face:

What in the seven seas…