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francixoxoxo · 2 months

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⋆.✧˚𓇼𝒫ℯ𝒶𝓇𝓁𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒮𝒶𝓃𝒹 𓆝𓆟

𝐏𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞!𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝 𝐗 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲.

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭

Sorry for the wait but i couldnt bear hyping it up and putting out less than my best!! This au is my baby 🤭 @milliesfishes for supporting me through this whole idea!!! Enjoy!!

The sea was entrancing.

She drew you in. She let you believe she was docile, but it wasn’t a lie. She was beautiful and generous, the sea. Frequently kind, but she was suddenly and at a whim cruel.

Billy had been absolutely in love with the sea since boyhood, growing up along the coast with his mother and brother, Joe. About as in love as a man could be with an indescribable force. A force he could not hope to understand. Understanding the sea, in his mind, was accepting that even if you were to know, you couldn’t get. He was all right with that.

Now that the sea seemingly wanted to thrash his body ‘round and drown the life from his lungs, well, he supposed he might’ve deserved it. Billy could see his life stretching before him, similar to the vastness of the same sea threatening to take that life, and frankly? He didn’t like the looks of things. He didn’t like the path he was on, a pirate on a crew of scum who did nothing but take. Take from the sea. Take from women. Take from innocents.

Perhaps, Billy thought, this was the sea gently cutting his thread short before it frayed. Letting him gracefully leave the stage, as a pirate with a reputation for violence despite his true, kind-hearted nature. Letting him exit before the former drowned out the latter.

Perhaps this was the sea embracing him as he had always embraced her.

Just a moment ago Billy had been slamming his fist into Ollinger’s jaw. That dick, Billy thought bitterly, though he didn’t want his last thoughts to be of the scraggly bastard. He’d just been begging for it, ever since he came aboard. He let the older man throw the first punch, but he was a fool to think that Billy wouldn’t fight back.

It all happened very quick. Suddenly, the wooden railing was digging into Billy’s back. He whipped his head over his shoulder, gaping at the waves rushing by the moving boat. He was scrambling to find purchase, to get back to his feet, but Ollinger made it impossible. “Bob, Bob, hey— don’t— Ollinger, stop. Don’t do this—“

Ollinger sneered at Billy, panting like a dog and obviously relishing in the other man’s panick. He snorted, rolling his shoulder to shake off the hand of a crewmate. The tussle was gaining some attention from the other men.

“Hope y’can swim, Kid.” Ollinger spat, shoving Billy into the waters below.

Oh, fresh air was freedom.

You’d certainly get in trouble with your mother for being above the surface, but that seldom worried you anymore. You felt such a powerful sense of freedom, such a compelling desire to do what you were forbidden against.

It felt like discovery.

Yes, sometimes you longed to gush to your many sisters about your findings, the breeze, the beautiful stars and the warmth of the sun. But it felt nice, sometimes, to keep it all to yourself. The secluded beach you’d lay upon, watching the sand run through your fingers— it was for you. You’ve never had anything completely and truly of your own.

Today you weren’t particularly in the mood for the shore of the nearby port town. You were laying out on some rocks a ways away instead. That was the beauty of this thing, the secret you had to yourself— you could do exactly as you pleased!

Well. Exactly as you pleased until it came to men.

You’d slipped underwater from the rocks you were sunning yourself on when the boat approached. Despite what everybody seemed to think, you weren’t that foolish. You knew that a mermaid laying on the rocks was like finding a nice steak in the middle of the desert. The thought irked you, but you couldn’t ignore the myths that every part of your body would sell for plenty in a market.

From what your mother and sisters have told you? Men were monsters. Men’d harpoon a woman like you through the chest before you could open your mouth to speak. You’d been told horror stories about sailors cutting mermaids at the hip, selling their tails and locks of their hair.

But you were certain those stories were fake, conjured by cruel adolescent girls to torment their little sister. Not that you had much of a reason to believe otherwise.

You reminded yourself of that as you held onto the rocks, peeking your eyes out of the water and watching the vessel. It was close enough for you to see the commotion on board; two men having it out, one much broader and younger, but one with an obvious thirst to see the other one bleed. It was in their nature, you supposed.

It was dangerous to be watching so close. Your mother’s reprimanding words rang in your ears. But the boat was moving so slowly, as if the tussle was begging for your eyes on it.

Before you knew it, harmless, boyish punches and wrestling turned into one man being held over the railing. The broader man was falling into the sea, the men aboard shouting their lungs out. With the size of the boat? The height of his fall and the current today? Oh, he hardly had a chance.

You waited a moment. Then another. Your eyes flickered twixt the boat and where the water rippled from the man’s fall, chest heaving with the thumping of your heart. You couldn’t just leave him to drown, you thought as you counted ten seconds underwater. It was obvious the undertow had him. You forgot the old tales about violent men— your conscience outweighed your fear.

You were swimming to him in an instant. He was still trying to swim against the current, poor thing. You wrapped your arms around his middle, clearly shocking him, because he writhed in your arms and turned to look at you with wide eyes. Oh, what pretty eyes he had. The deepest of blues, a pure and clear color, one that struck through your chest and into your heart. Before you knew it, those eyes were fluttering shut, his stiff body going limp in your arms.

Enough staring. You reminded yourself that you were supposed to be saving him.

You swam as fast as your tail could take you, gliding through the water effortlessly. You glanced down at the man, only for a brief moment, distressed to see that his eyes were still closed. God, why were humans so stupidly fragile?

Soon enough you were lifting him onto the shore, even putting the effort to haul him onto the dry sand. Maybe the heat of the sun-warmed grains would help, you thought, eyes wandering to his legs. You felt more calm than you should’ve around a human man.

You leaned over him, folding your glittering tail under yourself. The water in his lungs wouldn’t kill him, you were certain. Just to be sure, you pressed your lips to his, coaxing the fluid from his lungs. Nothing more than curtesy, you told yourself. Only because a kiss from your kind could let a man breath through water. You were careful to wipe it from his chin as he choked it out. You spooked a bit, wondering if the man’d wake, but no. He was still unconscious.

With that comfort, you leaned your face close to him, squinting at his features. He didn’t seem vicious.

You stroked your pointer finger along the slope of his aquiline nose, intrigued. He was quite handsome, really. The set of his mouth and his plush lips, he just seemed kind. Out of curiosity, you pushed your fingernail under his top lip, lifting it and finding that his teeth were not in fact razor-sharp, like your mother had told you. You hummed, pleased.

You couldn’t help stroking the backs of your fingers along his jaw, his forehead, his stubbled cheeks.. you rather liked the rough texture under your skin. Curiously, you leaned your face closer to his, narrowing your eyes at the man.

You’d been told men were dangerous. But this one didn’t seem so bad.

Your hand drifted down to lay over his chest, feeling the strong thump of his heartbeat under your palm. What a relief! Your other elbow rested above his opposite shoulder, your face hovering over his. You brushed your hair off his forehead, the dripping locks falling around your face and onto his. He was certainly more handsome than the mermen where you were from. You didn’t fight the excited smile splitting your lips.

The man’s eyelashes began to flutter, though, and you pushed yourself a bit further above him out of curtesy. His eyes opened a crack, then a bit more upon realizing he wasn’t in fact looking into the sun, but a woman, a beautiful one at that. His blue eyes twinkled, and for a moment he just stared, and you did the same.

Well, what could you say?

“Hey.” The man mumbled, his brows drawing together and a faint smile stretching his features. Oh, he wasn’t just handsome, he was gorgeous.

You hadn’t moved your hand from his heartbeat, you could feel the rhythm of it accelerating. “Hi.”

“S’ this heaven?” He asked, voice low and gravelly from the saltwater. “You an angel?” His eyes flicked downward, settling on your chest. His dark brows lifted, as if there was something surprising down there, you looked down at yourself. No, nothing special. Though you did notice that he was wearing fabric over his own chest. Maybe a cultural difference.

It wasn’t until the man’s eyes drifted further down—catching a glimpse of the way your hips melted into iridescent scales, a tail of blues, pinks and purples, colors impossible for a man to name— that his blue eyes became buggy, his brows drawing again.

“Or a mermaid?”

Billy was entranced from the moment his eyes fluttered open and you were looming over him.

It was something indescribable. Something about you, some radiant, iridescent glow hanging around you, some unknowable way about you— it was as if just the glimmer in your eyes put a spell on him. You were otherworldly.

The simplest of hellos from you was all he needed to fall head over feet, the sweet flutter of your eyelashes all he needed to be at your whims.

Billy only understood just what it was about you that was so opalescent, so undoubtably esoteric, when he glanced down to see that where your hips would’ve connected to a pair of legs, there was only a tail. A tail full of beautiful scales shimmering colors like stained glass in a cathedral, the sunlight moving over the sleek of them similar to the way the light danced over the waves washing onto the shore.

a tail. A mermaid.

Well, it wasn’t like Billy’s never heard of one. No, quite the opposite. Practically every man on his crew (his crew, the image of Ollinger brought a sour taste to his mouth,) raved about some time or other that they’d encountered a mermaid. Dick claimed to have caught one, but that it slipped away when he turned his back. Jesse said once he heard the melodic voice of one.

Ollinger, that bastard, said that on his old crew, they got one in their fishing nets. Hauled her aboard, had a good cheers, and—

“What’d you even do with her?” Billy had asked, furrowing his brow. It irked him to imagine just what pirates had to do with such majestic creatures, creatures with a heart and a soul just as they had.

Well. Probably a heart and soul of a purer kind. “Well, y’sell the tail, that’s the big one.” A cruel smile had spread over Bob Ollinger’s cheeks, one that dripped with a devilish greed that flashed behind Billy’s eyes like a warning sign. “We cut her straight ‘cross at the belly. Y’shoulda heard her cryin’, Kid, ya woulda gone green over the railing.” Billy certainly felt green then.

Looking up at you now, meeting your enthralling eyes, recalling Ollinger and by association the mortifying chill of saltwater enveloping him, he came to a sure conclusion. “I almost drowned.” Billy breathed.

You just nodded your pretty little head, eyes suddenly round and doey. He was beginning to wonder if he imagined you speaking. Billy went on, voice soft and low, meant only for your ears. “N’ you saved me.”

A shy smile overtook your lips, which he’d dare say were perfectly shaped. “I did.” There was that voice. You could speak. Oh, and something about your timbre was so unbelievably melodic, a lilted and sweet alto. But he tried to stay on track.

“Why?” Billy’s eyebrows drew together, his forehead creasing as he grimaced. He shook his head a bit, daring to rest his calloused hand over your soft one on his chest. It felt a bit like getting dirt on a diamond, his roughened, fishhook-pierced and rope-scathed fingertips over your gentle knuckles. But the warmth of it was something he wasn’t sure he could move away from.

“It just..” You frowned suddenly, those pretty eyes becoming downcast. The very ends of your eyelashes were blonde against your sun-kissed cheeks, he noticed. “Seemed like the right thing to do. I couldn’t leave you there.”

Billy shook his head, swallowing hard. The painful action twisted his face in a wince. “You could’ve.” He murmured, lifting your hand up to his eyes to squint. He wasn’t sure what he expected. Perfectly normal. Though maybe the webbing twixt your fingers was a bit longer, you could’ve passed as a human woman. Besides the long, oval sharpness to your fingernails. Certainly not like razors, but still.

You seemed to be flattered by his foggy-minded curiosity, because you twisted your hand to hold his, your fingers intertwining. “Well. I didn’t want to.” You cooed in a cheerful, nearly teasing voice.

A heart and soul of a purer kind, Billy thought.

He let a lopsided grin overtake his plush lips, and you mirrored him with the sweetest, most unbelievably beautiful smile he’d ever seen. Christ, he barely— no, he didn’t know you at all, and he was beginning to wonder if he’d throw himself back into the tide at your request.

“How’d you get me breathin’ again?” Billy couldn’t help but ask, a shiver running up his spine at the hollow memory. It had been like water invaded every one of his senses, the life choked out of him excruciatingly. How could he possibly have come back from that?

You hummed in amusement, shrugging your shoulders simply, “a kiss.”

“A kiss?” Billy breathed, his brows lifting. You just hummed affirmatively. He supposed he ought not to question it. Though he sorely regretted missing a kiss from you.

Your free hand was curiously inspecting his own hand, his knuckles, the splay of sand-sprayed hair over his exposed forearms. Maybe it was then that Billy realized you were inspecting him just as curiously as he was watching you.

“I’m Billy.” He breathed after a moment. He wasn’t sure why you’d care to know, but it just slipped out. A part of him desperately hoped that name would mean something to you.

You smiled softly, testing how the name felt on your tongue. “Billy.” You repeated. You rather liked the ring of it. You told him your own name in a lilted voice.

“Suits you.” Was all Billy could manage, his eyes greedily drinking you in, trying to commit you to memory. You shifted a bit, leaning a little further down to him, your wet tresses falling around yours and Billys faces like a silky privacy curtain. Oh, your hair smelled like amber and fresh laundry, Billy wondered how that could even be.

But he was beginning to think that questioning any bit of you was moot.

So Billy was content to stare up at you for a few moments, the sea breeze mussing his hair, sand probably finding its way into the dark locks, catching in his eyelashes. “You a daredevil or something?” It was silly of him to say, he knew, but he couldn’t help trying to draw a laugh out of you. A stupid smile overtook his own lips as a giggle spilled from yours.

“What does that mean?” You shook your head, that warm smile pushing your rosy cheeks up and crescenting your bright eyes. Billy’s mind was hazy still, his voice low and a bit slurred as he shrugged. “S’ a little dangerous, for a mermaid t’be up here, don’t y’think?”

You hummed a little thoughtfully, casting a long glance to the sea. The waves were lapping gently against the sand, cresting and falling languidly yet with purpose. “Maybe.” You pressed your lips, brows lifting. “I think it’s worth the risk.”

Billy grunted in acknowledgement, his eyes still flicking over your face, your sun-tanned and freckled shoulders, your dark tresses (poignantly avoiding your breasts peeking from beneath the strands,) and of course your tail. He wasn’t looking at you like an object to buy or sell for his own gain or pleasure. He was looking at you like a sculpture, like a temple of a religion he’d willingly devote his life to, that he’d willingly pray to and worship.

You just had that effect, you supposed. It wasn’t off putting, but it certainly put a silly, girlish feeling in your stomach and a smile on your face. It was a good feeling, how Billy was admiring you.

“I should go.” You murmured, your eyes flicking back to the tide as you tucked some hair behind your ear. Splitting the curtain. You could guess that the boat would come to port in less than an hour, and surely they’d come looking for Billy. “You should wait at the dock for your crew.”

Billy’s brows drew together, suddenly alarmed by the thought of going away from you. “Will I see you again?” His lips parted over his teeth in a grimace, he shook his head. “I don’t mean t’sound…” No. He discarded the idea of apologizing, of letting you slip through his fingers like water.

“I wanna see you again.” Billy murmured, the sincerity in his sapphire eyes striking. You’d absolutely enchanted this man.

You pressed your lips together again. Could you really trust him? Truly, really trust him enough to meet him again, and risk becoming a horror story to be told to some other little girl? Your curiosity would be the death of you, your mother had always warned. “You may.”

A lopsided smile overtook Billy’s lips, his brows raising. It was better than nothing, he supposed. It’d be silly for him to expect a single thing from you; he was only a man, after all, and you were this ethereal, otherworldly woman. He brought your hand to his lips, kissing the backs of your fingers tenderly.

“Then ‘till I see you again,” Billy mumbled your name nearly reverently, watching as you slipped away from him with a sugar-sweet smile and a twinkle in your eyes. Watching as you disappeared into the tides.

It was very, very possible he’d never see you again. Oh, that thought was like swallowing an anchor. If he never saw you with his own eyes, Billy thought, he’d certainly see you in dreams.

The moment he stepped back onto the Seven Rivers he was met with Bob Ollinger’s scraggly, dog-like face. He was standing beside Jesse, who had a guilty expression. Come to think of it, the whole crew was hardly looking at Billy, like he was a horse with a bad leg or something. Like they all felt guilty for letting Ollinger throw him overboard.

“No hard feelings, Kid?” Ollinger sniffed, curling his ugly lip at Billy. He narrowed his eyes, looking twixt him and Jesse.

“Just a few.” Billy grunted, pushing a hand through his wet hair. Within moments, that strange tension dissolved from the crew, and then came the loads of questions. How had he survived seemed to be the overall sentiment.

Billy could only shrug, give the credit to God. He wasn’t sure why the notion of telling these guys about you felt.. wrong. Perhaps it was his own selfish desire to keep you to himself (though he really never had you,) or perhaps it felt like ratting you out, sending rotten men on your trail. Perhaps both.

A few torturous days passed. Absolutely tortuous.

Billy cast endless longing glances into the waves, hoping with all the strength of his heart that he’d see you. You’d stuck in his mind like glue, enrapturing every crevice with your sweet voice, your kind eyes, your opalescence.

He’d never felt like such a wistful fool. Frankly, he was beginning to wonder if you were a figment of his imagination, that in his dazy, water-logged state he’d been seeing mirages.

In his hopeless effort to hold onto the fleeting memory of you, while the rest of the crew went out drinking in the town pub, Billy stayed back to ‘watch the ship.’ In reality he was slipping off his boots and stuffing his socks into them, rolling up his trousers to mid-calf and walking along the shore.

The moonlight danced on the dark tide, the cold water and sea foam swirling around his feet. The only light was that moonlight, demure and casting the beach in an ethereal glow that was painfully reminiscent of you.

Billy was a fool to think he’d truly see you again, wasn’t he?

He treaded wearily on the sand, his worn boots in hand, his azure eyes flicking twixt the sea and his feet. This must’ve been that siren’s effect, that spell that so many sailors had warned him of. You had such a tight hold on his mind.

Billy thought he was imagining it, those first faint notes. He tried shaking it off, but the further he walked along the water the song only grew louder. An ethereal alto, a voice that could pierce through titanium and straight to a man’s soul.

He began to walk with more purpose. The voice became louder, louder and clearer, your words shining brightly through the notes. He was absolutely certain they were yours.

“And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind,”

“and you know that she will trust you, for you’ve touched her perfect body with her mind.”

“And Jesus was a sailor when he walked upon—“

You stopped singing, that beautiful sound dying in your throat as you felt his presence. You shifted on the rock you’d been sitting on, jutting out from the shore and hanging slightly over the tide. Your tail shone under the moonlight, dancing on your scales and casting them nearly silver. No, not silver. Opal. Pale yet full of color. Billy could tell that much, as you twisted to look at him, dark tresses falling over your back.

Billy approached slowly, as if you’d spook and slip through his fingers again. “S’ you.” He breathed, shaking his head in a bit of disbelief. Oh, the smile that overtook your sweet lips lifted the weight off his heart.

“Little old me.” You hummed, eyes crinkling with mirth. Maybe you sung a little tune on purpose. Maybe you just wanted to lure him close, ‘cause you knew that your angelic voice would reel him in like a sunfish on a fishing line.

Billy sat on the ledge of the rock, setting his worn boots on his other side and leaning to you. You were sprawled across the length of the rock, your tail laid out and your upper half held up by your hands behind you. He twisted to you, you turned to look at him.

“I wanted to see you again, too.” You smiled, relishing in the way those puppy-dog eyes twinkled at you.

Billy chuckled a bit, shaking his head again. He was beaming. You wanted to meet him? “Aren’t I lucky?”

“Why would you be lucky?” You furrow your brows, shifting to fold your tail underneath you and scoot beside him. Billy watched you move, shrugging and trying his best to keep his eyes off your body.

“Ain’t like just any man gets the pleasure of your company.” Billy smiled goofily and lopsided, but his tone was smooth.

You hummed thoughtfully, watching him look out to the ocean. “Well, you aren’t just any man.” In his eyes, there’s not a damn thing about him worth your time. But he’s not seeing himself through yours. You find him unbelievably handsome, rugged yet kind. If you thought him anything like the stories of cruel men, why would you be here with him?

You tell him so. Billy smiles shyly, looking down at his lap and his calloused hands. “I hope m’not.”

“If you try not to be, that already means you aren’t. Not deep down.” You coo. That little smile of his grows into a grin as you reach for his hand, turning it over and pressing a smooth little shell into his palm.

In the moonlight, the soft cream looks almost an ethereal blue. Billy turns it over carefully, as if he’ll crack it. The inside is a rich purple, one that fades into a soft lavender at the edges. “F’me?”

“Mhm.” You can’t resist a giggle. You figured the best way to get acquainted would be a little gift. “If you come back, I could give you more.” You add cheekily, your girlish joy practically glowing from you.

Billy laughs a bit. As if he needs any incentive to want to see you. “Y’know, I don’t need any reason t’come back besides seein’ your face.” He chuckles, looking up at you. Christ, you really are gorgeous. More gorgeous when his mind isn’t waterlogged and his eyes aren’t hazy.

Another smile graces your lips. You bow your head, picking at your fingers in your lap. Your lap of shimmering scales— another reminder of how different you are from this man. You can’t help mumbling, “You barely know me.”

“Y’know, that’s a reason t’come back. T’get t’know you.” Billy coos, tilting his head to meet your eyes. When your brows draw sweetly he adds lowly, “I really, really wanna know you.”

A soft sigh escapes your lips. The way he murmurs those words deeply, the sincerity in his eyes, his undeniable interest in you… Oh, what trouble this could get you in!

But those lips, plush and soft, they’d been calling to you. Butterflies scattered across your stomach, an excited smile creeping across your own lips just before you burst forward and kissed him. Immediately his roughened hand came up to gently cradle your face, his forehead creasing as he kissed you with all the tenderness such a rugged man could muster.

Your lips were as close to heaven as he’d ever get, Billy knew.

You filled his every sense as you had for the past week. But this was much more real. He regretted his need for oxygen, one that you apparently didn’t know he had, since you only chased after his lips until they disconnected. Billy chuckled breathlessly.

You leaned away, a bit sheepish. “Sorry.” Billy just shook his head absentmindedly. His blue eyes twinkled with mirth and awe as you went on with a shy glint in your eye. “I’ve never done that before.”

Billy cracked a grin, a snort leaving his nose as he let his hand fall from your cheek to your bare shoulder. His callouses were a welcome sensation on your smooth skin. “You kiddin’ me?” A giggle bubbled past your lips as you shook your head passionately.

“Well, aren’t I lucky?” Billy breathes, repeating himself and wondering if he looked like a fool, with eyes so bright with admiration for you. But who could blame him? He felt as though he was in the presence of an angel. God, if he was your first kiss, he wanted to be your last.

It was a strange feeling. Perhaps an hour ago Billy resigned to never know the whimsical feeling of your attention again. A blessing, to be allowed to touch you. A blessing to know you. A blessing to be here with you.

You were a blessing of your own. The sea had given him one of her daughters, if only for a moment.

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francixoxoxo · 2 months

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୨ৎ Silver Soul 𓆝 𓆟

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐝

𝐏𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞!𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝 𝐗 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫.

𝐓𝐖: 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄, 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭

Ever since you came into Billy’s life, he began seeing in color.

You made his dreary, murky future feel a bit more appealing. Brighter. His work didn’t seem so gritty when he had your face painted in the walls of his mind. Hell, he whistled while he worked.

You were engraved into his heart like marble, written into the pages of his story. There wasn’t a way around it, you had him under your spell. His mind was filled with memories of your head against his chest, your lilted voice telling him all about yourself, your sisters, your life beyond him, and asking about his own world. The smell of your dark tresses, like sea salt and amber. The smooth warmth of your skin under his calloused palms, the wistful look in your eyes as you gazed up at the sky.

These memories were a comfort while he was away at sea. When he closed his eyes for a brief respite against the bustle of the crew, or the brutal sun beating down on his back as he tied the lines until ropes were burnt into his splintered skin, your face was behind his lids. Hanging over him like a rosary.

Billy found comfort in the image of those rosy cheeks and heart-melting smiles as he sat up in the crows nest. It was a particularly scalding day, he sighed wearily as he pushed his damp hair back, putting his hat back onto the smoothed locks. He held a barometer in his hands, Jesse was a particular stickler about keeping an eye on the air pressure.

Well. Atleast he wasn’t busting his ass on the deck, he thought as his gaze dropped to a few of his crew mates tying lines, mopping the wood and, what truly made Billy grin, Ollinger’s punishment of re-nailing the uneven screws in the floorboards. Served that bastard right.

“Feel sorry f’ya mama, Kid.” Bob had snorted, shaking his head as he leaned over the deck on his elbows. He was smoking from a pipe, the putrid smell curling Billy’s lip. He barely remembers what biting remark he even spat at the older man. Not like it made a difference.

“All that trouble f’ya t’just end up here?” Ollinger whistled, shaking his head. Billy’s nostrils flared. White hot anger was clawing at his core, toiling like a storm under his skin. “I bet that poor mick is rollin’ in ‘er grave.”

Billy drags a hand over his eyes and down his face, sighing heavily. The worst part was that Ollinger was probably right. His mother probably wouldn’t be happy with the path her son set out on. Well, her son wasn’t too pleased with himself either, so nobody’s happy.

He dreams of running off with you. He’s not even sure how it’d work. Maybe he’d build a special house for the two of you, half in the water and half above the ground. Billy would find a way. His future was brighter because you had come into his life, because there wasn’t a possible future for him without you in it. He’d live out of a dingy if it meant he could hold you close at night, live beside you, no matter what he had to do. If he could, he’d cut himself gills to live in your world.

From what you’ve told him, it’s a hell of a lot better than Billy’s world of gypsies, tramps and thieves. Of pirates and pillagers, rotten crooks and wry thieves.

Billy’s so caught up in his own head that he doesn’t notice the commotion on the deck below. It’s not until Dick calls up to him, climbing up the rope ladder halfway to get his attention, “Billy! Billy, come on down! You gotta see!”

“See what?” Billy whirled around, his forehead creasing as he peers down at his crewmate. But he’s already focusing on climbing down. He doesn’t even think to look out from the crows nest to see what’s going on down there before he’s coming down the ladder.

About halfway down he throws his head over his shoulder, the crew is crowded around the object of their attention, nearly blocking it from his view. But Billy’s got the altitude to see, and he nearly loses his grip on the ladder. His sapphire eyes are buggy and wild, his chest heaving in a raw kind of fear.

Writhing in a net, crying like a baby, a woman with dark hair, struggling ‘gainst the ropes as they scathe her bare skin. Her hips melt into iridescent scales. A mermaid.

A mermaid, caught in a net.

A mermaid, surrounded by pirates.

A mermaid, laughed and poked at as she cries.

Billy practically falls down the ladder more than he climbs down. He’s shoving aside his crew, gaping at the mermaid. He lets out a breath upon seeing that no, it’s not you, but it’s still a mermaid. Still somebody just like you, with lighter eyes and paler cheeks and darker scales, but just like you.

“Jess— Jesse, Jesse, what’re y’doin’? What’s this?” Billy scrambles to Jesse, the captain, the one eyeing the mermaid like a blank check to cash in.

A grin split Jesse’s face. “Bucket o’gold, Billy, that’s what this is!” Billy follows the blonde’s gaze to the mermaid again, terror painting her features. Her eyes are glassy and wide, trained on him. It puts bugs under his skin but he can’t make himself look away.

“What.. what d’you mean, Jesse, what’s.. What’re we doin’?” Billy feels as though his head is clouded, his mind hazy and his thoughts narrow. His eyes are buggy with a visceral horror.

Jesse does a double take to the younger man. “Well, what d’ya do when y’catch a mermaid?” The blonde grimaces as if Billy is the strange one here. Billy shakes his head, his voice dead in his throat, cut off by Jesse anyway, “Dick, Dick, nah, that ain’t good karma. C’mon now.”

“What?” Billy whips his head to look at his crewmate, wielding a cutlass with a slight curve to it. Like a scythe, he thinks lamely, picking the words out from the murky water he’s trudging in. The mermaid can’t seem to stop crying, saltwater pouring down her cherub cheeks as her chest heaves and brow furrows. She hardly notices as Dick undoes the ropes, looking up at Jesse, ignoring Billy completely.

“I thought they ain’t feel pain?” Dick huffed, carefully bringing the sword to the mermaid’s nape. Billy can’t tear his boots from their spot on the deck, he can’t move, he wants to scream for him to stop, but his tongue is cut from his mouth. He makes eye contact again with the woman.

“I think they do, heard somebody say they scream like crazy,” another crew member shrugged, Jesse grunting in agreement.

“Jess.. Jess, please, we ain’t gotta..” Billy pleads, turning to Jesse again with pleading eyes. Jesse shoots him a look with a sharp and clear purpose. Be quiet and don’t mess this up.

Her eyes are round and hazel, pleading for something he knows he could give, Billy knows he could do something, but at he same time he can’t. He can’t do a damn thing. And he knows he’ll hate himself to the day they pour dirt over his grave for it. “I mean, it’s kinda gruesome t’get straight to it anyhow.” Dick muses, as if they’re talking about how they take their tea.

“Get straight to what?” Billy breathes, blinking some haze from his vision. He can’t break away from the mermaid’s stare. Still, nobody is hearing the soft voice of the youngest man in their midst.

The blade moves, swipes, Billy’s eyes begin to water, because all he can see as he’s looking into this mermaid’s eyes is humanity.

How strange is that? To find something so human, something so familiar in somebody so mythical. Somebody nobody on this boat can find even a little bit of sympathy for.

(Would they find sympathy for you?)

Dick is clutching her locks in his hand a moment later, a whimper passing the woman’s lips. She wraps her own arms around herself tighter as the conversation about her body continues to pass around the men. “‘Cause the hair’s good luck.” Jesse explains beside Billy, an excited smile parting his lips.

Billy feels a sickening bile rising up his throat as he listens to the last wail the mermaid lets slip from her pinkened lips, the sound like a drizzle crashing into heavy, oppressive sheets of rain. Dick is pressing the blade against her jugular, her weeping dying in the air as the cutlass slices through her skin like a fin through water, vermillion and like sea foam bubbling at the crevice in her throat, staining the deck maroon.

He’s dizzy with it all, watching but not seeing thick blood spill. A brighter color than human blood, he thinks quite lamely. A passionate vermillion.

(What had her name been? Everything has a name, even when it leaves this world, but Billy supposes every name must also be forgotten.)

Billy blinks, granting tears passage down his cheeks. Jesse hasn’t a word to breathe about it.

(Was your blood that same hue? He didn’t want to know.)

Dick hands the cutlass off to Ollinger, Billy watches through hazy eyes, eyes that hardly feel like his own. The cutlass connects with her hip, where scale meets taupe skin, the sickening sound of blade cutting through tendon, bone and tissue. Sickeningly slow, the sword's wielder struggling to wedge the blade twixt her bones, wriggling the metal, cursing and shaking off a crewmate who offers his help. Skin tears like ripped linen and organs peeking like pearls in an oyster. Bile rises up Billy's throat, boots thump on wood, he vomits over the deck as screws his sapphire eyes shut to ignore the contents of his stomach floating away on the surface of the water like a carcass.

Her eyes are permanent carvings on the back of his eyelids, her weeping etched into his mind like the grooves of a music box's drum. Vermillion is a color that paints each crevice of his brain, the sight of a knife gutting a living, almost human being like a fish something no drink can wash away.

Billy feels a familiar ache for your warm hands on his arms, your fingertips scrubbing discontentment from his skin.

(Why didn't he do anything?)

But with a crashing wave of perturbation, some horrific thought is unearthed. What great danger is he putting you in, for his own selfish yearning for you? His love was a death sentence.

(Did you know the risks? Did you have any idea of what macabre gutting he just witnessed?)

All Billy knows, as his lips part to throw more bile into the rushing sea, is that he'd never forgive himself. You might. God may. But he would throw himself into the ocean, his body limp and resigned, he'd wave off passersby and call, "There ain't a point for me no more." He'd slit his arms vertical-like and let his body decompose into the sand, let the seagulls make dinner of his sun-freckled skin.

He's hunched over the railing like a beggar, purging his body of everything ailed until the only disease remains in his mind, behind his eyes, in shades of gray and striking vermillion. There is only one way, he decides, to keep his woman safe. To keep her eyes bright and her hair flowing, her heart content and most importantly beating. Billy will live with a broken heart if it means your own will go on.

A woman's body, mutilated and stained, cut at the hip and at the hair, crashes into the ocean like discarded refuse and sends sea spray into Billy's eyes.

It was the third day you laid in the sand, closing your eyes against the sun, perking your ears to the seagull's cawing and disappointing yourself with every glance down the shore.

Billy hadn't come to you in three days since his ship docked. You knew for yourself The Seven Rivers was at port, you'd watched it come into harbor with your own eyes. A handful of shells were clutched in your hand, your thumb brushing thoughtfully over the delicate ridges of one in particular. So very many questions had piled up in the corners of your mind. What were these spots and blotches appearing on your arms and shoulders? Your skin had been red and angry for a day, but now it was darkened, why was that? A word in one of the novels he'd given you; Totalitarianism, what did that mean?

But they all went unanswered, as the third day came and went listlessly. You watched the sun as it reclined in the sky, worry embedding itself into the deeper recesses of your heart. Could something have happened to him? Was he held up somewhere? You didn't want to consider that maybe, just maybe, he didn't want to meet you. Perhaps he was tired of you now, he'd had his fill, and moved on. Moved onto a girl he could hold in the night, a girl who fit better with him. A human girl.

The thought sent a shiver down your spine. You weren't sure what possessed you that night, the pearlescent moonlight drizzling over the basin of the sea or the unease brewing in your gut, willing you to glide through the navy waters, coaxing the bravery out of you as you swim to the marina, find his crew's boat, search for a slat in the side of the hull. What are you thinking, you wonder lamely as you peer over the desk, relieved that Billy'd been truthful when he told you he often took the night shift on deck. He'd admitted to you that it gave him a moment's respite to think. You feel a swell of relief at seeing his handsome face, illuminated by the moon as his eyes turn up to meet her demure light halfway.

But the relief doesn't come unscathed by the prying hands of doubt, her fingernails digging crescent moons into your arms. If he was alive, well and free, then why hadn't he come to see you? The Billy you loved wouldn't spend a moment away from you if he didn't have to. Unless his love had waned? Unless his heart was turning to face another's? Unless he didn't want you anymore?

You swallowed down a dry sob, the very thought of such a tender love being gifted to you just to be torn from your hands was earth shattering. Billy wouldn't just be stolen from your grip, but ripped from your heart, the deep sutures keeping him stitched into the fabric of your being ripped apart for you to bleed away, sink to the bottom of the sea. The worst part? He'd still be out there, out somewhere in the world, just not with you. Living, but not at your side. Existing, just out of reach.

Your name spoken in a hushed tone snapped you out of your thoughts. You lift your gaze from the wood of the deck to see Billy's large frame looming over you, those sapphire eyes bright even when swaddled in the darkness of midnight. They dart over you, you think you see a shine to them, before he reaches over the railing to lift you by under the arms. You don't protest as he hoists you to sit on the railing. Billy's hands clutch at your arms long after you're steady, your name falling from his lips again like a prayer.

"You're here." He breathed, his brows lifting and a faint smile crossing his lips. His hands smooth over your arms as if to assure himself you're material, you won't blow away like sand under his fingers.

You nodded simply, a strange feeling brewing. A feeling you've never had to name before now, and now that the time's come, you aren't sure what to call it. "Where have you been, Billy?" His expression falters at your whisper. "I've been waiting for you, and you never came."

Billy shakes his head, lips pressing almost nervously. "I couldn't. M' sorry, I wanted to, but... you shouldn't be here." You could name the feeling now as it licked at your insides like flame. Indignation.

"What do you mean?" You huff, curling your lip and drawing your brows.

Billy throws a glance over his shoulder as if he expects a bear to come up from the depths of the boat, ignoring your question. “You need to go, baby.”

When he turns back to you, his eyes avoid yours. Could his sentiments have changed so quickly that he can hardly look at you? It's oil on the fire in your belly. "You could have at least told me to my face if you didn't want this anymore!"

You watch as horror plays across Billy's face. His eyes, the deepest cerulean, a color you'd found endless comfort in, are buggy and wide as they fall on yours, his nostrils flaring, you guess to fight off the growing shine of those eyes. He shakes his head adamantly, hands roaming upward, one to your shoulder, the other to the back of your head, finger's carded in your wet hair. "I'll want you forever. You won't get it, baby, that's fine, but even when you ain't with me, you're with me. I love you more than anything in this world. Don't you doubt that."

There he goes. It's a bucket of ice water, dousing your anger, replacing it with a shiver. You wrap your arms around yourself, discovering that dripping hair and wet skin didn't bode well against the cold night's wind. You think Billy might kiss you, might press his lips to yours in the flurry aftermath of his confession, but he only stares. After a moment he pulls away from you, to your dismay, shrugging off the maroon cardigan over his button-up. Tenderly, with a lingering brush of fingers against your shoulders, he pulls the warm fabric around you. You murmur a soft thanks, he only nods.

"If you love me," Billy nods once again, taking the chance to wrap his arms around you, your tail wetting the calf of his trousers, "then why haven't you come to see me? I thought.. I thought you didn't like me anymore. Or that you'd been hurt." You whisper, your cheek finding a home on his shoulder.

Billy's strong palm rubs up and down your back over the cardigan, his other hand pulling your hair out of the neck and combing his hands through the tresses. Oh, how you missed those hands. You watch his Adams apple bob as he swallows hard, his voice gruff, "I just... I don't wanna put you in danger, sugar."

"Danger?" You snake your own arms around his back, feeling the firm expanse of him. Finding comfort in it.

"I..." Billy hesitates a moment before he goes on, his resolve melting away in your presence. "I saw somethin'. The other day. N'.. It was terrible." A soft breath is sighed into your hair. Your hand drifts to his arm, squeezing him in what you hope is a comforting gesture. "I can't stop thinkin' 'bout it." Billy admits in a whisper.

You push your cheek closer to his neck, his stubble scratching your forehead, a familiar and warm sensation. "What'd you see?"

The air is silent as the night is navy. Billy holds you just a bit closer to his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head. You were strong, you could handle the truth of the image stained behind Billy's eyelids. But an overwhelming need to keep you safe from the world surges in him, a duty to trim all thorns that could prick you. In fact, he knows he'd let you use his own chest as a shield, take a bullet, an arrow, a cannonball, it truly didn't matter to him; if it was for you, he would swallow them all.

He simply can't choke out the words. You'd want nothing to do with him after they broke the threshold of his lips. He can bear it on his own, he tells himself. "You don't wanna know."

A frown creases your face. You pull away from his chest, it feels like tugging at two magnets. "If it's about me, then I need to know." You murmur, shaking your head. Your hands roam over his shoulders aimlessly until they find themselves cupping his face. Billy's gaze falls, avoiding yours. Absently he draws his cardigan closer around your frame, thought tightening his expression. "What'd you see, Billy?"

Your thumb rubbing over the stubble on his cheek crumbles his resolve as if it had been made of nothing. Nothing at all, in the face of your gentle soul. "They caught a mermaid." Billy's eyes search yours for a sign that you might show him mercy, let his voice die in his throat. You don't, and so he goes on. "N' killed her. Slit her throat and they.. Cut 'er at the hip. Jesse's finding a buyer for the tail."

You feel, suddenly, like you swallowed an anchor. Your face goes lax, but the rest of you tense. Billy nods, whispers lowly and draws you back into his arms, "I know, I know, baby." He nestles a kiss into your hair. "I know."

It put a feeling under your skin that you couldn't scrub away; you had a price tag. Men'd kill you and sell you like an animal, like you hadn't a heart to feel, eyes to see, a mind to wonder. How could it be? Billy held you like a bird, a hollow-boned and delicate little thing, yet what he told you confirmed your mother's warnings. Men were vicious creatures, money clouding their sense. In a sea of dirt and pollution, your Billy was a sapphire.

You hadn't realized just how rare of a thing you possessed until now.

"Is that why.. You stopped coming?" You whisper against the fabric of his button-up, his musk filling your nostrils soothingly. Billy grunts in confirmation. Another kiss is dropped to your scalp.

"S' safer for you, sweet girl." Billy mumbles, though you hear the reluctance. "M' bad news."

"Is it wrong to say I don't care?" You fist your hands in his shirt, the material soft under your grip. He sighs your name, you can sense the impending conversation, so you rush to cut him off. "I don't want to be without you. I don't care what the risks are."

"I care," Billy huffs, but he only holds you tighter. "I don't want to ever, ever see you in a net. I'd-- I'd kill myself before I let that happen."

You lift your head from his chest. His aquiline nose bumps yours as he looks down at you, his brows drawn taut. "Then we'll be careful."

"Baby-"

"No. I'm not letting this go. Not letting you go." You shake your head hurriedly. Your voice is firmer than you thought it could possibly be. Billy's eyes dart twixt yours, his lips pressing together.

"You know what you're riskin'." He murmurs, his calloused fingers brushing a wild strand of hair behind your ear. You nod. "And you still wanna be with me? You'd still choose me?" Billy huffs, eyebrows lifted and a faint, almost self-deprecating smile playing at his lips.

You allow a smile to grow on your cheeks. Because it's true, true from the deepest crevice of your heart, true from the furthest reaches of your soul. Of all the things you've found on the Earth, of all the flowers, of all the birds, of the sun, moon and the constellations, this is the most precious thing. This was something worth dying for, you thought with a rosy lightness as you press a kiss to Billy’s lips.

Every time, the kiss said. Put a million beautiful things at my feet, and I will choose you, every time.

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