Warmth was all he felt. He was laying on something soft. A grumble escaped him, his chest rising as he took a breath, which made his mind awake slightly. He frowned, feeling his back slightly heated, the air around him hot.

His eyelids moved, his gaze lidded; he was slightly blinded by the sun looming above him. It was what was making him sweat. A low snarl escaped him, finally feeling the now blazing sand, his skin not burned thanks to the fact that he was wearing his jacket. The heat of the sun was making it difficult to think. But think he did, as he slowly sat up.

Matthew stared ahead, confused. It took him some seconds to realize he had fallen asleep. After a few baffled blinks, he looked down at his hand. The next thing he did was call himself stupid, mentally; he really had not planned to lay there all night. He had not been thinking clearly then, definitely not himself.

He was slightly surprised, however. The water should have dragged him; something not pleasant to think of now that he did so more carefully. His clothes… they were only slightly wet; only his pants, his shirt and lower part of his jacket. It was strange.

He really was not thinking right, and he surely calculated wrong. The water did not raise enough.

Thank god.

He buried his face on his hand, letting out a long tired huff, brushing his eyes for good measure. There was still a noose in his throat. It did not help that he had been resting on the sand all night.

Matthew groaned, letting his hand fall at his side, to finally help himself stand and leave before Ethan noticed anything. But he blinked instead. His fingers felt something.

He stared down, his eyes widening slowly. A conch was there, right at his side; he could swear on his life that it was not there before. Not yesterday. And it looked… exactly the same. It looked like the one the mermaid held while she yelled at him, menacing to throw it.

Matthew’s breathing fastened, a sudden thought gripping him again. He stood, cowering from it slowly.

He cowered from the sight of the conch, from the waves ahead; from everything. No matter how he shook his head, the sight did not go away. The water was omnipresent, much like the dread he felt.

He could swear he had not woken up where he let himself fall; he was too far away from the waves. But that couldn’t be. There was no one. No one was there but him.

His eyes could not stop looking at the conch, which almost seemed to have been left there, intentionally. There were no traces of sand over it, only slight drops of water on its clear surface.

It can’t be.

He ran up the stairs back to the small road, panting for breath, trying to deny it all for dear life. His mind tried to push it all away, everything. The fact that he could be crazy, the fact it could be real. It was one of the two. It couldn’t be nothing.

————-

The dog kept on glaring. Her eyes were fixed on the back of his neck, still bitter that he had kept her inside when she tried to stop him from going out under those dark clouds. But no matter how she growled silently or glared, Matthew just kept his gaze on the computer screen.

His eyes watched intently, his hand hovering over the mouse and keyboard, trailing everything. After some minutes, he leaned back and let out a long sigh, in order to contemplate the images. A gray tail, another black and white; exactly what he saw. Millions of photos showed on his screen, all portraying dolphins and orcas.

He typed again, and his eyes narrowed in frustration. He sat there for hours, skipping the walk of the day, not in the mood for it. No matter how he searched the net, he couldn’t find it.

He stared with apprehension at all the mermaids displayed, all having different tails. However, all were scaly, not soft. They barely looked like what he saw. All resembled fishtails, not the ones of mammals. The fins he saw were slender, firm. No scales, all skin.

There was not a single mermaid on the internet that resembled the ones he saw.

Matthew held two fingers onto his forehead, letting out a loud huff, slumping against his chair.

“My mind has to be this weird.”

He could not imagine normal things, hell no. He had to come up with the most bizarre of hallucinations, never following the norm.

Maybe his mind was blocking things. Perhaps he almost drowned last night due to his outburst. And to deny it, he picked up a conch… and… And it did not make any sense at all.

There was no way he managed to retrieve that conch. It was impossible for him to walk all the way to those black rocks without falling down exhausted. He was tired enough in the last moment he could recall. He did not carry that conch from home, for sure.

Someone left that thing there. Someone dragged him back onto the sand. But it could not have been those two merfolk. It couldn’t be that. It had to be him, or something else. There had to be a logical explanation.

They do not exist.

“Do they?”

—————-

“He’s back.”

Iara nodded slowly while she leaned onto Alon’s shoulders, peeking through the water behind him.

“I was beginning to worry.”

Alon looked up at her, sighing.

“He does not come back for a day and you worry?”

She pouted down at him and raised an eyebrow, her tail swaying.

“I thought you finally saw how miserable he feels, Alon.”

He looked down and crossed his arms, his tail moving nervously.

“I- I know but…” He frowned, growing quiet. “Iara, we should not be dealing with humans. He is human. We prevented him from drowning because of his careless snores. And we can leave it at that. That’s it, he will be fine!”

She leaned her head, seeing clearly the brunet’s figure, down again on the sand, staring at the white clouds, his arm outstretched outwards. He was lying sprawled, uncaring of how a dog pawed at him insistently. His only action was to grumble, unfazed by the nudges. It was definitely not a surge like the one they saw, but it was surely not fine.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” She swam around Alon to face him, her voice kind. “Al, remember how you told me that some merfolk judge you?”

He was taken aback, his hands rising up to his chest, for him to fumble with them.

“Y-yes? What does this have to do with-?“

“He has helped us out. He has not told anyone. It is obvious he is coming back looking for us. But not to hunt us. He is harmless, and yet you keep on thinking he can kill us or something. You are judging him.”

“…” Alon’s eyes softened, showing pure concern; but for her. “It’s different.”

She shook her head, smiling sadly.

“No, it’s not.”

He did not stop her from swimming closer to the beach, her tail moving calmly. He did not say a word, not wanting to admit he was worried himself.

Merfolk were kind and curious souls. Much like the human was.

His hazel eyes were fixated with the sky, lidded in exasperation, not really looking at the sun or clouds. He was lying at a fair distance from the waves; he would not dare near them again.

He did not want to look for anything. He did not want to even walk. Today, he would just lie there, quietly, away from town. The sea’s echoes would reach him anywhere in the cay, so there was no reason to not be by it. At the beach, at least he could avoid being mocked, scolded or told down.

The waves didn’t patronize him. They were as annoying, sure, but if he just closed his eyes and tried to forget the sound of the storm in his head, they were almost calming. He could pretend there was silence, that there was nothing. That he was sane. There were no visions.

There are no-

Something fell right at his side. He yelped loudly and sat up with a jolt when something ended its roll beside him, softly. As he looked down, he realized it was another shell; different, but unmistakably wet, rolling all on its own.

Or thrown.

Matthew whipped his head, glaring all around, his hand clenching as his teeth did. Surely, there had to be someone trying to hide near some rocks, maybe up the stairs. The first thought that crossed his mind was of the morons with whom he had gone to high school with, who loved to mess around to this very day.

But he was alone, and he remembered that those idiots only roamed the streets and the northern beach. There was no one there at the beach, ever. This one was always deserted. The road leading to it was not meant for vehicles, too narrow and full of holes.

Matthew gulped, shivering; because Shamira had left his side while he looked around. The dog was sitting by the waves now, barking with excitement, tail waving.

The shell did not come rolling from his sides or from behind him. It came rolling from the waves.

He trembled, screaming internally as he finally spotted the azure eyes in the water. They were staring at him intently, sharply, much like the red ones he saw. There was a smile, but he could not focus on it; he could not ponder the difference in that expression. It was not a hungry one, but a calm warm one.

They both stared. Until Iara grew tired of waiting and of him just looking at her like she had something on her face. Matthew almost had a heart attack when her mouth came out of water, her voice friendly.

“I see you kept your word, human.”

Her voice was soft, yet he did not dwell on it. Iara blinked, floating there poker-faced, baffled as Matthew began to laugh. She soon frowned, hearing the laughter turn into a troubled breath. And she could only flinch when the brunet dropped back onto the sand with a thud. Then, she heard a splash behind her.

“Oh god, Iara!” She looked over her shoulder tiredly, Alon there. His upper half was out of the water, his hands slamming onto his hair as he panicked. “I told you it was not a good idea! You’ve killed him!”

She rolled her eyes, sighing. Alon blinked when she pointed her tail, proving a point.

“He is not dead! His chest is rising and falling! And his hand is up!”

Alon lowered his hands. Indeed, he could see. He was alive. But certainly not alright… Matthew was murmuring between quick breaths, covering tightly his eyes. He was preventing himself of seeing, mumbling over and over again.

“Not real, not real, you are not fucking real! I’m just dreaming to block traumatic events, my mind is making things up to make up for the memory gaps, and it must be the after-effects of the meds, not real! Not real, you don’t exist, you are not re-!”

Matthew grew silent with a wince, the voices feeling too real again, blocking his.

“Oh! Excuse me, but I’m very much real!”

“Iara!”

Matthew took a deep raspy breath, moving away his hand from his eyes. Then, he sat up slowly, all emotion going away from his face, a sudden calmness gripping him while he stared at the mermaid. She was right there, closer; her torso was lying out of water on the sand, just were the waves broke. Her body had a playful stance, the tip of her tail swaying slightly upwards, a confident smile on her lips. Her azure eyes were fixed on his.

Shamira was at Iara’s side, her eyes showing trust, even joy. Alon kept his distance, his long fin shivering when he saw the Matthew glare suddenly, his body tensing.

“…” He growled, shaking his head; sudden cold anger flowed in him. “No. You are not real!”

Alon raised a hand in slight nervousness, seeing Iara huff back, offended. But not as angry, however, even if more intimidating.

“Yes, I am! Very much real!”

Alon sunk faintly and slowly, the other two now screaming, making him fall silent. There was no way he would dare get in between their argument.

“You’re not!”

She gave a slight kick to the sand and water, making drops splash, getting out a bark from Shamira.

“I am!”

“No!”

Alon was now underwater, yet he was still able to hear them.

“Yes!”

“NO!”

Iara smirked, suddenly changing her tone, slightly mocking.

“…No.”

Matthew growled, slamming his fist at his side, leaning a little forward as he yelled firmly and blindly.

“Yes!”

Both merfolk watched while the human glared. But he blinked next, his frown loosening into a baffled expression. What he said slowly dawned, making him stare dumb-faced. It was soon gone, both worrying when he let out a trembling sigh, his arm moving to hold himself again. Now he looked at them without a clue, almost questioning.

So, Iara leaned her head, looking up at the sky with a thoughtful look. Alon and Matthew could only watch while her tail waved and her arm outstretched forward, hand out. Her voice was kind, calling.

“If you really think I’m not real, why don’t you come here… and see for yourself?” She laughed and shook her head, all ever playful. “I don’t bite!”

She had been joking. But those words only made Matthew stand up and back away. Her eyes lost their cheerfulness when she saw him retreat, his gaze fixed on her, full of wariness. His mind deemed her voice the one of a siren. Much like the one portrayed in that book; calling, to reach him.

“No.” The waves seemed to grow louder, rendering him unable to hear his own voice. “I- I have felt that touch before. You aren’t real. It’s only a dream.”

Her tail dropped down sadly, like her arm did. There was nothing she could do while he walked up the stairs; he was not even hurrying, his steps angry. His eyes were full of denial, resignation. And so he went away, out of sight.

Shamira could only whimper, fidgeting at her side, not wanting to leave yet. Nonetheless, the dog made a choice. Both merfolk frowned when she bolted away, running after the human. Her worried barks echoed, soon fading away in the distance, like his steps.

Iara laid there, her eyes narrowing with concern and determination. She did not look back when Alon crawled to her side, calling for her to come back into the water.

“Leave it, Iara. You were right, he does not believe himself.”

She nodded, noticing well the stubborn denial. But she was real, she was.

“He wants to believe. He needs to.”

And she could prove it.