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Come to me, come closer.
The merman is beautiful, with locks of golden hair and a shy, hesitant smile. His hair shimmers under the glow of the evening sun, and he cocks his head to one side, as if to ask if Jenson would like to come into the water with him.
'Not with your kind,' Jenson says with a laugh, and the merman frowns, looking puzzled. 'Got beeswax in my ears. Not hearing anything.'
The merman pouts, and Jenson feels his resolve crumbling.
'Not working on me,' Jenson says, shaking his head, but he's intrigued. This merman's different from the others, who'd swim around his boat, flicking their fish tails about, splashing water at him. The mermaids would rise out of the water, with beguiling looks in their eyes and knowing smirks on their lips as they put their hair behind their shoulders, revealing shapely breasts. Not to be outdone, the mermen would send him flirtatious looks, and Jenson would watch, spellbound as water slides down their lithe, pale bodies as they swim closer to his boat. I can give you anything, their lips would read, and Jenson would smile and force himself to look away, because he knows that all they can give him is death underwater.
This merman, however, seems content to look at him, with a strange sort of expression on his face. Jenson knows that he ought to be getting his boat away from here, before more appear in the waters and threaten to overwhelm his boat, but at the same time, he's curious about this particular merman, looking a little lost in these waters. He supposes that if the merman had meant to attack him, he would've done so already. For now, he's still safe. 'What's the matter?' he asks, crouching down by the side of his boat, and the merman swims closer. He knows it's stupid for him to be talking to a merman, because listening to any answer would put him immediately under the merman's spell. But at the same time he wants to know more. This merman isn't asking for attention like merfolk usually would. He looks at Jenson with eyes that seem to say that he would be more than satisfied if he could spend all eternity watching him.
The merman licks his lips, eyes darting to the water and back to Jenson again, almost as if he's wondering if he should return to the comfort of the sea. Jenson wonders why he hesitates, and his gaze drops to the merman's shoulders, an ugly, red wound marring the pale, milky skin.
Jenson wonders where the merman had gotten the wound. It looks fresh, and Jenson leans forward, reaching out to touch him although he knows that he should be backing away.
The merman flinches when Jenson's fingertips brush against his shoulder, but he doesn't sink lower into the water. The merman's skin is cold to Jenson's touch, but the wound burns him, and he withdraws his hand hastily.
'You're hurt,' Jenson says, wondering if human balms would soothe the wounds of the merfolk. Perhaps it would. He doesn't really know. The merman offers him a sheepish sort of smile, as if to say that his injury had been his own fault, and Jenson catches sight of the merman's teeth. They're normal, unlike the sharp, jagged kind that the merfolk have. The wound makes sense now, in a way. This merman, for all his beauty, is probably nothing more than an outcast. There's a cut on the merman's cheek, and if he looks closely, he'd be able to see the faint bruises on his shoulders. Jenson shudders, not willing to think of the other injuries the merman might have.
(At the back of Jenson's mind, he thinks people like to mar things that are beautiful, but at the same time this isn't it, god only knows what the merfolk really do to one another but he has never seen a merman this damaged before, for they are proud creatures, they flaunt their beauty and wear their apparent flawlessness with pride)
It takes a while before Jenson realises that the merman is staring at his hand, or, more specifically, the cut on his hand. He had gotten it earlier in the day, accidentally injuring himself with a fishing hook, and while the bleeding had stopped, the injury had still been there. Jenson looks at the merman, mouth dry. 'You're not going to pull me in, are you?' he asks, although he knows that the question is redundant. His heart is beating hard and fast against his ribs. Part of him thinks that he doesn't want to die like this, while another part of him thinks that he'd gladly leave the world of the living if Death is this beautiful. The merman tears his eyes away from Jenson's hand, and looks into his eyes, and Jenson blinks, startled.
Jenson doesn't expect the merman to put one hand on the edge of his boat and hoist himself up. The merman puts a finger on Jenson's lips, and Jenson's frozen to the spot, in both shock and fascination. The merman looks at him, green eyes imploring. He doesn't speak, and Jenson wonders why. Because he knows that in the end, all the merfolk wish to do is to pull him to the bottom of the ocean and feast on his meat, and the best way to do it would be to lure him in with their song. This is all going to end now, it's all his fault for not escaping when he had had the chance to. But then again, maybe...
'You can't speak?' Jenson asks. His eyes trail down the merman's body involuntarily. There's a wound on his side, it looks like the merman had been through a terrible fight with something, probably other merfolk, judging from the nasty bites he's got too, and Jenson flinches when he sees it. The merman's arms are toned, but they tremble as he struggles to keep his balance, and then he's sliding down, back into the water again with a mournful look on his face.
The merman takes one last lingering look at Jenson before he disappears beneath the surface of the water, diving, and all Jenson is left with is the image of his shimmering fish tail slowly sinking into the dark, murky depths.
