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The sea’s particularly scenic at night, with the city lights dispersed into fading ripples, and the moon and stars reflected on the horizon. The water’s still, tranquil, and that’s supposed to be a good thing, but a part of Jiuming’s waiting for a telltale grey sliver to emerge in the distance. It doesn’t. It never does. He’s had enough excitement for a lifetime and should be relieved to have made it out alive, into peaceful days.
He hears the French doors slide open behind him, and the putter of sandals on the sturdy wooden deck. He’s leaning on the railing but retreats to one of three beach chairs sprawled around the thin walkway. Jonas takes a second—the third’s Meiying’s. Setting a bottle of wine on a little white table and pouring one of two glasses, Jonas grunts, “The kid’s asleep,” like they’ve got a toddler instead of a full-grown teenager. He passes the first glass over, and Jiuming graciously accepts. He waits for Jonas to pour his own before swirling it around and taking the first sip.
He’s got Jonas in his sights, the house on one side and the water on the other, and the view’s just fine, but he can’t help itching to turn and re-scan the skyline. He doesn’t, but instead suggests, “Next year, we should go on a cruise.”
Jonas pauses mid-sip, choking for a second and coughing it out. He predictably answers, “Fuck no.”
Jiuming innocent bats his eyes and chimes, “Why not?”
Jonas look at him like he’s absurd, which is fair, and growls, “You know damn well why not—those are terrible for the environment.”
And they’re a house that cares about the environment, the oceans especially, and Jiuming knows and cares too but reasons: “They’re not stopping any time soon, and it’s not as if we haven’t earned any good karma in that department. Besides, it’s a good way to see more of the ocean...”
Jonas squints, the hard angles of his face pinching into something rough, a look that would be scary if Jiuming didn’t mind it rough and didn’t like Jonas just how he is, battle-scars and all. Jiuming smiles like that’s all he’s thinking—what a handsome, crazy beast of a man he’s wound up with, and no ulterior motives under it. He’s always had a good poker face.
Jonas has a better eye for bullshit and reads right through him. “You wanna go look for that damn shark again, don’t you.”
It’s not a question so much as an accusation. Jiuming shrugs. “Hey, you can’t expect me to just give up on something I raised.”
Jonas scoffs and nods towards the house, the one they’ve settled into between projects, while they’re still scrambling in the financial and corporate aftermath of losing half his station and subs and a villainous business partner. Given all the chaos, it’s a wonder they’re as stable as they are, both physically and mentally—it’s a blessing they all still love the water, after all it’s taken from them. Jonas gestures at what they have left and quips, “I’m sorry, am I raising Meiying by myself here?”
Jiuming rolls his eyes. He obviously wasn’t comparing them.
Jonas needles, “We can adopt another one if you need two that bad.”
Jiuming snorts. “It wouldn’t be the same.” Not that he hasn’t thought about it, for different reasons—Meiying’s getting older, and he missed out on all her younger years, all the cutest firsts, and he and Jonas aren’t spring chickens themselves. It’d probably be irresponsible to suck in another life, not just for their age, but their lifestyle and Jonas’ penchant for problems. He looks at Jiuming like Jiuming’s the crazed vigilante sneaking onto illegal rigs in the name of aquatic justice. On the other hand, they could always adopt someone already stuck in a ravaged post-climate-change world, and maybe a crazy family could be better than no family. But there’s a lot to consider. “Besides, what if we got a small one, and it grew up to hate the water?”
Brow furrowing like he can’t comprehend how anyone ever could, Jonas offers a disgruntled, “We kick ‘em out.” Which makes Jiuming raise both eyebrows back.
“You know I can’t make a family black sheep like that.”
“Okay, so how about we focus on the human kid we have instead of the prehistoric monster one that tried to kill us?”
Not a monster. But Jiuming knows that’s a losing argument so counters, “Or we could buy a boat.”
Jonas gives him a flat look, an obvious ‘no’, even though they’ll inevitably wind up with one anyway—the last venture was a disaster, but Jiuming’s not out of money yet and doesn’t give up so easy. And Jonas can’t keep his hands off trouble. Jiuming takes a sip of wine while he formulates his argument—why they all need to be out there; there’s not one drop of landlubber blood in the whole family.
While Jiuming drinks, Jonas fishes in his pocket. The box he draws out is small, fancy, the sort of thing found in jewellery stores neither one of them shop at. He passes it over, and for a split second, Jiuming wonders if he’s, quite unceremoniously, and late, getting a ring. But that’d be so out of character and not something he asked for.
It’s not. He pops the lid, and it’s a shiny metal keychain—a shark—a megalodon. It must’ve been custom-ordered; the etched details are immaculate. Only someone in the field could’ve drawn it. Jiuming runs his index finger over it, tracing the familiar outline, deadly but enthralling. Then he glances over with a grin.
Jonas hides his subtle blush behind a large sip. Looking anywhere but Jiuming, he grumbles, “Happy anniversary, you psycho.”
Jiuming laughs. He can’t help himself. Their family’s so fucked up. In so many ways.
He answers, “I love it,” and leans over to peck Jonas’ stubbly cheek.