She's dying.

A sadness runs through him. A loss for a woman that he met only moments before. Because even though he saved from drowning, she will still die.

How had he, in only a moment, become so attached to her. Was it because he saved her? Was it because she saw him in this form and didn't run away? Was it because he had been so lonely his entire life that the small genuine interest she gave him made him feel things? Was it that her loneliness matched his?

He wants to ask a million questions. What's killing you? When? How long? Do you feel it too? But he settles for one that is more neutral.

"Why are you up here?" He asks, curious as to why she'd spend her last months alone up in the mountains.

"I don't know," she says. "I just drove until I ran out of road and walked after that. Eventually, I found myself here."

She spoke with an emptiness he knew too well. He can't help but push. He wants to know more-he has to know more.

"Yes, but why?"

"Why not?" She looks away from him. He realizes in that moment that he'd do just about anything to get her attention back. What is she doing to him?

But then he thinks, doesn't she have people she'd want to spend her time with, people who love her and would care for her during the time she has left? Did she just abandon them? Leave them behind?

"Don't you have people that love you? Why don't you spend your time with them?" A jealous note rings in his voice.

"I have no one," is all she says, still not looking at him.

He softens at her words. That's why her emptiness was so familiar. It wasn't the diagnosis so much as the fact that there was no one to mourn her loss, he guessed. But it doesn't have to stay that way.

"Then change that," he tells her.

She looks at him with a sharp glare. "What? Just so I can die on them?"

He flinches back but stands his ground. She deserves not to be alone, to have someone.

"Then find someone who just wants to have fun for a few months. Tell them you'll leave the state soon and want some no strings attached fun or something before you go," he suggests, though even as he says it he hates the idea of her being used by anyone.

"No," she snaps.

"So you don't want sex?" He asks before he can stop himself. She looks at him, face full of emotions.

"I want love." A tear falls from her eye. He reaches up and brushes it away with the back of his hand, careful not to cut her with his sharp nails. She doesn't flinch away. She just stares at him.

"When was the last time you ate?" He asks, avoiding all the things he wants to say, namely I could be that love.

"Way to change the subject," she jokes, rolling her eyes at him. He laughs and slips back into the water.

"Your one to talk." He rests his elbows on the dock next to her. "Answer the question."

"I don't know," she says. "Nothing tastes good anymore."

"You haven't had my cooking." He says with a smile. She looks at him with a look of disbelief. He chuckles.

He was a good cook, that was how he'd made his money. He started as a dishwasher and worked his way up to a chef, only to get kicked out and start again in a bakery as a pastry chef.

He pulls himself up onto the dock again and shifts into his human form. His long hair becoming a buzz cut. His eyes go back to their usual pale green. His scaled, sharp fingers become a normal hand. His tail shifting into muscular legs.

"You're naked," she comments breathlessly as she stares at him. Checking him out from behind.

"Your not embarrassed?" he asks, turning to face her. She blushes deep red and stares at him.

"Dude, you're hung." She comments almost mindlessly.

He blushes bright red and turns away from her, covering his face. He turns and walks back to his cabin to get some clothes. This isn't how it's supposed to work. She's supposed to be the one blushing.

He hears her stand and follow him, so he holds the door open for her as she steps inside.

"Make yourself at home," he says as he puts on some clothes. He pulls out a shirt and shorts for her to change into as well and hands them to her.

"Thank you."

"You can change in here," he says. "I need to get some firewood."

"You don't want to see me naked?" She asks right as he's about to leave. He swings around to face her.

"What?"

"Well, it's the least I can do after the show you gave me," he blushes again and leaves without another word. She chuckles.

---

"Nice cabin," she admires as she sits down in a big chair.

"Thanks," he says as he grades cheese over the pan. "I built it."

"Impressive." She looks around, admiring the small cabin. It was very organized, and the space was used well. There was a small wood-burning stove in the corner, with a chair next to it which she sat in. There were shelves behind it that held hundreds of books and a few knickknacks. There was a decent kitchen and a desk with a small bench that looked like it could double as a small dining table. Above them was a net that hung from one side of the cabin to the other, with blankets on top.

She stood and walks over to the kitchen where he stood. She wraps her arms around him. He stiffens at her touch, but quickly relaxes. He was a few inches shorter than her, so she rests her chin on his shoulder, looking over at what he was doing.

"So, what's for dinner, handsome?" She flirts, watching his precise movements.

"You." He flirts back.

She smiles and leans into his ear to whisper, "I taste pretty good. Can't blame you."

"Stop that."

She pulls away and looks at his face to see him red as a tomato. She chuckles.

"Look, I don't know why, but you bring out the flirty side of me." She lets go of him and hops up onto the counter next to him and continues. "If you flirt with me, I have to flirt back."

"You started it," he replies with a small smile.

"Sometimes I flirt without realizing it. I just can't help it when I have a hot man like you before me. Besides, I'm dying anyway, might as well have some fun."

"Don't say that."

"But you are hot-"

"That's not what I meant." Silence.

"Okay," she changes the subject. "Has anyone ever told you you have a great ass?"He bursts out laughing. His smile is so warm, his laugh intoxicating.

"You have a really cute laugh," she says unconsciously.

"Stop," he turns away, blushing. She hops off the counter and walks up to him, pilling him to face her. He looks in her eyes. They're standing so close. She blushes but doesn't move away.

"I didn't mean to flirt. It just caught me off guard at how sweet it sounded." She confesses. He smiles wide and they both laugh.

---

"You really should be more careful flirting with a random man you just met in the woods."

"Yeah, but you're a merman, and you're hot. So whatever you want to do to me, I'd probably be down for." The images that sentence puts into his mind, makes his head spin.

"Stop, please." he blushes harder unused to all the attention.

"No." she says. She flips her hair back over her shoulders and squeezes her chest together to make her cleavage visible through the shirt he gave her. He glances down before turning away to stir the food. "I'm trying to seduce you, is it working?"

"No," yes. He stays turned away from her as to not give her the satisfaction of seeing him turned on.

"Too bad," she whispers into his ear as she walks past him. She sits back in the chair, wrapping herself in a blanket.

He notices her watching him from the corner of his eye. He plates the food and walks over to her.

"Here." He hands her a plate of pasta. "Fettuccine Alfredo."

"Thank you." She says genuinely. It makes him blush, because she meant it. It was the first time someone had genuinely thanked him. She smiles warmly before devouring the food.

"Your welcome," he says as he takes a bite of his own food. A small smile on his face

To be continued...

January 5, 2024