THE SEA BEFORE ME makes a rumble every time the tides crash against the giant burnt rocks, laughing at me. I stare at the sight, invite the voice into my ears, and let it ruin the solace I had for taking away my brother from me. The waters are beyond my reach—even if I am to fall, I will be falling on the piles of golden sand, the same shade as my brother’s hair.

The wind that lightly brushes against my skin, tempting me to take flight with it, no longer carries any trace of warmth. Clouds have gathered in the sky as if to mock my being, bringing forth a climate akin to the day I lost my brother. 

“Man, I would not love to swim in the ocean during this kind of weather,” Bastian commented while chewing the freshly baked bread. He had meticulously prepared four slices of bread, each separated by strawberry jam and butter according to our preferences. He took another bite before passing the bread to me, one with a thick layer of butter in it.. I glanced down at the food. 

“Eat it. You might be hungry, and I happened to eat all of it.” He threw a glance at Aven. “Though he can pass as my partner in crime with the pace he ate half of it.”

I stay silent. Feet perched on top of the rock, I cradle my legs against my chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of my lungs before the turbulent winds that threaten to move me. 

Bastian breathes heavily enough to be mistaken for a sigh. He snakes his arm around my shoulder and pulls me against his firm body, which is unbelievably soft, sufficient for a night’s cuddle. I let myself be in his embrace, be solaced by his warmth and the comfort he has to offer. But all that is a coin tossed into a spring in hopes of a wish to be fulfilled- they are lost without a trace, and the wish remains unheard. 

Bastian rubs my arm in an attempt to ease my nerves.  “Like grains of sand slipping through your fingers, time shall mend your wounds.” he presses a light kiss on my head. “This too, shall pass, Clara. We are here for you, we always will be.”

His whispers of comfort fell on deaf ears as all I could focus on was all the things Cameron had to suffer in his last moments. Was he afraid of the wind? Was it cold? Cameron hates being cold. And it was a stormy night, wasn’t it?

My heart feels as though it is being pierced with a thousand needles in the same spot. The image of Cameron- a younger version of Cameron- appears in my mind, holding his old worn-out pillowcase tightly against his chest, his favourite because I bought it for him three years before that event, knocking on my door because he was frightened by the sound…

He might’ve grown older, taller and bigger than me, but he was still my baby brother- my brother who had hands big enough to wrap around only a finger of mine. 

A hand wraps itself around Bastian’s own and pulls it away from my arm, brushing against my skin, and in that brief moment, goosebumps trail up my spine from how chilly it was. 

Bastian flinches away as though he has been stung by a bee. “Holy crap! You are cold!”

When he sees the way I am unresponsive to this information, Bastian’s eyes widen in surprise. He wags a finger at Aven and looks between the siren and me. “You- Is he normally like this?!”

Aven scoffs. Wrapping his icy fingers around my arms, he pulls me up to my feet and turns me around so that he is looking directly into my eyes. Azure skies meet cobalt and keep them captive in its unflinching gaze. 

“Let’s head inside. I don’t want you complaining about how cold it is later on.” I don’t know if he did it on purpose while being fully aware that I do not bother anyone while being in such a pitiful state. Maybe his siren senses are beyond our understanding. It should be. That made more sense than Cameron’s sudden departure from this world. 

Aven sighs. When I look at him, I observe that his eyes have hardened in the same unfamiliar way as the day I met him for the first time. No trace of humour resides within those azure pools except for indifference. I frankly do not know what to say or think when he becomes like this. 

His grip on my arms loosens as he steps behind. With a calm, calculated tone, one that only he can master, Aven speaks, “The glasses bastard is here. Says he wants to see Clara.”

Bastian, who is observing us with keen eyes, blinks. His eyebrow shoots up in surprise and confusion. “Glasses Bastard? Who- oh.” He nods. “I see. Take her to him.” He lifts himself off the ground and watches the sea with his hands in his pockets. 

Aven glares at him as if he is displeased by his words but doesn’t say anything in retaliation. As we are moving towards my house, Bastian calls out to him. “His name is Victor, by the way!”

The siren doesn’t bother pretending as though he heard him. 

Victor awaits us, standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the old photograph of us four: a younger version of me, Cameron, Victor and Bastian with Grandmother. I found it hidden in Cameron’s shelf while cleaning one day, that too, before his disappearance. I expect to see a hint of melancholy or repressed anger in his eyes, but strangely enough, what I find in that dark gaze of his is something else;

Confusion. 

Aven clears his throat. Victor remains frozen in his position, gaze directed at the picture. To be precise, on Cameron. Aven opens his mouth to call for him, but I clutch his hand and stop him. My hand feels as though it is holding a hand-shaped piece of ice. It burns my hand in an unfamiliar manner, and I have no choice but to leave it. 

Aven lets me. 

Busking in the coldness he had to offer shouldn’t sound tempting, but the sudden departure of that feeling of numbness and stabbing pain due to the contrast in temperatures has me feeling as though I have lost something more precious than my brother.

I pay it no heed and walk over to Victor and tap on his shoulder. The man doesn’t even do as much as flinch but instead turns over to me with an unfathomable emotion lurking in his eyes. Something heavy settles in the bottom of my belly. I gulp and muster up a smile. 

“Hi,” I say. 

Victor doesn’t waste a second to cage me within his arms. They are comforting- they act like a protective cover shielding me from the floods and rains offered by the harshness of life. 

I finally let out the breath I was holding in. I feel his grip on me tighten, sense my body go lax against his hard body. 

“For a writer, you are sure bad with your words.”

“Shut up and let me hold you,” he says instead. 

I chuckle despite myself. “I am the one grieving here. People will misunderstand you.”

Victor doesn’t move. His heavy breath becomes a rhythm to my vacuum. Without hesitancy lingering in my veins, I hug him hard and inhale his sweet scent- of mangoes and coffee, an odd pairing but addictive nonetheless. It is so different from the scent of the sea- salty and liquid- that I get to smell on Aven. 

Aven. 

I let go of Victor and cleared my throat. I spare a glance at Aven, who watches me with a delicate look in his eyes. He stares at me as though I am going to disappear any moment now. He stares at me like I am a fragile piece of note lost in the sea, waiting to be taken away by the tides. 

Our stares take us to the depths of the abyss, where tranquil blue waves and fishes swimming around in a circle reside. His eyes, under the harsh lights of the sun, glow and show me the sight that Cameron must’ve witnessed whenever he looked at the sea- I see an enthralling sight of beauty. 

I gasp and glance away from those deep pools of blue inviting me to be in his embrace. “Would you like some coffee? Or do you prefer orange juice?”

“Orange juice,” Bastian calls out from the door. “With extra ice on the top.”

I chuckle and move away from both men. I approach Bastian, who walks in with a handful of plates and a tin of butter and jam. “Is that all?”

“Yep. Need any help?” he asks softly.

“No,” I respond, taking the plates from his hand. “Put the butter and jam in their places. After that, you can rot away in your seat like you always do.”

“You are becoming brutal day by day.” He turns to Victor. “You didn’t say that you were coming. I would have left the bike behind if you had informed me.”

Victor shrugs. He scratches his head, glances at Aven and sighs. “I forgot. Besides, I needed a walk after being cooped up in the room for so long.”

Bastian nods in agreement. “That, you are right.” He pulls Aven over to him but tugging him by the sleeve of his shirt. Aven, being lighter and smaller in frame, is easily moved like a feather floating in the wind. “You come with me~”

“I don’t want to?”

“As if you have a choice.” He sings. While Bastian isn’t that bad of a singer, I will always prefer Aven’s voice over his. I pause. Since when did I start preferring Aven over my people? I sigh upon another information washing over me. I don’t refer to him by ‘it’ or ‘siren’ anymore. 

My fists clench on the kitchen counter. This is bad. 

A wave of fatigue washes over me, along with a massive tug of a headache. I instinctively trail my eyes down the back of my hand and pull my sleeve down to cover the skin. The scales are returning. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that for sirens, sea water is preferable to tap water. Ever since Bastian started to drop by the house to stay till the wake of the night, we have not gotten a chance to take a dip in the sea. And for some reason, Jeoghan won’t allow me to approach the sea at night. 

 I grab a few oranges to make the juice and place it on the counter. A hand appears by my side holding two glasses. It’s Victor. I raise a brow at him.

“We both know who’s better at making orange juice.” He starts.

“It’s me?” Victor shakes his head. He points a finger at himself and says, “It’s me.”

I scoff at him despite the wave of fatigue washing over me, both by my body’s paused transformation to a siren and by my overwhelming feelings of grief. “As if.”

He picks up the honey sitting idly by the window and shakes it gently. “You add too much honey.”

“Come on, honey is necessary for taste or else it will be bitter.”

He smiles. Making his eyes disappear behind his glasses. “I stand by my point.”

My eyes linger on him for a moment, drinking in his gentle yet sharp features, absorbing them and engraving them in my mind. I internally shake myself to snap out from this moment of daze instilled in me by his presence. Seriously Clara? It’s been years. 

I blink. Strangely enough, the voice that scolded me resembled Aven’s. 

“You know,” Victor started by taking the knife from my side before I could reach for it. “I never got to ask you because of how you were acting and because of those two but-” he clears his throat. “Are you alright, Clara? Answer me only if you are sure yourself."

I chuckle. “Do you want the answer or not?”

Victor paled before flushing slightly red from his ears. “I mean-”

“I’m not.” I cut him off. I feel his gaze on me. “That’s the truth. But if you think about it, this is what should’ve been the ending from the beginning. Nothing, including hope, can change fate if it is written over someone’s head. I’m just a human. How far can I even go with all this false hope? Even you guys tried to make me understand, but I just won’t get it in my head!” I gasp. “Bastian is right. How long will I remain like this? It’s been weeks, and his death was already written on the stone. I should accept it and move on, but-” I stare up at Victor, “I don’t want to.”

I clutch my clothes above my heart in my fists and speak. “I don’t know, Victor, but something is telling me not to let go of the hope that I am barely able to cling onto. It is telling me to keep hoping- that Cameron is alive.” 

I grab the knife from Victor’s hand and cut the plastic off the honey bottle’s top. I peel it off and throw it on the counter. Victor starts peeling the orange and puts the fruit slices on a different utensil.  The plastic’s faint opening cuts through the silence like a knife, but we ignore it.

“Clara,” he starts. “Whatever your decision may be, we will be together with you. We, including that man who claims to be your boyfriend.”

I snort. “Have you warmed up to him?”

Victor shrugs. “If Bastian has, then it means he might be a good guy.”

I hum, telling him that I am pondering over it. “I won’t be so sure.”

Victor flinches, surprised. “What?”

“Hand over the orange; you won’t reach anywhere with the pace you are peeling them.” Without waiting for an answer, I snatch the orange from his hand and cut its top. 

“The hell are you doing?” he sounds horrified. I shrug. “This is more convenient,” I say as I take another from his side. I ignore the knife in my hand and loom over the counter, making the object slide and scrape my finger, for I have an unusual way of holding it. Crimson warmth flows down my finger, and I stare at it, fascinated.  

“Oh,” I say while Victor freezes as though he is the one who got injured. He immediately yanks my hand and observes the wound. “You should be careful, Clara!” he scolds me. 

“Come on, it is just a scratch.”

Victor searches around for the first aid box in the cabinets. Understanding what he is looking for, I lean over the counter and answer his unspoken question. “Cameron had taken it for his trip after losing his. I haven’t brought another since.”

He stops and sighs. He fiddles with his glasses and then turns around. He looks unsure of himself but then approaches me and takes my hand in his. Blood smears in his palm, but he doesn’t bother wiping it clean. Instead, he leads my hand over to the tap and turns it on. 

Water flows down the wound, making the transparent liquid turn red. The prickling sensation in the wound tells me that the cut is deeper than I thought it to be. “That hurts.”

He turns off the tap and observes the wound. “The bleeding isn’t stopping.”

I sigh. “I should’ve brought another first aid kit.”

Victor keeps on staring at the wound. Before I can ask him what is wrong with him, he guides my hand to his soft, parted lips and licks the wound. I flinch. Not from pain but from the sweet sensation I received from the action. 

Oh fuck.

I try pulling my hand back, but his grip is firm and his tongue unyielding. “Victor, what the hell are you doing?”

“Relax,” he mumbles against my skin. His lips arap around my finger before sucking and I lose it. “Victor!” I yank away my hand. 

So lost in confusion and temptation, neither of us noticed two other presence in the room until it was too late. A flicker of blue appeared on my side, which I thought was an illusion until Victor started choking on air. His feet lifted themselves off the ground, all while the man struggled to breathe. 

“Holy shit-” Bastian gasped. 

I swiftly turn my head in the direction of the sound. 

There he stood, looking as calm as ever but holding a million emotions in his eyes- Aven’s eyes glowed electric blue. Glowing scales appear all over his skin, and he exerts his power on the man. With shock lingering in my body, I recognised the emotion in his eyes.

Fury.

Aven is furious.