Chapter 5

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Chapter 5

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Ever since the boys' not-quite encounter, Clay has been surfing nearly every day, and George is certainly not complaining. Sapnap joins him every once in a while, and though George wants Dream all for himself, he has grown to love those days, too. He gets to listen to Clay's voice and hear that ridiculously boisterous laugh. A couple of months ago, even the thought of coming near the surface had terrified him. But now, here he is, floating with half of his torso above the water, hoping - no, praying - that his Dream will show up.

It's a stormy day today, with a sky full of angry clouds and choppy waves rolling by forcefully. The water is so murky that George can barely make out his tail behind him. He is assuming that Clay will be taking today off, so George is surprised, and pleased, to see the boy paddling out.

He looks a bit more tired today, exerting extra energy just to get over the waves, but he seems happy enough. George had never imagined that an earth-dweller could seem so at home this far from the shore. Maybe that's what all of this is about. Maybe, he likes seeing someone who thrives in the ocean, who breathes in tandem with the rising and falling of the tides. Maybe, after being solitary for so many years, he needs to talk to someone who is just a little like him.

Or maybe George is just really gay. That could definitely be it.

The merman keeps his usual distance, sits back, and enjoys the view. Even though he is tired, Clay looks as perfect as ever. He is even more stunning in the dusky lighting. All of his hair is tied up in a man-bun this time, except for a single curl that dangles in front of one eye. Somehow, his bright eyes still sparkle without the sun shining on them. George's eyes trail down the path of Dream's slightly crooked, heavily freckled nose, stopping once they reach those sinfully gorgeous lips. They are tinted a faint red from the biting wind, and the merman cannot help but wish that HE was the cause of the color, that HE was the one bitin–

"Stop it, George," he mutters under his breath, trying to keep his emotions in check, "get it together." But when Clay pulls off a difficult trick and breaks out into that cocky smirk of his, George lets himself give in. He thinks about those lips, how they'd feel against his, how they'd taste. Would their kisses taste like the salt all around them? Or would they be sweet? Would Dream be gentle? Would he cradle George's face with soft hands? Slip his fingers through his hair? Or would he be rough? Would he grab the merman by the jaw? Tug at his bottom lip with his teeth and pull him close?

George's thoughts are interrupted by a shriek, and he turns just in time to watch Clay fly off his board and fall head first into the tumbling surf. The merman chuckles and waits for the boy to resurface.

He doesn't.

George panics. When his fear of the boy being hurt outweighs his fear of being seen, he swims over to where he last saw the boy. He searches through the murky waters blindly, but his hands always return to him empty.

George pauses to collect his breath and tries to stop hyperventilating. If he passes out, he won't be of much help to Clay. Something bright in the corner of his eye catches his attention, and he turns around to see the board. Aha! The leash is probably still attached to the boy's ankle! He quickly swims over to the board and begins feeling his way along the cord until he finally touches skin. George slips his forearms under Clay's armpits, leans the boy's back against his chest, and pulls him up to the surface. He swims on his back, carrying Dream the short distance to the surfboard. After setting the boy gently on the board, he wraps his arms around the board's nose, and starts slowly pulling them to shore.

Luckily, the tides appear to be on their side, and they reach the beach fairly quickly. George cradles the boy in his arms, holding him close to his chest, and chokes back a sob of relief when he feels Clay's breath against his skin. He's alive.

Now that the adrenaline has worn off, George allows himself to think about the past half hour, the stress of it all washing over him like waves. He lays the boy in the sand, lies down next to him, and takes a few shaky breaths. George finally allows himself to cry.

Still knocked out, Clay lets out a sigh and shifts slightly in the sand. The merman sits up, removes the leash from his ankle, and coils the cord into a neat circle. He places it on top of the board to stop it from getting more sandy that it already is.

He mumbles something in his sleep, and when George turns around to look at him again, he nearly tears up at the angelic sight. Clay is just as beautiful when he is sleeping, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His lips are parted in a slight smile, and each exhale is accompanied by a gentle whistle. His dark, long lashes rest on his cheeks, fluttering softly. Most of the boy's blond hair has slipped out of the rubber band and falls around his face in a golden halo. George gently brushes the wet curls out of Clay's eyes and traces the sharp lines of his face with a delicate fingertip. His skin is somehow even softer than George imagined it would be. Up close, the numerous freckles are so much cuter. Unable to resist the temptation, he leans down and gives the dotted forehead a tender kiss, blushing slightly until he remembers that there is no one there to see them. He brings a shaking hand up to play with Dream's hair and quietly sings him one of his favorite lullabies from his childhood.

The boy begins to stir, and George slides back into the sea, giving him one last fleeting glance before disappearing into the waves.

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If you noticed any typos or errors, please pretend that you didn't. I may or may not have written this chapter half asleep with my head down on my desk. :)

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