Page 147 of Storm and Sea

Steady.

When the music was fast and loud, Atreus extended his arms wide, maneuvering Nyel in a series of turns and spins. Anything to keep from touching him more than necessary. But now, with the music doing something stupid to his head, Atreus couldn’t resist pulling Nyel close. The hand on the sireno’s waist squeezed fractionally tighter despite his resistance, and when Atreus heard Nyel’s little intake of breath, his own breathing stopped entirely.

What am I doing?

He tried uselessly to shoo away the fluttering butterfly wings in his head. His body didn’t feel like his own; it was leading him somewhere unknown, and it was all he could do to keep from running away. These feelings were unfamiliar. And if they weren’t stampeding through his body, Atreus would have denied they existed at all.

It only grew worse when Nyel’s head lifted, and the golden flecks in his honey-brown eyes shone like stars on the surface of a still sea. Something in Atreus stirred then; some creature he didn’t know lived beneath his skin. But it was there now, and it was wide awake.

“Th-this is nice,” Nyel stuttered, his voice barely audible over the faint hum of music and laughter from the festival around them. His face flushed, the glow of the hanging lanterns kissing his skin.

Atreus nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He focused on anything else—the rustling leaves overhead, the distant murmur of the waves lapping against the shore, even the warmth of Nyel’s hand in his. But no matter where he tried to anchor his thoughts, his attention kept drifting back to the man in front of him. How close he was. How Atreus wanted him closer. Wanted to keep him there.

“I-I mean,” Nyel glanced away, looking at their joined hands as if noticing them for the first time. “It’s… really nice,” he finished softly, his voice carrying an edge of vulnerability that made something in Atreus tighten.

Atreus’s breath hitched. He wasn’t sure if it was the music fading, the laughter in the distance, or Nyel’s shy smile that made his chest feel like it was made of glass. But it was all too transparent. Too brittle.

Mercifully, the music stopped, the last note hovering in the air with painful softness. And just like that, the spell was broken, and Atreus realized how close they were. He jumped back too fast, and his heart sank at the hurt look on Nyel’s face.

“W-wanna to get some food?” he offered just to escape the dancing.

“Sure, food sounds good.”

They’d hardly made it ten steps when a friendly fist punched his arm.

“Hey, Gatto,” Leo said, his voice charming as ever.

Atreus turned, expecting to see Leo’s famous, swooning smile. Instead, he recoiled.

Leo was haggard beyond recognition. The bags under his eyes were heavy, and his skin had none of its sunkissed glow. His cheeks were more hollow than Atreus had ever seen, and there was a tightness to his smile.

“Hey, Leo,” Atreus said, unable to hide his concern. “How are you?” he asked, knowing he wouldn’t get an honest answer.

“Same old, same old,” Leo replied brightly. “You two looked good there,” he said, nodding to the dancers.

“Yeah, we practiced,” Atreus said, though what he really wanted to do was ask Leo what was going on. He’d been so wrapped up in work that they rarely saw each other anymore, exchanging only brief words as Atreus restocked his boat with chum before Leo was off again. How had Atreus not noticed his decline? Was the new boat not catching enough to make ends meet?

“Hey man, what’s going on—” But he was cut off as Leo spoke over him.

“I have to say, though, you were getting some looks on that last one.”

“Looks?” Nyel asked.

“More than a few.”

“Why?”

“That last number is a pretty famous song around here. Very, uh, for couples.”

At the word ‘couple,’ Atreus’s attention snapped away from Leo’s concerning appearance to what he was saying.

“Is that a problem?” Atreus asked, more curious than accusing.

Leo shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. “Maybe not in big cities on the mainland, but around here, it won’t go over well.”

Atreus still didn’t understand what Leo was saying, though surprisingly, Nyel had.

“I get it. My mother would have called it ‘Unbonded’ behavior,” he said with an eye-roll.