Page 70 of Storm and Sea

“Atreus.”

Soft as the gentle hiss of seafoam. Churning currents. Rippling waves. That voice, saying his name, banished the last of the nightmare. He looked into Nyel’s micah-filled eyes.

“Are you okay? You were thrashing really bad.”

Atreus dragged a shaky hand over his face, trying to grasp some semblance of composure. “A bad dream. That’s all.”

Nyel’s hand rested steadily on his shoulder, the touch grounding, even as he likely felt the faint tremor running through Atreus’s body.

“You were thrashing so loud. I thought someone was—” He hesitated, his grip tightening as if to reassure himself Atreus was still there. “I thought someone was hurting you. For being a Mer. I was afraid it was all my fault.”

“Then why the hell did you rush in?” Atreus rasped.

“Well, I—I couldn’t just let them… I wasn’t going to let someone hurt you.”

Atreus stilled as Nyel’s words slowly sunk in. Nyel believed someone had come to kill him for being Mer. Yet Nyel had come to save him, ready to throw himself into danger. A lump tightened in Atreus’s throat.

And I told him I would watch the humans tear him apart if it came to it.

Atreus looked up, meeting Nyel’s gaze for the first time. Nyel’s face was earnest, his hair tousled from sleep. Atreus’s usual annoyance and irritation for the sireno was absent. Instead, he felt something warmer, something far more unsettling.

“I’m fine,” Atreus muttered, though his voice still trembled. “It’s just… it was nothing.”

“It didn’t seem like nothing,” Nyel said, his hand sliding from Atreus’s shoulder to rest on his arm.

Atreus’s first instinct was to pull away, to shrug off the concern and retreat from the touch. But something stopped him. There was a warmth in Nyel’s touch, a comfort that Atreus hadn’t expected. It had been so long since anyone saw him this vulnerable…and chose to stay.

The room was silent, save for the steady rise and fall of their breathing. Slowly, Atreus allowed himself to relax, sinking back against the pillows. He didn’t pull away from Nyel. Instead, he found himself studying the young Mer’s face illuminated by the yellow glow of the street lamp leaking through the window—the lines of worry etched into his smooth skin, the earnest concern in those eyes.

“I know you said we were friends, but…” Nyel’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I know you want me gone.”

Atreus hesitated. He had wanted that—he’d spent days trying to push Nyel away, to shake off the burden of him. But right now, with Nyel sitting beside him, his presence felt like anything but a burden.

“I did,” Atreus admitted.

Nyel’s eyes widened, a flicker of hope sparking at his use of the past tense. “I’m not here to make your life harder,” he said genuinely. “I just… I didn’t want to be alone either.”

For the first time, Atreus wondered if there was more than one type of ‘alone.’ That, even surrounded by family, Nyel was isolated. Suddenly, Atreus didn’t feel annoyed, didn’t feel the urge to push the sireno away. He felt something else—something he couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was trust.

“Thanks for waking me,” Atreus said gruffly, “I’m good now.”

Nyel’s hand lingered on his arm for a moment longer before he pulled away, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied. “As you know, I’m not going anywhere.”

And for once, Atreus found that he didn’t mind.

“Atty, are you listening?”

“Huh?”

Marina rolled her eyes. “I said lift it higher; the left side is crooked.”

“Oh, right.”

Atreus was practically sleepwalking. He didn’t sleep again after the nightmare woke him, making him sluggish on top of being distracted. He lifted the banner higher.

“Perfect. Nail it right there,” Marina instructed, and Atreus did as he was told. They were hanging the banner the three of them painted for the Bayallon sign-ups. Tonight, when the festival was in full swing, kids would flock to sign up for the race. Marina put a lot of time and effort into making sure the display was perfect. The least Atreus could do was pay attention.