Chapter Text
The sun sailed high in the sky, showing warmth to Mike's skin against the cold droplets of water that splashed up against his arms. The heat was somewhat grueling, but Mike was too excited to care.
He faced the ocean, with the wind running through his dark locks and arms lazily splayed over the railing of the boat.
This was his first time sailing without his father, and the freedom of being alone was as calming as the ocean-scented air.
"It's called a sextant, Lucas." Dustin's voice rang out, the familiar lisp bringing a small smile to Mike's face, and disrupting the gentle sound of the waves and wind. "Not 'the sex thing,' and you know it."
"Whatever, just let me have it," Lucas said stiffly, and it was clear from his tone of voice that he was debating whether or not to toss Dustin overboard, and it was turning into a much more heated debate than usual.
Mike sighed, accepting that he could no longer pretend to be alone. Unfortunately, a schooner could not run itself, so no matter how much Mike wanted to be alone, he couldn't really sail without a crew.
Preparing for either a fight to break out or their only navigational device to get broken in a tug-of-war, Mike turned away from the ocean and went to break up the ensuing argument.
"Oh, no way, you're totally gonna break it." Dustin wined, clearly not realizing that his friend was on the brink of throwing him off the boat.
"Well if you don't let me check our position, I'm gonna break you." Lucas said, grabbing for the sextant.
"Hey!" Dustin spun to the side, avoiding Lucas's attempt to take the device. "How do I know you know how to use it if you don't even know its name!"
"You've seen me use it before!" Lucas said quickly, and loudly, and probably a bit over dramatic, so much so that Max took notice, looking up from the map she'd been distantly staring at for the past few hours, before going back to looking at the old, slightly faded papers strewn across the table.
"Guys," Mike called, getting his friends attention, "gimmie."
That was a lot less commanding than he'd been going for, but it seemed to get the job done.
Before either of them could protest, Mike grabbed the sextant out of Dustin's hands.
"Quit acting like children." Mike said, before glancing at Lucas. "Both of you. Now neither of you can use it."
"We're the only ones who know how!" Dustin said loudly. Which wasn't exactly true, as Mike had used it before, he just wasn't very good at it.
"Then teach Max," Mike suggested, "she could use a distraction."
That seemed to do it. With a nod, and a glare at Dustin, Lucas grabbed the sextant out of Mike's hands and started marching towards Max.
"Wow, played him like a fiddle." Dustin said, grinning.
"You want to take a sounding?" Mike raised a brow, looking to the curly-haired teen.
"…Yes." Dustin bit out.
"Okay, I'll stop the boat." Mike smiled, before heading to the wheel to turn the ship around, going against the wind to slow down. Out of the corner of his eye, Mike saw Dustin head down to grab the leadline to take the sounding. For some reason he loved knowing how far down the ocean floor was. Lucas thinks he's trying to make his own map of the ocean floor, which sounds like something he'd try to do.
Sure enough, Dustin emerged from below deck with the rope, a long stone tied to the end. Mike had turned the boat and was easing the mainsheet, while prepared for Lucas tighten the topping lift, as he'd apparently finished teaching Max, who was standing on the bow staring into the sextant.
Before long they were done, the ship rocking gently on the waves, and Dustin tied the leadline to the railing before lowering the stone gently into the water.
Now, finally done dealing with his friends, Mike made his way back to his spot, overlooking the waves. Now there was a small island visible, far off in the distance, that Mike hadn't noticed before. He's sure he's seen it on the map, but he's never passed by it on previous trips to the trading dock.
"Hey, guys?" He called over the deck to ask if they were heading the right way or if they'd gone off course during their bickering. Getting their attention might have saved him, if he'd done it sooner.
Mike hadn't turned from the ocean, so when something came up out of the water, his eyes immediately locked onto it.
Except he wasn't an "it."
What was in front of him was the most beautiful boy he'd ever seen.
Even from so far away, the brunette hair and bright brown eyes took his breath away, and Mike felt like he was drowning with his feet still on the deck.
The boy's eyes bore deep into Mike's soul, and it was almost like he was calling to him in his head. It was like the sight of him filled a hole in his heart Mike had no idea was there. This boy was the lyrics to a song that's melody he knew by heart, but had never heard before.
Before Mike could blink, the boy was gone, diving back under the waves, a fish-like tail that looked as if it was made from the brightness of the first sunrise, or maybe it was like Mike had been in the darkness of light for all his life, and this boy was the first light he'd ever seen.
Distantly Mike registered that normal people don't have tails, but he didn't really care.
He was jumping over the railing before he had the chance to stop himself, though he's not sure he would want to stop himself.
Suddenly, his breath was taken away, and he was actually drowning.
He'd tried swimming lessons before, but he genuinely so bad at it that his parents gave up on it and had settled for him always wearing a life jacket. Of course, Mike had stopped wearing those at thirteen, and hadn't bothered learning how to swim since.
Now, he was frantically kicking and trying to pull himself above the waves with weak arms, cursing his past self for poor life decisions that might have just gotten himself killed. Weather he was thinking about the not-learning-how-to-swim thing or the jumping-over-the-side-of-the-boat thing not even he knew.
After flailing in the water for what felt like way too long, Mikes lungs burned. He could hear the distant, muffled sound of shouting and splashing, but nothing to suggest he was actually anywhere close to the surface.
It feels like he should have reached the surface by now, even he wasn't that bad at swimming, right? Was he even going up?
Against his own mind's wishes, his body took a deep breath in, water forcing its way down his throat and into his lungs. Panicking further, Mike kicked faster, arms moving through the water as fast as they could, muscles burning.
He was going to die.
Why did he jump into the water? Why did that boy make him feel-
Mike felt arms wrap around his waist, and somehow gently lifted him up out of the water before his vision could turn to complete darkness.
As soon as he reached the surface of the waves, Mikes lugs finally remembered that they needed air, and he started coughing up the salty water in lungs, his throat burning. Tears prickled in his eyes, and he blinked them open to the bright sun beaming down at him.
A soft shushing noise sounded from behind Mike's ear, and he relaxed for a second before he realized the hands holding him weren't human. They were scaled, fish scales Mike realized distantly, hands still vaguely human-like, but with sharp claws instead of nails and, obviously, yellow scales replacing flesh.
The siren saved him.
Or was about to eat him.
Mike didn't have the strength to, but he should probably be fighting back. He knew sirens ate people, that he was probably about to be this one's supper, but he must still be under the sirens spell, because he can't even think about moving. In fact, he wants to relax. His body does, not him.
He must still be affected by the siren song (except he never even heard anything).
Either way, most siren survivors never got this close to a siren, were never in the arms of a siren, so Mike figured he was still as good as dead as when he was drowning. Maybe this will be a quicker death?
Except the siren isn't doing anything. Just…holding Mike above the water while the sailor gasps for breath while hacking up the water caught in his throat.
Mike distantly heard his name being called by his friends, but it was muffled by distance. How far away from the boat was he?
Mike realized that he'd basically just been staring dumbly at Siren Boy's hands since he opened his eyes, and he should really try to get back to the boat, or at least fight back a little.
Before Mike could move, the siren holding him started moving, somehow still holding him above the water while swimming towards the boat.
The siren's hands and forearms were scaled, bright yellow and shinning in the sunlight, just like his tail. One of his wrists had deep scars that cut through the scales, rough and jagged, but in a row.
While Mike felt oddly calm considering the fact that he'd almost just drowned, but he was certainly confused. Or maybe confused isn't the right word, but there was something about this whole situation that didn't make sense, different from all the other things that made no sense.
None of the questions running through his mind at that moment were why isn't the siren eating me? or why are we so far from the boat? Was I swimming forward and not up? How would that even happen? or why is the siren taking me back to the boat?
No, instead, the only question that was on his mind was why do I want to-
Nope.
Mike is just confused. That's it. It must be the fact that he'd almost drowned. That must have done something weird to his brain to make him think like that. Or the fact that he's currently being held by a siren, and siren songs lure you with thoughts like that. Or something.
That must be it.
Mike felt dizzy.
Was something wrong?
"Mike!" Lucas shouted over the waves, voice much closer than before, snapping Mike out of his stupor.
Mike felt someone pulling him up from under his shoulders, hoisting him up onto what he later learned was the life boat.
"Mike? Can you hear me?" Lucas asked, shaking Mike's shoulder.
Mike managed to huff in response, before continuing to cough up the remaining water clogging his throat.
The siren seemed to hesitate, looking at Mike with a look the teen couldn't quite place, before diving under the waves. Some part of Mike wanted to call out, for the boy to come back. Mike quenched that desire. He couldn't even if he wanted to, what with the fact that he was still struggling to get air into his lungs.
"I got him!" Lucas shouted up to the main ship, and Mike felt the lifeboat he and Lucas were aboard shift, before lurching up out of the water, being lifted up to the main deck.
Mike barely managed to sit up, supporting himself with shaky limbs to try searching for the siren, but he was gone, the waves now undisturbed.
Now that he was out of the water, Mike's body seemed to be catching up to the situation, and he started seeing grey at the side of his vision, before realizing that despite his airways being mostly clear of water, he wasn't really breathing.
Mike tried to take in a breath, and it flowed easily into his lungs, but left a weird, disconnected pressure on his chest. He stopped, and realized he wasn't breathing automatically.
"You okay?" Lucas asked, "well, obviously you're-you know what I mean."
"Hard to-" Mike took a short breath, "-breathe."
Lucas shifted his body so he was sitting up, "try and cough the water out?"
"No-" Another breath. "-Not the water-I-"
Grey started creeping into his vision, and Mike closed his eyes.
"Greying out." Mike said, before he let in another short breath.
"Okay, I need you to just keep breathing." Lucas said, before shouting up to Max and Dustin, but that didn't really register in his head.
Was this how he died?
Ironic, after being saved from drowning, he was going to die after he made it to safety. Well, this doesn't seem the worst way to die, whatever this is. He's just…disappointed that his friends have to watch.
"Just keep breathing," Lucas repeated.
Mike felt the boat land on the main deck of the schooner, leaning to one side.
"Do you think he can stand up?"
"Can we move him?"
"Just get in here, guys."
Before Mike really knew what was happening, he lurched forward, not due to pain or even instinct, but because sitting still was intolerable.
It was almost comical, or at least he thinks it was, as he couldn't really see it, with his eyes still shut to block out the light of the sun he'd been so awing at not so long ago. His insides felt like wet mud, and before he knew it, bile clouded his throat.
It seemed like it lasted forever, and just a moment at the same time. In the end, he opened his eyes to a pile of vomit resting on the floor of the boat.
His friends were looking at him. Concern, pity, a little disgust.
Breathing was easier. His vision was clearing.
"What…what just happened?" Dustin asked.
Mike wish he knew.
~~~
What just happened?
Will knew he was terrible at being a siren, but this was almost too ridiculous to be real.
The one time someone actually falls in—which must have been a mistake, there is no way he could have done that, he doesn't talk, let alone sing—and he saves the guy.
Will doesn't know why.
Maybe it was because when their eyes met, the sailor's wasn't filled with fear, or hatred, or the cold, calculating gaze, trying to divide how to tear him apart.
No, there was no mistaking the look of awe, of joy, like the eyes of his mother and brother, before he got separated, of Jane's—his sister's—eyes whenever she sees him, with that happy grin on her face that Will would flood the world for.
Except it was also different, something else he'd never seen before.
Or maybe it was because he didn't actually want to eat people, and was fine with fish. He knew Jane liked the taste of human flesh, so he probably could have given the boy to her, but that look stopped him.
It didn't matter why he let the boy go, it's not like he could change anything now.
The current carried him home, a little half-submerged cave, hidden in an alcove on the small island he and Jane had made their home after their escape. Unfortunately, he didn't realize she was home before he swam through the underwater entrance, so he didn't think about trying to hide the scent of human that still clung to him.
His head was only above water for a few seconds before Jane appeared from the water below him.
"Will!" Jane smiled at him, teeth sharp, before her senses picked up on the smell of human, and her eyes widened. "Are you okay? Hurt?"
Will shook his head.
"Good." She nodded. "What happened? Did you kill a human? I don't smell blood."
Will shook his head.
He was glad Jane was learning to speak, and that the human, Hopper, was willing to teach her. Will couldn't talk. He'd never spoken.
But that didn't matter, though, due to their…unique abilities.
Can I see?
Jane's thoughts appeared in his mind. Instead of answering, as he usually didn't share thoughts, even though this was Jane, his sister, because if she saw-
He let the memory surface, and saw Jane close her eyes to look through it. This is what they usually ended up doing, if not the psychic-charades they'd been doing before Jane figured out how to look at memories. Will hadn't figured out how to do that yet, nor did he really want to.
Contrary to what one—Hopper, that is—might think, Will didn't want to talk. He was fine as he was. If he really needed to tell someone something, Jane could speak for him. The psychic communication was different somehow. Sharing thoughts and memories was easier than forming words.
When the memory ended, Jane nodded. He could tell she wanted to ask questions, just as she could tell that he couldn't answer.
"I'll talk to Hopper about this later?" She offered to the silence.
Hopper would have to know, see how he was so protective of Jane, that a human had seen him, that he'd let the boy go. Still something in him was hesitant, he didn't want Hopper to know for some reason, wanted to guard the boy from…something. He didn't know what. It's not like Hopper would do anything.
Will, not knowing what else to do, nodded.