That evening, as the warm light of the setting sun filtered through the hospital blinds, the head nurse entered my room with a clipboard in hand. Her footsteps were brisk, efficient, trained for silence, yet laced with hesitation for some reason. She moved to take my vitals, her fingers gentle as they wrapped the blood pressure cuff around my arm, but her eyes kept flickering toward me with unspoken concern.
Unable to bear the tension stretching between us, I finally broke the silence. "Is something wrong?"
The nurse exhaled slowly, her expression caught somewhere between professional restraint and human empathy. "I'm not allowed to let anyone visit you except family," she said, lowering her voice, "but… the man. The one you said saved you. He's been sitting outside the building for the last five hours."
I blinked, heart thudding. "Delmar?"
She nodded, her voice tinged with pity. "He doesn't speak, at least, not like we do, but every time a staff member passes by, he stares at them like he's begging for something, repeating your name like a broken record. Over and over. We tried offering him food, water... but he won't take anything. Just keeps watching the door."
The air left my lungs in a sharp rush. "He's been sitting in the sun all this time?"
"Yes," she said, eyes softening. "I shouldn't allow it, but… do you want me to send him in?"
"Oh God, yes! Please, send him in," I said, already struggling to sit upright against the bandages on my torso. "I thought the police had him."
"They released him this morning," she murmured before stepping out of the room.
Relief crashed into me like a tide breaking against the rocks. He was safe. He'd made it out. And somehow, even after everything, he'd come for me.
Minutes passed, long and agonizing, until the door opened once more.
Delmar stepped inside.
He wore rugged, ill-fitting clothes, clearly borrowed or stolen, his frame too lean and powerful for the sleeves that clung to his arms and the pants that bunched awkwardly at the knees. His hair dry and frayed, his lips dry. His eyes darted quickly across the sterile room, taking in every noise, every shadow, flinching subtly at the beeping monitors and the mechanical sighs of machines. He moved like a creature in unfamiliar territory, alert, ready to defend or flee at the slightest provocation.
Then he saw me.
His entire body stilled.
His throat moved in a visible gulp as he froze a few feet from the bed, standing at a respectful distance as though silently asking permission to come closer. My chest tightened painfully. He looked so lost… so brave… so out of place in this fluorescent-lit world that had never known his kind. And yet, here he was. For me.
No one, not one person in my entire life, had ever done something so selfless for me. Not like this. Not with this kind of quiet, aching devotion. I didn't know what to do with the emotions that churned inside me, sharp, unfamiliar waves that tugged at my ribs and tightened my throat.
"Hi," I breathed, my voice cracking around the word. "Are you alright? You must be… you must be out of water. For hours now…"
He didn't answer. Of course, he couldn't. His vocabulary was still limited, rudimentary at best, but his eyes… gods, his eyes said everything.
They swept over me with quiet desperation, scanning blanket covered form, the bruises on my arms, the pallor in my cheeks. As if he was taking inventory of every wound, every ache, every part of me that had been hurt by those men. And it broke something open inside me.
"I'm fine," I whispered, trying to offer comfort through a trembling smile. "You saved me. Again. Thank you."
He licked his lips, gaze dropping shyly to the floor. I could tell he wanted to speak, wanted to say something meaningful, but the words escaped him. Still, he stood there, swaying slightly, his skin flushed red from sun exposure, his breath shallow and uneven. He was in pain. That much was obvious.
And yet, he hadn't left.
He hadn't gone back to the ocean.
He had waited, for me.
Even if it meant burning under the cruel daylight sky.
"Would you like some water?" I asked softly, gesturing toward the half-full bottle on the side table. My voice felt strange in the sterile quiet of the room, too human, too small compared to the chaos that had carried us here.
Delmar's gaze flicked to the bottle, then back to me. His lips parted, tongue brushing the bottom lip in a slow, parched motion. But instead of reaching for it, he stepped forward, eyes never leaving mine, and lifted the bottle only to place it gently in my hand.
"No," I said, trying to smile, trying not to feel the ache in my chest that rose at his refusal. "You have it. It's for you."
I uncapped the bottle and offered it again. For a long moment, he only held it. His long fingers curled around the plastic, the edges pressing into his reddened palms. He stared at the water with a strange intensity, brows creased in confusion. He looked so obviously thirsty, yet he wouldn't drink. Not even a drop touched his lips.
"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice quieter this time. The helplessness lodged in my chest like a thorn.
He said nothing. Instead, he reached out and cupped my cheek in his palm.
It was a delicate touch, unexpected, unfamiliar, and I flinched. Not from fear or disgust, but out of instinct. Where I came from, men didn't touch men like this. Certainly no one had touched me like this… like I was something to be cherished. His hand was warm, impossibly so, radiating heat straight through my skin and down to some buried part of me I hadn't known could stir like this. My breath caught. I pulled away.
Regret hit me instantly.
What had I done? How could I explain to him that his touch had undone me in ways I didn't yet understand? That I had never in my life felt this way for another living being, much less a man. Much less a merman.
Gods, I was utterly fucked.
"It's not you," I said quickly, grabbing his arm, needing him to know it wasn't rejection. "You didn't do anything wrong."
He stilled at the contact. His eyes met mine, wide, searching, and in that unspoken exchange, I heard a thousand things he couldn't say. And yet, I would never be certain if any of them were true. I didn't know if I was imagining it all. Maybe I was projecting feelings he didn't share. After all, what did I know? He couldn't speak. Couldn't explain. He'd only ever said my name.
He was one of the ocean. I was of the land. Two entirely different species. It was absurd to even entertain the fantasy that this, whatever this was, could be something real.
Still, when I struggled to sit up, he was there instantly. His strong arms slid behind my back, guiding me gently as I winced against the ache. His hand lingered a moment longer than necessary, resting against the curve of my spine. If he stayed like that a second more, he would know how hard my heart was pounding. But would he even know what that meant?
And what if I leaned forward? What if I kissed him?
Would he understand it?
Would he know it wasn't a greeting, or gratitude, or a mistake, but a longing, raw and terrifying?
Gods, this was so stupid.
"Why didn't you go back?" I asked suddenly, needing to make sense of the inexplicable weight in my chest. "Why are you still here?"
He said nothing, only watched me with those fathomless eyes. The silence between us stretched tight. My words came out harsher than I meant, laced with the bitterness of fear. "You have to go, Delmar. You have a life in ocean. And I am nothing but a stranger?"
His face fell. The shift in his expression was so visceral it cut through me. As if I had taken something sacred and shattered it in my palm.
"I don't want people to find out who you are," I added quickly. "I called my mom. She's… she's coming to get me. You should leave before they start asking questions."
It wasn't true, I hadn't spoken to her yet. I'd left a voicemail, nothing more. But saying it made it feel real. Like I had a plan. Like I was still in control.
Delmar's eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched.
"No," he said, the word a guttural, aching sound.
It sent a shiver down my spine, not out of fear, but awe. That single syllable, harsh and rough as it was, was defiance. It was a plea. It was something more.
He tried again to speak, his brows furrowed, lips shaping around words he couldn't form. But only a low clicking sound emerged, the language of the sea spilling from his throat before he turned his head in frustration, his shoulders tensing as he huffed in defeat.
I watched him, heart torn in two.
I didn't know what his "no" meant.
Did he not want me to go?
Or did he not want to leave?
And would it even matter when the world would never allow a boy to fall in love with a creature like him?
But even as I sat there, uncertain and unraveling, one truth echoed louder than the rest.
He stayed.
And that… that meant something.
The moment the air had begun to settle between us, just enough for my heart to stop racing, my mother, of course, chose that exact moment to call.
"Your mom's on the phone," the ward boy said, poking his head through the doorway with a sheepish grin that faded the second he caught sight of Delmar. He stepped into the room, his eyes traveling down Delmar's body in a slow, skeptical sweep, like he was trying to make sense of him. Delmar, in turn, glared with such unblinking intensity it could have seared a hole clean through the poor boy's back. If my ribs hadn't still been aching from the assault, I might have laughed. Was that jealousy? The thought felt ridiculous. And yet, the way he stood so stiff, so visibly annoyed… maybe it wasn't.
With the phone clutched in hand, I barely had time to breathe before my mother's voice exploded through the speaker.
"You were abducted, Kash! Abducted!" she shrieked, as if I'd vanished into thin air on purpose, just to spite her.
"Calm down, Mom. I'm alright now," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
"You never listen to me! I told you it wasn't safe. But no, Mr. Adventurer knows better. Do you think I can handle another funeral?" Her voice cracked with the weight of her own fears, but it still stung. It was always about her.
I pinched the bridge of my nose, pain tightening behind my eyes. "Can you come and take me home? I lost everything. My phone. My wallet. All of it."
There was a pause. Then, a quieter, wounded voice. "Of course I'll come. Do you think I'm so heartless I'd leave my son in some strange city, all alone, bleeding out in a hospital bed?"
"I'll see you soon," I muttered and ended the call before she could spiral into another tirade.
My gaze drifted to Delmar. He hadn't moved. Still lingering near the corner, eyes locked on me with an unreadable expression. I remembered the way he hadn't touched the bottled water I offered earlier, how he looked at it like it was foreign, dangerous. And now, it made sense, of course it did. He wasn't built for this world. Not for plastic bottles and filtered water. He belonged to the ocean. His body was likely made to process saltwater, not the sterilized nonsense we kept in hospitals.
Visiting hours ended soon after, and the nurse returned to usher him out. He didn't argue. He simply nodded once, silently, and walked out with that same slow, cautious grace, like every fluorescent light and white wall unsettled him. I watched the door for a long time after he left, wishing I could've asked him to stay, though I knew I couldn't.
Later that night, restlessness ate at me until I finally begged the nurse to check if Delmar was still around the hospital.
She returned with a sigh. "He's still there. Sitting in the same place he was this morning. Outside the main entrance. Like a statue."
My chest tightened. "Can you… would you be able to give him some saltwater?"
She blinked at me like I'd lost my mind. "Saltwater?"
"Yeah," I said quickly, trying not to sound as desperate as I felt. "It's a… dietary thing."
To her credit, she didn't argue. Just nodded slowly and walked away, still staring like I'd grown a tail and fins myself.
When she returned a while later, her face was drawn tight with disbelief. "He drank it."
"What?" I sat up straighter.
"He drank it like it was holy nectar. Like it was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. I've never seen anything like it. You'd think he was dying of thirst, the way he gulped it down. Does he have some kind of condition?"
"He's low in ions," I lied again, lips dry with nerves.
The nurse shook her head, muttering under her breath as she gathered her notes. "Well, whatever it is, you better tell him to cut it out. No kidneys can survive that."
"I'll talk to him," I promised, though we both knew there weren't exactly conversations happening between us. Not the normal kind, anyway.
She left, her shoes squeaking down the hallway, and once again I was alone, with the hum of fluorescent lights, the scent of antiseptic, and the unbearable weight of everything I couldn't say. Delmar was still out there. Still waiting. Still watching over me like I was something worth saving. And all I could do was lie here, broken and aching, wondering what the hell I was going to do when I saw him again.