It starts out as something in the background, the everyday mundane hum of a radio spitting tunes into the warm summer night, and Nico assumes that someone is just out on the beach late at night, just like him. But then, the voice seems just a little louder, more crisp and clear, and he knows, somehow, that it's not ordinary.

Maybe it's the way the singing strikes deep into his soul, or the way it seems to be absolutely wordless and yet... he knows exactly what the song means. He knows that it speaks of pain and loss, of searching for solace, and he knows that whoever is out there, they need his help. The voice is low and rich and it pierces through the air easily, seeming to fill everything despite the faintness of it.

So, he stands up, his head swivels back and forth a couple of times, his ears searching, his eyes sweeping, trying to discern the direction this voice is coming from. He steps out of the small alcove he'd been sitting in, it's a place he goes to when he wants to be alone. It's not very special and it's hard to get to, but it provides the kind of privacy that he sometimes needs.

Now it's apparent that the melody is coming from somewhere to his right, so he starts in that direction, almost in a trance. The louder the song gets, the more of it he wants to hear. It is an almost tangible thing, wrapping around him softly like smoke from a campfire and tugging him closer.

The stars twinkle up above, they flash like warning beacons and something in the back of his mind is whispering, as soft and distant as the waves pulling themselves over the sand, This is not natural. This is not right. Turn back. Do not get lost, Nico, do not get pulled in. He does not want to listen to caution, he wants to soak in this beautiful voice, he must find the person who possesses such a marvelous gift.

Somehow, he is not surprised when he turns the corner around around a thick wall of stone and finds a beautiful boy sitting at the edge of a drop-off into the ocean. This song had told him, somehow, what its owner was like. The golden hair that falls in waves to frame a clear-cut face, a face that is tipped towards the moon, the unbelievable blue eyes that are shut softly now, the graceful neck that is attached to elegant shoulders dotted with freckles and a muscled torso. The way his skin fades into scales at his waist, he does not have legs, but the tail of a fish. It is a soft orange color, like the sunset he had watched just a few hours before.

His head turns towards him, almost lazily, and his eyes open and catch on Nico's. His song has faded away now, but it lives on in his eyes, even stronger, and it is pulling Nico closer, closer until he is crouched down in front of this breath-taking creature, merely four inches away.

He flicks his tail, his lips pull upwards into a gentle smile. There is something else behind it, something that makes cold fingers wrap around Nico's heart for a moment, but he pushes that away. He pushes it away because he is lost.

"Hello," his voice seems like nails on a chalkboard compared to the song that is still pulsing through his veins and he almost hates himself for speaking. He does not say another word, he does not want to disrupt this beautiful melody that is the wind rippling through golden hair, that is moonlight cascading over tanned skin, that is stars dotting smooth cheeks and waves dancing in blue eyes.

Will, he does not know where the thought came from, but he knows that it is the creature's name. It hums through him. He feels soft and warm because of it.

Will leans forward a bit, he extends a hand, and Nico's instincts tell him not to take it, but his face is so welcoming and the song is still reaching through the air and overriding his senses. So he reaches out tentatively and the moment his fingers touch Will's, a shock pulses through him and all he knows is this song, this melody, and a rough, calloused hand, sliding against his own, fingers winding through his. He does not have thoughts of his own anymore, it is almost blissful. He doesn't resist being pulled forward, his whole heart jerks and gasps when Will is suddenly gone, plunging into the ocean.

He dives after him without a second thought. Salt stings his eyes but he does not care, he must find the song again, it is almost like a drug.

A flicker of orange in his peripheral vision, he turns as fast as he can, pulls himself forward, against the current, against his better judgement, to Will. He is pulled into welcoming arms and his eyes do not sting anymore.

He is being pulled downwards, deeper into the ocean and he does not care. Somewhere- somewhere, but where, exactly? He is not sure- he is aware that his lungs are starting to burn. All he really knows is arms around his waist and a face that is so close, so close, and when Will looks down at him, his smile is cruel, but it's the most beautiful thing Nico has ever seen.

He stretches upwards, he seeks and he finds. He finds that these lips are sweeter than anything he has ever tasted before, even with the salt water pressing in and invading his mouth, it is so sweet. Everything in him is alive and shocked to the core when he is kissed back, when arms wrap around tighter around him, his chest is flush against Will's and a tongue is searching his mouth.

His mind is going black and his fingers, scraping along Will's back, are growing weak. He doesn't care. He uses every bit of his strength to kiss him, he kisses him with everything he has ever had, because this is everything he's ever needed. He is so alive and his mind is screaming that he is dying.

-

Nico does not expect to wake up, but he does. Rocks are digging into his back and his body convulses as he turns weakly onto his side to vomit salt water.

A Siren. He is weak and his heart hurts, everything hurts from his lungs to his eyes to the cuts on his arms. What are they from? How did he escape?

He thinks he knows, he thinks he remembers the song shifting as soon as their lips met. He thinks he remembers, now, two songs, winding together, pulsing like a single heartbeat. He thinks that he remembers changing course, being pulled upwards, now. He thinks he remembers that his kiss broke the spell and somehow created one of his own, a more figurative kind.

He thinks that he remembers blue eyes looking down at him after strong arms had pulled him onto land, lips brushing across his cheeks as the world faded to black. He thinks he remembers a heart-broken call, something so beautiful it tore his chest open, before a splash sounded and sparkling drops of sea spattered over his already soaked figure, silencing his mind into unconsciousness.

He knows only pain and longing. He wants only eyes like waves, hair like wind, freckles like stars, and scales the color of a thousand sunsets.