Capítulo 8: Locks
Geale felt his cheeks burn as the sound of Marnthe's steady heartbeat thrummed against his arm. It reminded him of the steady pulse and the warmth of the clam that enveloped him in his sleep back at home; so yes, it did give him comfort.
But the sound also made him extremely aware of the distance between their bodies - or the lack thereof, at least between his arm and Marnthe's chest.
Geale stared wide-eyed at Marnthe, his heart racing at the sight of the smile on the singer's thin lips and the hint of amusement in his striking eyes.
He wanted to face him properly, grab him by the neck, cradle his jaw, and rid them both of the space between their faces.
Geale held his breath. His body was torn between turning his fantasy into a reality and quietly etching Marnthe's face in his heart.
The smile on Marnthe's lips slowly melted away as he realized what he just did. It was a momentary lapse of judgement, an improper conduct on his part - a mistake.
They weren't lovers. He had no right to pull him close that way and on the bed of all places!
Marnthe was flirting. And the shocked expression on Geale's face meant he recognized it.
Marnthe was horrified at what he just did. Had he been so deprived of intimacy that he behaved so immaturely and irresponsibly?
Or was he that...attracted to Geale that flirting came naturally to him?
Yes, it was attraction. He had to admit it was the only explanation behind why he chose to sing that last song after seeing Geale at the bar.
It was interest that made him want to look at Geale from the stage. It was curiosity that led him to wordlessly look into Geale's eyes as the smile on his lips faded.
It was attraction that made his heart race at the realization of how close they were on the bed.
Marnthe felt the bed shift slightly. It was his cue to sit up - to end the moment before it progressed to something else - but Geale was faster.
The younger man turned and leaned onto Marnthe's chest and smiled.
Marnthe froze. Was Geale smiling because he noticed how fast and loud his heartbeat was?
"Hmph," Geale finally muttered, nuzzling into the crook of Marnthe's neck. "Yes, it's bearable. Does this mean you have someone who sleeps here with you?"
"No! Of course not. Why would I?" Wait, why was Marnthe being defensive? It was just a question.
"Then the bed isn't bearable to you."
"It is. I'm used to it."
"You're used to lying on the bed alone?"
"I'm used to sleeping on the bed."
"But not to sleeping alone."
"That comes with the territory."
"But it's not comfortable!"
"It is when you're used to it."
"You don't have to get used to discomfort!"
"It's not that uncomfortable."
"You just said having someone here to hug you makes it bearable!"
"I didn't say it."
"You demonstrated it."
"Forget I demonstrated it then."
"I can't forget it! You're not comfortable sleeping on this bed alone. You don't have to lie about it."
Marnthe sighed. "Why do I feel like I'll never win against you?" he whispered, the exchange calming and amusing him.
He gazed at Geale's unruly curls on the bed and gently combed away a stray lock that had toppled over the younger man's forehead. It was so long, bouncy, and lively.
He remembered how beautiful it glided in the water when he watched Geale swim away from him.
Marnthe envied him a little. His eyes then caught the way that Geale was staring at his face and slightly parting his chestnut lips.
Marnthe sat up, hoping to avoid the next move that he was sure Geale was about to do.
"I'll show you your own bedroom when we return from buying your clothes," he said, hoping it would be enough to take their thoughts away from sharing the bed.
Geale sat up too. "I'm not going to sleep with you?"
"No, of course not. You'll have a room of your own," Marnthe explained as he rose to his feet. "Don't worry, it will be more comfortable than this one."
"How will you bear this poor excuse for a clam without me here?!"
"I told you I'm used to it."
"That doesn't answer my question!"
"It doesn't have to be answered. By the way, can I tie your hair up? It's going to be hot and humid outside. Wearing your hair up will make it easier for the wind to cool your exposed skin."
Geale sighed, sensing it as the end of their discussion about sleeping arrangements. "Sure...I guess."
Marnthe walked to a nightstand and fished out hair ties and pins from the drawer. He plopped behind Geale on the bed, gathered the bouncy locks of reddish brown hair, and expertly tied it up in a messy bun.
Geale frowned. It was the first time he felt the weight of the hair on his head. "Do I really have to wear my hair like this? Can't I just chop some of it off?"
"Nothing in the human world is sharp enough to cut merfolk hair."
Geale stared confused at him. "How did you cut your hair then?"
Marnthe paused. The length of his own curly locks reached just above his neck. The envy he felt when he inwardly admired Geale's hair resurfaced, making his chest throb.
He was sure that he had gotten used to the length of his hair. Marnthe didn't feel bothered or upset whenever he saw festival people with their long beautiful tresses.
No one on the island noted the length of his hair.
Was that it then? No one really noticed how short his hair was until Geale blurted out the question?
He had forgotten what he lost because people stopped reminding him that it was missing?
He took a deep breath numb the pain and smiled.
"I told you, didn't I? I'm not like you."
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