Just something I'm trying out.

Don't own Glee.

Blaine pressed his feet into the sand so the soggy grains squished between his toes. He had rolled up the hems of his baggy jeans so the crashing waves would get them wet. Each wave sent cold shivers from his toes to the top of his head, creating goose bumps on the already cold day. The wind twirled and played with his dark curls as he stared out into the distance, imagining pirate ships on the horizon.

He was nearly seventeen years of age yet he couldn't stop his imagination running wild whenever he was alone and the deserted beach seemed the perfect place to delve into his luscious thoughts. He had given up describing them to his parents, who looked at him with slight concern as their nearly-adult son started talking about aliens and mythical creatures as though he had seen them for himself. They had gently told him he was a bit old for believing in such things and it was time to grow up.

So he stopped talking about them, and decided to write them down instead. He then discovered he had a natural talent for drawing and wiled away hours in his room, in the clearing in the forest near his home and other discreet places, drawing and writing to his heart's content. When he, his parents and his older brother went to visit his grandparents, the nearby beach seemed the perfect spot.

It was a small beach, unremarkable, and in the middle of Autumn it was almost always empty. The high cliffs surrounding the bay blocked off the view of the small town completely. It was just Blaine. He burrowed his feet further into the sand before looking around and seeing that there was a an archway in the side of the cliff, naturally made by the waves. Curiosity got the better of him and he went over to it. He walked cautiously through it and froze at the sight.

It was a small secluded bay, only a few meters wide with the cliffs acting as high walls on three sides with the waves gently lapping at the fourth. It gave Blaine the feeling of standing in a very high ceilinged circular room. But that's not what made him gape with astonishment.

On the jagged rocks that were sticking out from the waves onto the beach lay the most beautiful thing Blaine had ever seen.

"Mermaid," whispered Blaine, approaching the figure quietly. It had the torso of a boy and a glimmering tail of silver that seemed to shimmer a dark turquoise from the reflections of the waves. Soft brown hair swept across his forehead, slightly ruffled from where his head was lain on the rock. His face was pale and smooth, that of an angel. Across the bare skin of his face and his lithe torso and arms were swirls in blues and purples, as though a skilled artist had used him as a canvas. The word tattoo seemed too harsh for the markings, they were delicate and looked as though they were part of his skin.

It took Blaine, who was still ogling at the sublime scene in front of him, a while to realise that the position the creature was in did not look the most comfortable, as though he had just been strewn haphazardly across the pointy stone. And then with horror Blaine saw the deep gash on the boy's arm and the scratches and bruises across his side.

Blaine crept nearer, praying the beautiful boy was still alive. With relief Blaine saw the staggered rising and falling of the boy's chest. That cut really didn't look good though, so Blaine pulled off his bright red scarf that hung round his neck and walked closer, gently raising the cold arm and winding the scarf round, securing it with a tight knot. As he worked he examined the beautiful markings on the boy's skin, wondering if they meant anything or if they were purely for decoration.

He then sat back crossed legged on the rock, wondering what to do next. He should probably try and wake him, Blaine guessed he needed to get home. Maybe he had a family, a mum and dad who were worried about him. He placed a hand on the magical boy's shoulder, softly shaking it.

"Excuse me," he said quietly, then repeating it louder. "Excuse me. You need to wake up." After a few more shakes and quiet words, the boy's eyes opened sleepily. Blinking a couple of times before looking up into Blaine's face. His eyes were a clear blue, round and slightly confused.

Suddenly he sat up in panic, eyes widening in terror as he backed away, careful not to fall off the jagged rocks.

"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you," reassured Blaine, staying where he was. He expected the boy to turn and plunge into the sea, swimming away, but he stayed on the rock, his chest heaving as though he was finding it difficult to breathe. "I'm Blaine," he tried again, trying to prompt the other into saying something.

The boy opened his mouth and said in a quiet voice that sounded like music, "Kurt."

Blaine grinned widely, "Nice to meet you, Kurt." Kurt was still breathing heavily so Blaine asked, "Are you alright?"

Kurt nodded, still staring at Blaine with wide eyes. "Are you...a human?" asked Kurt hesitantly.

"Yeah," chuckled Blaine at the unusual question. "You're a mermaid aren't you?" Kurt nodded again. There was a silence where both the boys stared at each other in amazement.

"I have to go," said Kurt shakily, not taking his eyes off Blaine. Blaine tried to hide his disappointment as Kurt used his arms to move to the edge of the rock, looking down at the waves. "Until we meet again, Human Blaine." With those words he dived into the salty sea and with a flick of his turquoise tail he was gone.

Blaine sat there for a bit, in wonder about what had just happened. Then he cautiously made his way along the rock to the bit that was over the sand, seeing that the waves and crept further up the beach. He made his way to the archway to see it ankle deep in water. He needed to be careful, thought Blaine as he waded through the water. He needed to keep and eye on the tide if he was going to come back to the small cove.

Once through the archway he strolled back up the beach intending to go back to the guest room in his Grandparents' house and write the whole experience down. Finally he had something real to add to his collection of stories.


"Are you alright, Blaine?" asked his mother while they were eating dinner. "You're very quiet."

"Just thinking," said Blaine happily, munching on his lasagne.

"About what?" she asked again with interest.

"Just about my day," shrugged Blaine. "I was down at the beach."

"By yourself? Dude, that's depressing," said Blaine's older brother, Leo, his mouth full of food.

"Swallow before you speak, dear," said their grandmother with her wrinkly smile.

"Sorry," muttered Leo, swallowing his mouthful. "Anyway, Blaine, come busking with me tomorrow! This place is great, everyone's so cheerful! And I need your awesome voice, we sound epic together." Leo brandished his fork in Blaine's direction, accidentally flicking lasagne at their grandfather. "Oops, sorry Gramps."

"I dunno, maybe. I really want to go back to the beach..." Blaine mused.

"Ah, heard the calling of the sea have you?" his grandmother nudged his side. "So did I when I was your age, that's why I came back here. It's my favourite place in the world."

After dinner Blaine helped his grandmother do the washing up as she told him stories of when she was younger.

"I used to come here every summer holiday," she said, a dreamy look on her face. "I was a bit younger than you when I first discovered that little beach."

"Did you go there with friends?" asked Blaine, wondering if he had inherited his love for being alone from his grandmother.

"At first, yes. But one day I met a girl and we would meet up on the beach everyday. Unfortunately we lost touch once I stopped coming here on holiday." The old woman looked dejectedly down at the plate she was rinsing.

Blaine was dying to tell her all about Kurt, but he wasn't sure his Grandmother would believe him and also...he felt it was his little secret. All his life he had wanted something like this to happen and no one particularly cared or thought he was serious, and now that it had...he felt he had the right to keep it to himself.


That night he lay in bed in the guest room he shared with Leo in the small house with a torch, his pad of paper and a pencil, careful not to wake his snoring brother. He sketched another outline of the slim form of Kurt before getting annoyed and rubbing it out. No matter how hard he tried he could not draw the mysterious boy, nothing he drew did him any justice. He groaned in frustration and put his pad away, switching off the torch and laying back on his pillows. Just as sleep was creeping over him he realised...Kurt still had his scarf.

Not sure whether to continue...