Fang

The sun was already starting to dip by the time you made it down to the shoreline. Most of the daytime crowd had packed up and left, leaving behind a quieter stretch of sand and the low, steady sound of the waves. The air still held the heat of the day, mixed with salt and the faint smell of sunscreen from earlier.

You hadn’t planned on staying long. Just a quick walk to clear your head. That plan lasted until you noticed someone sitting alone on a faded towel near the water.

He was hard to miss.

Dark purple-blue hair, messy and slightly damp, stuck out in every direction. Shark-like fins jutted from the sides of his head in place of ears, and a long, powerful tail rested in the sand behind him. His skin was a muted gray-blue, patterned with subtle lighter markings, and a number of old scars cut across his arms and torso. He was wearing a sleeveless, cropped gray top that left his midriff exposed, along with a heavy black collar studded with dull metal spikes. A pair of worn shorts sat low on his hips. Sharp teeth flashed briefly as he yawned, and when he turned his head, you caught the glint of yellow eyes.

He noticed you looking.

For a second he just stared back, expression unreadable. Then one of his fins twitched, and a slow, lopsided grin pulled at his mouth, showing off those pointed teeth again.

“You lost or something?” he called out. His voice was rougher than expected, a little gravelly, with an easy sort of confidence. “You’ve been standing there for a minute.”

You walked closer without really deciding to. Up close, he looked even more striking. There was a thin scar running across one of his cheeks, and another along the side of his neck that disappeared under the collar. Despite the sharp teeth and the scars, there was something oddly approachable about him — or maybe it was just the way he was looking at you, open and a little amused.

“Just walking,” you said. “Didn’t expect anyone else to still be out here.”

“Yeah, well.” He leaned back on his hands, tail giving a lazy flick against the sand. “Crowds piss me off. Prefer it when it clears out.” His yellow eyes moved over you in a quick, assessing way that didn’t feel unfriendly. “Name’s Fang.”

“Fang,” you repeated.

“Yup.” He grinned again, wider this time. “Parents had a sense of humor. Or no creativity. Still deciding.” He tilted his head toward the empty stretch of sand beside his towel. “You can sit if you want. Not like I’m using the whole beach.”

You hesitated only a second before dropping down a short distance away. The sand was still warm. Fang watched you settle in with open curiosity, one knee drawn up, arm resting on it. Up close, you could see faint gill slits along the sides of his neck, and the way the last of the sunlight caught the wet sheen on his skin.

“You’re not from around here,” he said after a moment. It wasn’t a question.

“That obvious?”

“Kinda. You’ve got that ‘I don’t usually do this’ energy.” He reached into a half-crushed plastic bag beside him and pulled out a bottle of water, taking a long drink before offering it out. When you shook your head, he shrugged and set it back down. “So what brings you to a mostly empty beach at this hour? Trying to be mysterious, or just didn’t check the time?”

The conversation came easier than you expected. Fang talked with his hands a lot, fins twitching whenever he got more animated. He had a blunt way of speaking, but it never crossed into rude. He asked questions like he actually wanted the answers, and when you spoke, he listened with his whole attention. Every so often his tail would shift, sending a small spray of sand into the air.

At some point the sky started changing — orange bleeding into pink, then a deeper blue. The temperature dropped just enough to make the breeze noticeable. Fang didn’t seem in any hurry to leave. If anything, he seemed more relaxed the longer you stayed.

“You’re staring again,” he said eventually, but there was no real accusation in it. One corner of his mouth lifted. “Do I make you nervous or something?”

“A little,” you admitted.

Fang laughed, a short, bright sound. “Honest. I like that.” He shifted onto his side, propping his head up with one hand so he was facing you more directly. The spiked collar shifted against his throat with the movement. “Most people either try too hard to act like the shark thing isn’t weird, or they get all weird about it themselves. You’re just... looking. It’s different.”

The way he said it made something low in your stomach tighten.

Silence settled between you for a few moments, broken only by the waves. Fang’s yellow eyes stayed on you, thoughtful now. The last of the sunlight caught the edge of one of his fins and turned it almost translucent.

“I’m not gonna bite you,” he said suddenly, then paused. “...Unless you asked. Hypothetically.”

You raised an eyebrow. Fang’s grin turned a little sharper, a little more deliberate.

“Too much?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

“Yeah, fair.” He rolled onto his back, looking up at the darkening sky. His tail curled loosely in the sand. “I’m not actually all that smooth. In case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Fang turned his head to look at you again. Something quieter moved behind his eyes this time.

“You’re easy to talk to,” he said. “Didn’t think I was gonna end up in a real conversation when I came down here. Usually I just swim until my head gets quiet, then leave.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m glad you walked over.”

The honesty in his voice landed heavier than the earlier teasing.

You stayed there as the sky went fully dark and the first stars started to show. The beach was completely empty now. Fang eventually sat up again, brushing sand off his arms. For a second he looked like he was debating something with himself. Then he glanced over at you, yellow eyes catching what little light remained.

“This is gonna sound forward,” he said, “but I don’t really feel like ending this yet. And I live a few blocks from here.” He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking less sure of himself. “You could come back with me. If you wanted. No pressure. We could just keep talking. Or... not. Whatever happens.”

He held your gaze, waiting. The spiked collar rose and fell with his breathing. His tail had gone still against the sand.

The waves kept coming in, steady and unbothered. Somewhere down the beach, a distant streetlight flickered on.

Fang didn’t look away.

“Well?” he asked, voice quieter now. “What do you think?”

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