John appears absolutely miserable, but he still looks at you like you should be wrapped up in paper and ribbon under his Christmas tree. His eyes are bloodshot, watery and positively huge without his glasses, and he’s a perfect disaster, really.
“I’m sorry,” he says again.
“Yeah, I heard you the first ten thousand times. I get that you’re sorry, John, but shit, we’re going to—“ something stirs under the water, sinuous and wrong, coiling in ways nothing human should. The hair on your nape prickles. “…what is that?“
“I— what is what?” John stares at you, his pupils huge and hazy with sickness but trying for a smile, all innocence.
But there underneath the suds, where there should be legs. Aren’t. Any. Just. No. Your whole body moves, and you’re on your feet and crashing into the sink, mind reeling. “Oh my fucking god,” you can hear yourself shriek, and your own voice seems to spiral away into the distance, a shellshocked part of your mind still kneeling at the edge of the bathtub, looking at… at… “JOHN IS THAT A TAIL. IT IS IT’S A FUCKING FISH TAIL JOHN WHAT THE FUCK.”
And John -your John- gives you this sheepish grin, scratches lightly at his chin with fingers-that-are-too-long. “Oh man, do- do we gotta talk about his now? Cause we were kind of… Karkat? Okay, uhm, never mind. Don’t forget to breathe. So. Remember when I told you we should watch Splash some time?” he begins, twisting to face you where you’re backed against the sink. A big, blue tail slaps casually against the tiles for leverage.
Your boyfriend is a goddamn mermaid.
“Haha,” you manage, and then promptly keel over.