“I’m going to the aquarium this weekend, you can come if you want.”

You hadn’t explicitly asked Simon to come, but it still came as a surprise to see him there, standing by the ticket booth, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. He stood there like it was the simplest thing in the world. To you, it wasn’t.

His steps were slower than yours, trailing just behind, perhaps waiting for you to take his hand. You didn’t, thinking he was bored, maybe even regretting showing up. Quiet words flowed between the two of you, sometimes, the silence simply lingered, floating in the air just like the fish do in the water.

It all held some sort of sacrality, your faces bathed in pale blue light. Sometimes Simon looked at you, and sometimes, you looked at him; yet your eyes never met. Words bubbled up in your throat, suffocating you, but silence seemed to be the most comfortable option, afraid to shatter the delicate atmosphere between you.

At the largest exhibit, your gaze was trained towards the dark blue waters, incessantly seeking. “We’re here for the whales,” you said, as if voicing it would make them appear. “Do you think they ever get tired of being so far down no one can see them?” You asked. “Maybe it’s easier that way.” Simon replied after a moment.

“I wish we’d seen the whales.” You admitted as you stepped outside, the lack of the sighting leaving an uncomfortable void in your chest. “There weren’t any,” Simon replied carefully, watching your face glowing in the golden sunlight. “I read the brochure, there were no whales.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked, turning around to face him, a flash of something like betrayal crossing your eyes. “Because you wanted to see them.” He shrugged, as if it was the most obvious answer. “Why did you come, then?” You countered, feeling a spark of irritation. His next answer takes a while to come, as if it might drown him.

“Because you’re the thing I keep looking for.”