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You’re walking to your next class, in your indigo and black uniform, along with your friends in the crowded hallway. A morning shine glows through the windows above, illuminating everyone. It was honestly very good lighting, if you weren’t hurrying you’d take a selfie.
You and your friends depart at the spot where you always separate, leaving you alone has you get closer to your class.
Although, you wouldn’t be staying for long, since your specific period gets to go on an aquarium field trip! Fun.
Your class was the one to raise the most money to donate to the school for clubs, food, staffing, better technology, etc.
You’re kinda excited, you haven’t been to one in a while, but of course it’d be better with your friends. This was one of many classes you don’t have any friends in, leaving to you shallow in your self pity whenever a partner project comes up.
You got to choose either to stay at school or go, but genuinely, who’s picking the first option? Just cause you won’t spend it with your friends doesn’t mean you won’t take a free break from this.. interesting school.
You walk in the room, almost your whole class is there. You walk past others to get to your seat, overhearing gossip and other stuff you were definitely not supposed to hear.
Eventually, Mrs. Pellingday quiets everyone and orders them to sit in their proper chairs. She starts explaining the field trip, where it is, what they expect from all of us, schedules.
But the most important thing to everyone in the room was our assigned partners.
The news was announced the day before, everyone would randomly get assigned partners, and there was absolutely no way to change it.
As expected, the whole class groaned and yelled in shock, like a room full of balloons deflated at once. Someone from the crowded room of disappointed teenagers asked the most important question, why?
Apparently, the last time there was an aquarium field trip like this, some pack of wolves jumped into one of the tanks and ate the fish.
Seriously, ate them, straight up from the salty fish water. Some were rare fish, almost extinct. The entirety of the school almost got banned from the aquarium because of it.
“Alright now that all of that’s out the way,” She flips a piece of paper over the top of her clipboard, revealing the next page under it. “I’ll now be reading your randomly generated partners, don’t get mad at me, get mad at the system.”
Each name was called out one by one, some were clearly trying to hide their frustration, not trying to sound like a douchebag to the person they’ll be forced to cooperate with. Some being okay with it, still not knowing the person but chill with them enough to have only slight awkwardness with.
Now you, you’re not sure where you stand.
Your teacher finally reads your name, you’ve been anticipating this a little too seriously since it came up.
Your partner was Eugene Ottinger.
You don’t really know him. You’ve maybe heard him answer a few questions in class, always a little too fast, like he’s worried someone else will say the right answer before he can. In fact, he was the one who asked, “Why?”, yesterday. You’ve seen him writing in the margins of his notebook, some complicated equation looking stuff also next to doodles of aquatic creatures you don’t know of.
But that’s it. You’re not friends, he was merely a classmate.
Your first thought is: “Huh.”
Your second thought is: “Well, at least he’s quiet.”
Upon hearing his name, you instinctively look over a him, just a quick glance. It seems he beat you to it, his eyes already staring at you like he’s known you forever.
Once all the names are read off, Mrs. Pellingday leads everyone out of room and to the bus. There’s only two chaperones not including the teacher. It’s understandable for a class around thirty people, but with the people in it, they need a whole police force.
The school had the courtesy to let everyone sit next to whoever they want. Knowing this, you went straight to the first empty seat you saw. No one would try to sit next to you, so you busted out your headphones and started scrolling.
About a minute or two goes by, you’re still sitting in your window seat, mindlessly scrolling. You don’t even feel the pain in your neck from your horrible posture. That is until you feel a tap on your shoulder.
When you felt the tap, you instantly felt a spark of agitation. Wondering who in their right mind would bother someone with headphones on, clearly entranced in their phone.
Maybe you’re thinking irrationally, they probably just need to ask a quick question, didn’t mean to cause harm to your perfectly comfortable state. Maybe you needed to give your eyes a break from the glowing screen with one too many brain rotting abominations on it, but at the time you just wanted to get this hour of a bus ride out of the way.
Before you could give a piercing, glaring, side eye, it saying volumes of “leave me alone”, you see a familiar face with an awkward brace filled smile and large glasses.
Once you make eye contact he starts talking. You quickly swipe your headphones off your head, only catching the last part of his sentence. “—fine if not, there’s just no more seats and I thought it’d be okay since we’re partners— assigned partners, I mean.”
You silently stare at him, trying to imagine what he was asking. Forgetting that he’s just standing in the aisle, avoiding eye contact as you give him a squinting glare.
After a few seconds you remember you could just ask him to repeat himself. High IQ thinking. You shake your head before replying. “Shit— sorry, what did you say?”
“I was wondering if I could, uhm, sit.. here?” He points at the empty spot beside you.
You scan over the other seats, all of them packed since the bus is so small. You instantly think it probably looked like you really wanted him gone; it really was instinct to see if there were any other free seats. Great first impression on your partner.
“Oh! Yea, of course.” You remove the bag from beside you onto your lap, allowing him enough space.
He does the same with his bag as he claims the seat, before uttering a small. “T-thank you.”
You slide your headphones back on, looking out the window as the bus starts driving away from the school and onto the road.
—
Remember that second thought you had? “Well, at least he’s quiet”? That turns out to be only partly true.
Because the second you step into the aquarium and Eugene catches sight of the giant central tank, he actually gasps. Audibly.
The aquarium is huge. Like, “you could lose half the class in here” huge, which some likely have already snuck away and is in the middle of doing exactly that.
It’s a little strange, walking around with someone you don’t know. But Eugene doesn’t try to make conversation, which you actually appreciate. He’s not exactly a talker— more like a low-level narrator muttering fish facts under his breath. You’re not sure if he realizes he’s doing it.
“This one’s called Chrysaora fuscescens,” he says quietly, pointing at the display. “They’re Pacific sea nettles. See how their tentacles trail behind? They can be, like, fifteen feet long.”
You hum. “So basically a floating death trap.”
Eugene laughs, caught off guard that you made conversation, expecting you to just look at him weird and continue on walking along the cylinder walk-through tunnel. “I guess, but they’re not aggressive. Just.. efficient.”
Both of you begin walking, and a silence falls over you two. A peaceful glow shines on both of you, you catch yourself staring at him for a few seconds too long admiring that same glow.
That is until he gasps, once again. He’s clutching a map of the whole aquarium, his eyes fluttering around the whole page. You give him a startled look as it came out of nowhere, like a jump-scare.
“Sorry, it’s, um.” He composes himself. “They have cuttlefish, and jellyfish,” he says, listing more and more creatures trying and failing to sound casual. “and sand tiger sharks!”
He says it like it's the coolest thing in the world, and maybe it is. Or maybe it's just the way his voice goes up a little at the end, like he can’t help being excited, like he forgot for a second that he’s supposed to be shy around people.
And for some reason, that makes your chest feel light.
You don’t let that show, of course. You just shrug, eyes forward, hands stuffed in your pockets. “That’s cool,” you say. “Sharks are kinda overrated, though.”
Eugene blinks. “What?”
You glance at him, smirking. “I mean, everyone talks about sharks. No one ever talks about the leafy sea dragons.” You recall a random species you made a pamphlet on in the 6th grade. They really were cool though.
Eugene’s jaw drops a little, as if you’ve just said something revolutionary. “Sea dragons,” he echoes, reverently. Then he pushes up his glasses, mumbling, “Those are actually my third favorite after the chambered nautilus and the, uh— giant Pacific octopus, but they’re really underrated. No one even knows they’re real half the time.”
You don’t say anything. You just let him talk. He’s rambling now, in that slightly-too-fast way he does when he’s excited and nervous at the same time, but you don’t mind.
In fact, it’s kind of... cute.
God help you.
“I didn’t realize you were this into fish,” you say.
That gets a quick glance from him. “They’re not just fish,” he says, voice small but serious. “They’re marine organisms. Some of them are invertebrates. Or cephalopods.”
“…Sorry,” he adds, ducking his head. “That probably sounded, like, a lot.”
You shrug. “No, it’s cool. You’re, really.. passionate. That’s kind of rare.”
Eugene looks at you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re making fun of him. When you don’t say anything else, he just nods, awkwardly. But his ears are definitely turning pink.
“They’re semi-aggressive. Sand tiger sharks, I mean. They have slow reproductive rates, which is part of why they’re vulnerable in the wild.”
Eugene leads you to the cuttlefish section and rambles the whole way.
You keep sneaking glances at him. The way he leans in close to the tank glass, the way his face lights up when he spots the display and just stops walking like it’s sacred.
After an hour or so, you both decide you’re hungry, so you eat lunch on a bench near the jellyfish exhibit, mostly because it’s quieter there. Eugene unwraps a very squished sandwich and you offer him some chips without really thinking about it.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, carefully taking just a few. “I, uh, forgot to pack sides.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Too busy researching aquarium species?”
He goes still. “...How’d you know?”
You smirk. “You’re kind of obvious.”
Eugene makes a small, choked noise in his throat and immediately takes a huge bite of sandwich to avoid answering.
You sip from your water bottle and look out at the glowing tank. Jellyfish pulse gently in the dark, drifting like little lanterns.
“I always thought jellyfish were kind of creepy,” you say.
Eugene swallows. “They don’t have brains.”
“Exactly.”
He shakes his head, like that’s the wrong take entirely. “But they’re efficient. They’ve existed for over 500 million years. That’s longer than dinosaurs.”
You glance at him again. “So you're saying they’re creepy and overachievers.”
His mouth twitches. It’s not a full smile, but it’s close. “I mean, maybe.”
After lunch you two go around the rest of the aquarium, Eugene making a mission to hit every section.
You two get to the Corral Reef display, standing beside each other just admiring the fish, shoulders almost touching. You once again look over at Eugene, him being so mesmerized by the different fish it warms your heart how peaceful he looks.
You couldn’t help but step away quietly enough for him to not notice, pull your phone out and snap a picture. The snapping sound of the picture is what breaks Eugene away from his trance, looking at you with wide eyes.
“Did you just—“
You nod slowly, a sheepish and also devilish smile on your face.
He rushes over to you, demanding you to delete it with a blush on his face hidden by the blue glow in the room.
You’re currently hiding your phone behind your back; if you take it out he’ll snatch it.
“I swear it’s not bad! Let me look at it!”
“If you haven’t looked at it then why are you assuming it looks good?”
“Because I’m sure you look good in any photo.”
Whatever that was implying, it slipped your mind, while it stopped Eugene in his tracks. Taking this chance, you open your camera app, looking at its most recent photo
The photo shows him standing before the coral reef exhibit, his face softly illuminated by the shifting blues and teals of the water. Vibrant corals and colorful fish cast a gentle glow that dances across his features. His expression is calm and contemplative, eyes slightly wide, lips curved into a subtle smile, the kind that appears when someone is truly absorbed by beauty.
You stared at the photo on your phone, forgetting for a second how to breathe. It wasn’t even posed. He looked beautiful. Not just in the pretty way, but in the way that made your chest ache a little.
He lunged for your phone. Not aggressively, more like he was trying to disarm a bomb he accidentally triggered. “I can’t let you keep that,” he mumbled, cheeks burning red as he wrestled it gently from your hand. “This is for everyone's safety, okay?”
“Eugene!”
“Listen, I’m doing you a favor. One day you’d look back at it and think, ‘Wow, why did I save this weird fish-guy moment?’” He tapped a few buttons with the determination of someone pulling the plug on a life support machine. “Gone. No one has to know.”
You blinked at your gallery, the photo to pop up is now a random one you took yesterday.
He looked a little sheepish. “You can take another one,” he offered, as if that made it better. “But like… warn me next time so I don’t look like I just saw God in the shape of a fish.”
You stared at him. He stared back. “You really did look beautiful,” you said, quiet and honest.
His eyes widened, his whole face redder than before. “I- I have to go look at literally anything else right now,” he stammered, turning sharply toward the next exhibit.
You smiled, phone still warm in your hand.
Whatever, you’ll just recover it from recently deleted.
—
On the bus ride back, you’re more tired than you thought. You’re half listening to music, half staring out the window, when you notice Eugene has something in his lap. It’s a little bag from the gift shop.
“Get a souvenir?”
He looks sheepish. “Uh. Yeah. Just a postcard.”
He shows you. It’s a photo of the jellyfish tank. Moody blues and purples, all softly lit.
“Huh,” you say. “Thought you’d go for something nerdier.”
“I almost got a squid plushie,” he admits. “But it was overpriced.”
You laugh under your breath. “Tragic.”
He glances at you, then at the card, then back again. “Do you want it?”
You blink. “What?”
“The postcard,” he says, hurriedly. “I— I just thought—“ He points at the postcard as if he was proving to you that the jellyfish were real. “You said jellyfish were creepy, so maybe this could be like… proof they’re not?”
You look at him, really look, and realize he’s not joking. He’s genuinely trying to offer you something, like it matters. So you take it.
“Thanks,” you say. “Guess I’ll hang it on my wall as a warning.”
Eugene actually smiles this time. A real, shy, little smile.
The bus bumps over a pothole and your shoulders knock together. You swear you hear his breath hitch slightly, but neither of you moves away.
You don’t know Eugene Ottinger. Not really.
But you think maybe you’d like to.