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It started with jellyfish.
The dim, bluish glow of the aquarium’s jellyfish tunnel painted strange ripples across Per's face as he stood watching them drift like lazy ghosts behind glass. Tar nudged his side with a sly smile.
“If we stare at these any longer, I might start floating too.”
“You float enough as it is,” Per said without looking away.
Tar pretended to be offended. “Excuse me for enjoying some peace.”
Per’s lips twitched.
Behind them, their class was gathered near the coral reef exhibit, where Mr Tan was giving yet another passionate monologue about ocean acidification. Mon had his phone out, recording the whole thing with an earnest smile, while Kim stood next to him, admiring Mon's dimples instead of the fish.
“Do you think they’ll notice if we disappear for a few hours?” Tar asked suddenly.
Per looked at him.
Tar shrugged, casual but eyes bright. “I have a guy at the pier. We could be on a boat to Koh Larn in twenty minutes.”
“Koh Larn?” Per echoed.
“Clear water. Real sea breeze. Actual freedom.”
Per glanced around. No one was paying attention. The idea was reckless, but the thought of being away from the suffocating structure of the trip — with Tar — was tempting. And the sparkle in Tar’s eyes was contagious.
“You’re impossible,” Per muttered.
“I’m adventurous,” Tar grinned. “And you need that in your life.”
They slipped out during a shift in exhibits. Tar led the way, ducking around groups of tourists and snapping a quick selfie of them grinning beside a plastic sea turtle. “Evidence for later,” he said.
They slipped out unnoticed, Tar grabbing two sodas from the vending machine on the way and tossing one to Per. A tuk-tuk ride later, they were speeding toward the pier, wind blowing through their hair and laughter bubbling between them like they were escaping a movie, not a club field trip.
...
They were breathless by the time they reached the dock. Tar’s contact, an older man in flip-flops named Uncle Pong, recognized him instantly.
“Another secret trip, Tar?”
“You know me,” Tar said. “Just an afternoon thing.”
The boat was small, sleek, and fast. Per clutched the railing as they picked up speed, the salty wind whipping through their hair. The mainland shrank behind them, the endless blue ahead promising something freer.
“You really planned all this?” Per shouted over the wind.
Tar gave him a triumphant grin. “I improvise like a pro.”
As the boat skimmed across the waves, Per glanced sideways. Tar’s eyes were closed, his head tilted back to catch the sun. There was something unguarded about him in that moment. Something that made Per feel both lighter and a little unsteady.
...
The boat sliced across the Gulf like a knife through soft fruit, leaving behind a white foamy trail and an increasing distance from the mainland. Tar stood near the bow, arms outstretched, wind whipping through his shirt like a windsail.
Per sat further back, arms crossed, doing a terrible job of hiding his amusement. “You’re going to fall overboard.”
Tar turned dramatically, voice raised above the wind. “I’m recreating cinema history, Per! Show some respect.”
“Oh my god,” Per groaned, but he was already getting up.
Tar extended a hand. “Come on. Don’t pretend like you haven’t always wanted to do the Titanic scene.”
“I haven’t,” Per said flatly. “I’m not a walking cliché.”
“Liar. Now get over here and be my Jack.”
Rolling his eyes but smiling despite himself, Per stepped forward and let Tar guide him to the front. Tar stood behind him, arms wrapped loosely around his waist, chin hovering near Per’s shoulder.
“You have to lean forward a bit,” Tar said. “And yell something dramatic.”
Per played along, breathless with laughter. “I’m... flying?”
“Wow,” Tar teased, tightening his arms. “So much passion.”
Per tilted his head slightly, just enough that their cheeks brushed. The sun was beginning to angle lower, casting golden highlights across Tar’s face as he smiled — a little less dramatic now, a little more real.
For a moment, it shifted. The wind was still loud, but the world felt suddenly quiet. Tar's hands rested lightly on Per’s hips. Per didn’t move.
Their faces were close. Too close.
Per turned just a little—
And then the boat hit a wave.
Hard.
They both yelped as the bow dipped, their balance thrown completely off. Tar’s arms flailed, Per grabbed a railing, and they tumbled into a heap on the deck, laughing hysterically.
“That,” Tar said, sprawled across Per’s lap, “was so much better than the movie.”
Per shoved him gently. “I told you. We’re not built for romance. We're built for bloopers.”
Tar looked up at him, grinning wide. “Speak for yourself. I was this close to kissing you.”
Per looked back at him — and then, slowly, his smile softened. “I know.”
Tar blinked. But before either of them could say more, the boat crested another wave, sending water spraying over the side.
They scrambled up, still laughing, still breathless.
“Come on, Jack,” Tar said, brushing water from his face. “Let’s get you to Koh Larn before the sea swallows us.”
Per bumped his shoulder. “You owe me a kiss scene with better footing.”
Tar smirked. “Deal. But next time, we bring a life vest.”
...
The sun was already high when Per adjusted his sunglasses and glanced over at Tar, who was fumbling with the straps of a rented snorkel mask.
"You've had that on backwards for five minutes," Per said, stifling a laugh as he leaned over to fix it for him.
Tar blinked. "Hey! I was just checking if the strap was... durable."
"Sure," Per smirked. "You're lucky you’re cute."
Tar’s cheeks went a bit pink under the sunlight, but he recovered quickly with a grin. “You think I’m cute? Wow. You really must be heat-stroked.”
They boarded the speedboat to one of the lesser-known beaches on Koh Larn, their laughter competing with the roar of the engine. The wind blew through their hair, and Per stole a few glances at Tar — the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way his hand always found Per’s arm whenever the boat bounced over waves. It was these little things, small but constant, that had started to feel more than friendly lately.
Once they reached the beach, they set down their bags and kicked off their sandals, the warm sand squishing between their toes. Tar immediately pulled Per into the water, splashing him before he could protest.
Per sputtered. “You’re so dead.”
“Come catch me then!” Tar called over his shoulder, wading out deeper into the sea.
They chased each other through the turquoise water until they were breathless, finally collapsing side by side, floating on their backs. The sun gleamed above them, the world quiet except for the soft lapping of waves.
Tar turned to look at Per, their shoulders brushing. “Hey… I’m really glad it’s just us today.”
“Yeah,” Per said, his voice softer now. “Feels easy. Just… simple.”
They floated in silence for a while. Then Tar added, teasingly, “So… still think I’m cute?”
Per didn’t look at him. “I never stopped.”
Tar blinked, unsure whether Per was joking. But when he turned to meet his eyes, Per was already looking at him — steady, serious, and something else. Something warm.
Tar’s voice dropped. “You’re... different when it's just us.”
Per gave a small laugh. “Maybe I like who I am around you.”
A pause. Then Tar reached over, tugging lightly at Per’s hand in the water. “Then let’s make more days like this.”
Per nodded, fingers tightening around his. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
Above them, the sun blazed on. And for once, everything felt perfectly still — like the universe had paused just for them.
...
The tide gently pushed them back toward shore, and neither of them let go of the other’s hand.
By the time they dragged themselves out of the water, the sun was beginning to dip low in the sky, casting warm golden hues across the beach. Their hair was wet, their clothes clinging to their skin, and their grins — though quieter now — hadn’t faded.
“Let’s grab something to eat before we pass out,” Tar said, nudging Per with his elbow.
They wandered over to a small beachfront stall, grabbing grilled squid skewers and coconut ice cream. They found a quiet spot under a tree, where a few lazy hammocks swayed between trunks, and sat side by side, barefoot in the sand.
Per peeled off a bit of squid and handed it to Tar without a word. Tar took it, raising an eyebrow. “Feeding me now? This is new.”
“You’re the one always forgetting to eat when you’re excited,” Per said.
Tar chewed thoughtfully. “Maybe I just like seeing how far you’ll go to take care of me.”
Per snorted. “Don’t test me.”
A comfortable silence settled over them. The orange glow of the sunset painted soft light on their faces. Tar tilted his head back, watching the sky.
“I always thought this kind of trip would feel lonely,” he murmured. “Just two people, no big plans, no one else around.”
Per looked over at him. “And now?”
Tar hesitated, then turned to meet his eyes. “Now it feels... perfect.”
There was a beat. Per reached for Tar’s hand again, this time without the sea as an excuse. His fingers slid easily into Tar’s, warm and sure.
“You know,” Per said, his voice quiet but sure, “I think I’ve liked you since you took credit for finding the book Kim wanted us to find for Mon.”
Tar grinned. “I knew it. You pretended to be mad, but you were smiling the whole time.”
“I was annoyed and smiling,” Per admitted. “That’s your fault.”
Tar laughed, his hand squeezing Per’s. “Well. I guess now it’s your fault I can’t stop looking at you.”
Per leaned back on one arm, gaze steady. “Then don’t stop.”
The sound of waves filled the space between them. And then, as if drawn by something inevitable, Tar leaned in. Per met him halfway.
It wasn’t dramatic, or rushed. It was quiet, like the tide returning to shore — natural and slow. A brush of lips, warm and certain, and when they parted, both were smiling.
“Next time,” Tar said, resting his head on Per’s shoulder, “we come back for a whole week.”
Per rested his cheek against Tar’s hair. “Deal.”
...
The sky had shifted again — from orange to dusky violet, and now to a deep, endless navy scattered with stars. The boat rocked gently beneath them, the distant lights of the mainland just starting to blink into view across the water.
Per sat with his knees drawn up, one arm resting on the edge of the boat. The wind was gentler now, cooler. He could still smell the ocean on his skin, in his hair. The salty tang clung to his shirt and to the soft, sun-warmed air between them.
Tar lay stretched out beside him, legs extended, his back against the bench seat, arms folded loosely across his chest. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep — not yet.
They hadn’t spoken much since leaving the beach. Not because there was nothing to say, but because nothing needed to be said. Everything important had already been felt in stolen glances, half-smiles, and the echo of a quiet kiss beneath a fading sun.
Per looked over at him. “You good?”
“Mmhmm,” Tar murmured without opening his eyes. “Just tired. But like... the good kind.”
“Same.”
A long pause. The boat hummed beneath them, its engine softened by distance and the hush of the water curling along its sides.
Then Tar opened one eye. “Come here.”
Per blinked. “Huh?”
Tar shifted slightly, patting the space beside him — or more accurately, the space on top of him.
“You’re gonna fall asleep sitting like that,” Tar said. “And then I’ll have to fish you out of the sea. Again.”
Per snorted, but after a beat, he gave in.
He slid down, resting his head against Tar’s chest. It was warm there. Steady. He could feel Tar’s heartbeat — soft, regular — like the quiet rhythm of the tide.
“See? Not bad,” Tar whispered, one arm coming up to wrap gently around his shoulder.
Per didn’t respond. He just let out a slow breath, tension unwinding from his body in careful threads. The day had been chaotic, loud, bright with sunlight and movement. But this moment — this was the stillness that came after.
After a few minutes, Tar’s voice came again, quieter now.
“Today was kind of perfect.”
Per murmured something in agreement, too far gone into comfort to form full words. Tar smiled.
“Do you think they’ll kill us when we get back?”
Per mumbled, “Let them try.”
They both laughed — soft, sleepy laughs that faded almost as quickly as they came. The boat swayed gently, stars above and sea below, as the two of them began to drift.
Tar’s fingers found Per’s hand again, loosely threading between them.
Per didn’t say it aloud, but he thought it — as he felt Tar’s chest rise and fall beneath him, as their breath synced, as the sea rocked them like a lullaby:
This feels like a beginning.
Like something that doesn’t have to end when they get off this boat, or when school picks back up, or when the world gets loud again.
He tightened his fingers in Tar’s just slightly.
And Tar — already half asleep — squeezed back.
The island was behind them. The lights ahead were distant. But for now, in between, Per and Tar floated in the quiet middle — a boy leaning on another boy, heads full of sunlight and salt, hearts full of something new and whole and quietly blooming.