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The lights shimmered blue above their heads, refracted through glass and filtered by the slow, elegant glide of manta rays. The hum of water pumps and muffled chatter filled the air around them, but to Nene, it felt oddly quiet. Peaceful. Or maybe just… tense, in a good way? She wasn’t sure.
“This tank is kinda romantic,” she muttered under her breath, hugging her bag tighter to her chest as she walked a little ahead. She didn’t mean for Rui to hear that.
But of course, he did.
“Oh?” Rui’s voice curled around her like smoke—gentle, amused, always just a little too close. “Would you say I am romantic, Nene?”
Her cheeks flared with heat.
“Stop fishing for compliments, weirdo,” she shot back quickly, keeping her eyes locked on a clownfish swirling past the glass. “We literally came here because you said you wanted to ‘study bioluminescence in a live context.’” She mimicked his voice, all airy and theatrical.
He laughed softly, slipping up beside her with his hands in his coat pockets. “That was the excuse. Doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying the… context.”
The aquarium was dim and glowing, lit mostly by the tanks—deep blues, eerie greens, and soft purples danced over their faces. People passed by in clusters: families with kids pressed to the glass, couples holding hands, students sketching on tablets. But Rui and Nene had fallen into a quiet pocket of space near the jellyfish dome, their silhouettes caught in the glow of the pulsating creatures floating in slow, hypnotic spirals.
They stood side by side in front of the jellyfish tank, bathed in the eerie glow of soft pinks and blues. The creatures pulsed gently in the water, trailing their tendrils like delicate ghosts.
“You know,” Nene said, squinting at the glass, “jellyfish don’t have brains. Or hearts.”
Rui blinked, intrigued. “Really?”
“Yeah.” She folded her arms, tilting her head slightly. “No bones, no blood, no nervous system. They just kind of… drift. Just floating around, translucent. Quite peaceful.”
Rui tilted his head, a slow smile forming. “So if I were a jellyfish, would you still come to see me?”
“Depends,” she muttered, eyes glued to the glass. “Only if you shut up and let yourself drift.”
“Tragic. I’d be the loudest jellyfish in the ocean.”
“Exactly why you’d get kicked out of the tank.”
He chuckled under his breath, watching the light ripple across her face as she turned her gaze back to the water. “You’re still here though.”
She didn’t answer. But she didn’t walk away either.
But her expression softened. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Rui was watching the tank with something wistful in his gaze, like he saw more than just sea creatures—like he saw metaphors and secrets hidden in every ripple.
“You really like this stuff, huh?” Rui asked, his voice softer now as they lingered near a tank glowing with drifting sea nettles.
Nene shrugged, eyes still fixed on the jellyfish. “It’s calming. Everything just floats. No noise, no pressure.”
There was a pause, the kind that settled between them like the water in the tanks—quiet, deep, full of things unsaid. The soft glow of the jellyfish shimmered across her face, and Rui found himself watching her more than the tank.
Rui turned his gaze back toward her then, something softer slipping into his tone. “I like being here with you.”
Nene’s throat tightened. “You’re only saying that because I didn’t let you get lost in the shark tunnel.”
“That was a treacherous turn. I’m forever in your debt.”
She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips now. Rui had that effect—always dramatic, always poetic, and yet somehow still grounding. Still… kind. Even when he was teasing the hell out of her.
They wandered deeper into the aquarium, past the seahorses and reef tunnels, until they reached a small open space with a giant overhead dome. The tank above them stretched like a sky full of ocean stars, rays drifting lazily over their heads. Rui laid down on one of the viewing benches, arms crossed behind his head.
“Join me?” he said casually, patting the empty space beside him without looking.
She hesitated, then dropped her bag and lay beside him, shoulder brushing his just slightly. They both stared up at the slow, drifting shapes above them.
“This feels like a dream,” Rui murmured.
“It’s real,” she said.
A silence settled between them. Not awkward—just still.
Then Rui turned his head slightly toward her. “Nene.”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t need bioluminescence to light up a place.”
She blinked. Looked over at him, ready to scoff.
But Rui wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t teasing. Just… sincere.
“…You’re such a sap,” she mumbled, looking away quickly.
His fingers brushed hers—gentle, unsure.
She didn’t pull away.
The jellyfish kept floating above them like glowing stars, and somewhere in the deep hush of water and glass, a current shifted between them. Not dramatic. Not theatrical.
Just real.