Deep Blue

When I was eleven, my family went on vacation to Hawaii. We took a boat out to a secluded reef in the shade of a lush cove, where the water was a deep blue and you couldn't see the bottom. Peering out through their comically-large snorkelling goggles, my parents beckoned for me to join them in the water, but I was afraid to jump in.

I was afraid of what might meet me there in that deep blue.

I stood at the edge of the boat, waiting—for what, I don't know… perhaps some divine assurance that I would be alright if I jumped. It never came.

My parents swam around in the vicinity of the boat, gazing at whatever it was beneath the water. Squinting, I tried to make out what was down there, but above the surface I could see nothing.

Scintillating flecks of light danced in the noonday sun. Turquoise swells broke gently against the hull of the boat. Beneath it all, that deep blue plunged into unknown depths of rich shadow. I realised that the ocean was mesmerising as much as it was terrifying.

As I craned my neck to see over the edge, the rocking of the boat threatened to pitch me into the water. My heart skipped a beat as I imagined the waves rushing up to swallow me whole, never to spit me back out. But I couldn't stop staring.

I don't know what went through my head right then, but I found myself squeezing my eyes shut, clenching my fists.

I took a deep breath.

And I jumped.

I opened my eyes to a flurry of bubbles, but in a moment they cleared and I saw the beautiful world that I had been missing.

What took my breath away (I suppose in a quite literal sense) was the sheer number of colours—the bright hues of a googly-eyed yellow tang, the shocking pink markings of a parrotfish flashing against blue scales, the waving tentacles of anemones in multitudinous shades. I felt like I was immersed in a chaotic, colourful dance.

There were fish of all shapes and sizes—I couldn't name them all back then. I gawked at the subtle iridescence of a black triggerfish, giggled internally at the spindly form of a trumpetfish. Even the moray eel peering out from a crevice didn't scare me.

The coral formed mountains and valleys and towers and caves, every nook and cranny teeming with movement. I was enraptured, lost in this new world full of colour and life.

That was when I fell in love with the ocean—with that deep blue.

And to think that I almost missed it…

—

“Caleb?” I started at the sound of my name.

Steven stood an arm’s length away. The blue-green light filtering through the aquarium tunnel rippled across his dark skin, highlighting the contours of his face. He smiled. I loved his smile—always warm and genuine.

"You looked like you were zoning out for a second there," he said. His voice echoed off the glass walls, ringing over the quiet shuffling and murmuring of passers-by.

“I was just lost in thought,” I replied quietly.

As I spoke, a sandbar shark swam overhead, gliding effortlessly with languid strokes of its tail. Looking at that elegant, powerful creature, I felt a swell of awe inside me.

"I love how your eyes light up in this place, even when you've been here a million times already. You must really love it, don't you?"

I smiled and nodded, turning to him. "Thanks for bringing me here."

He moved closer to me. I could see that he was wearing the earrings I got him for his birthday—round studs boasting proud stripes of pink, purple, and blue. His gaze met mine, those soft, brown eyes of his sparkling with a smile. “Happy six-month anniversary.”

Six months already since we had started dating... I could hardly believe it. It felt like it had passed in an instant. And yet the way he looked at me now was the same as when he had first kissed me on the park bench that night.

My heart fluttered as he said those words, like I was getting the butterflies all over again. But I wished he hadn't spoken so loudly—it was echoey in the tunnel. People might hear…

Steven was close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body, despite the chill of the air conditioning. I wanted to move even closer, but my eyes darted to the other people in the tunnel. Were those some strange looks shot in our direction?

I drew a shaky breath. "Let's go look at the tropical reefs section, shall we?"

Maybe there would be fewer people there.

Without waiting for an answer, I walked briskly past him out of the tunnel.

As I walked, Steven caught up to me, reaching for my hand. I wanted to lace my fingers between his and squeeze tight… but I just couldn’t. I sunk my hands deep into my pockets.

A step ahead of him and with eyes trained ahead, I couldn't see his face. But I felt something break there in the space between us.

The tropical reefs section of the aquarium featured a big, round window into a vibrant reef, bathed in turquoise light. With anemones waving gently and fish darting about, that mesmerising circle of colour would seem to shift and swirl in a way that I never seemed to tire of.

But this time, I couldn't seem to focus on anything. Somehow, the light seemed too harsh, the colours gaudy, the textures and patterns bewildering.

Steven came up behind me, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Caleb, what’s wrong?”

I gently pushed his hand away. My heart was in my throat. “Please, not here…”

I looked into his eyes and they were wet, and so were mine.

“Are you… ashamed of me?" he asked, voice breaking. "Are you ashamed of-“

I put a hand to his lips quickly. “Please, not so loud!” I said in a hushed tone. I swallowed. “Maybe we should go back to my apartment.”

“Caleb, I brought us here to celebrate our love… not to hide it.” His voice was tinged with pain and frustration, and I looked away in shame.

"I thought I could do it," I said. "I thought I could be brave and… proud..."

I sighed. I felt small and vulnerable standing there, and my voice dropped to barely a whisper. "…but I'm scared."

A silence fell between us, feeling like an eternity. I wanted to look at him—look into his eyes and know that everything was alright. But I kept my gaze fixed on the ground.

When Steven finally spoke, his voice was soft. "I'm sorry."

I looked up at him.

"I understand how you feel." His voice was trembling ever so slightly, and he swallowed. "I shouldn't have pushed you."

I sighed. "It's alright. I know I shouldn't be a scaredy-cat."

"No," he said, shaking his head, "it's normal to be scared—don't be ashamed of that. I just hope you know that I'm always here for you, even when you're scared."

He smiled softly, and the light from the circular window behind him looked like a halo around his head. "You're already brave in so many ways you don't know."

I held his gaze for an eternal moment, slowly leaning closer. I swear that people were staring, but as I looked deeper into his eyes everything else faded into a turquoise blur.

And in that swirling circle of colour… I kissed him.

I didn't know how beautiful the water could be until I jumped.

A note from the author:

This short story was very heavily inspired by Yonatan Tal's animated short film Aquarium, linked below. I had first seen the film years ago, but not having remembered the title I was unable to relocate it, until—by some miracle—I stumbled across it again just last week. Deep Blue was my attempt at recapturing how I felt watching the film for the first time—I was still very much in the closet about my own queer identity at that point, and Aquarium resonated with me in way that felt very real and grounded, but also ethereally beautiful at the same time. It's good to see that Yonatan's work is resurfacing after so many years (at least in my corners of the internet).

Also—random side note—I was today years old when I learned that a permit is a kind of fish? Who knew? (Came across this fact in my search for the closing image to the story.)

Anyway, thank you for reading, and I'll see you in the next story!

– TYC