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"Puffins mate for life. In fact, most return to the same burrow each year, even after traveling thousands of miles at sea."

I press my lips into a flat line and spot him peering over at me side-eyed. "I was in here for like twenty minutes before I came to find you," he admits, leaning even closer. "I've seen it twice already."

I nudge his shoulder with mine, inhaling the smell of him that comes wafting my way as his body shifts. Jace chuckles, then brushes my thumb with his.

Emotion unexpectedly crawls up my throat, and I home in on one of the birds flapping its wings in the corner. "So, they pick each other," I manage, fighting the blockage. "Like people."

He hums like that's exactly what he meant. "And they go off on their own sometimes—like everyone I guess." He pauses long enough for me to notice. "But they always find their way back to each other."

I swallow it all down—his words and my reaction—but the thought sticks in my chest.

I try to figure out the reason, watching the penguins flutter across the ice, some flying away on their own like Jace just said. Sadness rushes through me, then anxiety. And still, I don't know why.

"Here," Jace says, tugging gently on my arm. He pulls me to the floor, and I'm grateful for the distraction. I collapse slowly, and by the time I'm sitting, all of it's gone—the worry, the wonder.

Now, all I feel is him.

"What are we doing?" I giggle, completely reset again, watching as he stretches his long legs carefully in front of him.

He lays down fully, body flat against the ground like he has no intention of moving anytime soon.

He taps the spot beside him. "Come here."

"Why?" I ask, shaking my head.

He doesn't answer, probably because I'm doing it anyway. I look around, surprised to see way less people noticing us than I expected. Even more at ease, I tuck myself safely against him.

"That."

Jace points upward, and I follow his finger as the world they've built around us shifts.

The picture on the wall rises so those still standing can now see what's swimming underneath the surface.

But us?

We see it painted on the ceiling.

The puffins are gone—faded away as the image moved—and in their place are a dozen otters.

The room glows blue as they float on their backs, paws linked, drifting against the gentle current. The narrator speaks, and people mumble around us. I'm sure there's plenty more to see—walls of fish and seals dipping beneath the tiny waves.

But I can't move. I'm frozen like the permafrost along the edges of the water.

"Cool right?" Jace asks as I stare at the way they hold each other right above me. Not trapped. Just… connected.

My insides tighten again.

"Am I high right now?"

Jace snorts out a laugh. "Um… I don't—" He turns just his head toward me. "Are you?"

I roll mine so that I'm facing him. "No," I say, still awestruck. "But doesn't it kind of feel that way?"

He looks back at the ceiling, but I don't. "Yeah," he chuckles. I watch as his eyes roll across the length of it. The thought hits me that I could do this forever. Lay here with him—two otters connected as the world passes us by. "It kinda does."

I nod like that explains it all, then lose myself again as I follow a pair, watching as they break off from the rest.

"You think you'd still go someday?" Jace asks.