"Sometimes I just want to drown."

"What?" He raised his eyebrows, her statement causing confusion, curiosity, and perhaps a bit of worry.

"I want to drown–in music, in emotion, then in numbness. Want it to surround me, engulf me, and swallow me whole. I think that would make me happy."

"Drowning would make you happy," he said as something between question and statement.

She murmured her confirmation and pulled one of her legs that were dangling over the edge of the dock up against her chest, resting her chin on top of it.

His worry evaporated, smiling slightly. It must have been the peppermint tea that she'd been so infatuated with lately, putting her in a dreamy mood.

He humored her, as he understood the type of desire she had. "Sometimes I want to lose myself in art. I want it to become real, to show me the parts of it that just can't be put on a canvas, getting lost in the endless possibilities," he paused, "After all, what is our purpose in life but to find happiness for ourselves, right?"

It was her philosophy, he knew.

She smiled at the ocean, and then shifted so she could look at him, cheek pressed to knee.

The corners of his eyes curled up to match his lips when their gazes met, it was one of the things she loved the most about him.

Happiness wasn't tangible, but when he smiled, she could feel it.

And so maybe they wouldn't be able to find happiness in drowning or going astray, but they would be able to find happiness in each other.