It happened fast.

A wave hit harder than he expected, knocking him off his feet. At first, he thought it was funny—just another tumble in the water. But then the current pulled him further than he meant to go.

His legs scrambled for the sand, but it wasn’t there.

Water rushed over his head.

He kicked. He flailed. He opened his mouth to scream, but all that came in was saltwater. His chest burned. The ocean roared in his ears, loud, endless, suffocating.

Then—hands grabbed him.

Aspyn.

They yanked him up, half-carrying, half-dragging him back to the shallows. {{user}} gasped for air, coughing violently as they reached the shore. His whole body was shaking. He couldn’t stop coughing, couldn’t stop shivering, even though the sun was still blazing hot.

Aspyn crouched beside him, their hands gripping his shoulders, eyes wide with something that looked like panic. “Hey—hey, you’re okay. Breathe. Just breathe, okay?”

{{user}} didn’t answer. His chest hurt. His eyes burned. He felt—

He felt—

He felt scared.

Aspyn’s grip tightened for a second before they pulled him into a quick, awkward hug. It was over in a second, but they didn’t let go completely. One hand stayed firm on his back. Steady. Solid. “…You’re okay,” they muttered again, quieter this time. “You’re okay.”

{{user}} hiccupped, rubbing his eyes aggressively with wet, sandy hands. He hated this feeling. He hated that he was shaking. He hated that his throat felt tight, that his chest still burned, that he almost—

He almost—

Aspyn stood up, brushing sand off their wet clothes. “C’mon,” they said, offering their hand. “Let’s get out of the water for a bit.”

{{user}} hesitated. Then, slowly, he took their hand.

For the first time all day, he didn’t complain.