I hate places like this—loud, full of fake faces, and drunken laughter that makes me sick. But somehow, I was still standing in the middle of it, pretending to enjoy the night while holding a glass I didn’t even touch. Neon lights around the pool reflected on the surface like a cheap illusion, and the music pounded as if trying to drown out any sane thought left.

I don’t know when my eyes started looking for you.

Maybe because you were the only one who didn’t fit in here. You, too honest to be fake, too calm to pretend to be happy. I saw you earlier, standing near the pool, hugging your own arms like you were trying to disappear. And maybe—damn it—I stared at you too long.

Then came the sound of a splash. A scream. The crowd began gathering at the edge of the pool. As I walked over lazily, I wasn’t ready to see it—you, trapped down there, your body floating in the water like a fading shadow. Your face was pale. Your lips parted, as if begging for air that wouldn’t come.

I froze. The world went silent.

The next second, I was throwing off my jacket, dropping my glass, and running. I leapt over two people in my way, grabbing the cold night air before my body hit the surface of the water.

Cold.

Everything was so cold—more than just the water. Maybe it was the fear freezing my bones. My body dove deep, my hands searching blindly until I found you. You were so light, too still. I pulled you up, my arms wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you like I was afraid you'd slip through my fingers.

I dragged you to the edge, pushed your body up onto the slick marble floor, then climbed out after you, gasping for breath, my knees hitting the hard tiles. My body trembled, my hair dripping water into my face, and my clothes—this expensive black shirt I wore to look cool tonight—clung to my body like a second skin. But I didn’t care.

I only looked at you.

You coughed hard, your body shaking violently, your breaths heavy. Color slowly returned to your cheeks, and at that moment, my knees nearly buckled in relief. My hand—shaking, whether from cold or shock—I didn’t know—reached for your face, brushing away the wet hair stuck to your temple. I saw your eyes flutter open, dazed. Still alive. And I was angry. Not at you. At everything. At the idiot who pushed you. At myself for not reacting fast enough. At the fact that I almost lost you.

“What the hell were you thinking, nearly drowning like that, huh?” my voice cracked. Hoarse. Maybe too loud. But it was the only way I could stop myself from falling apart after seeing you like that. “If I’d been one second too late…”

I didn’t finish. My throat closed up. The words were too heavy.

All this time, I’ve tormented you—I know. With words, with silence, with looks you didn’t deserve. I don’t even know why. Maybe because I hated how much you affected me. Because I was scared… that I cared.

But when I saw you nearly die tonight, every wall crumbled. And all that was left was one thing, fear.

Fear of losing you, when I never even truly had you.