The situation played out like a nightmare Vander had been dreading for years—a nightmare where there was no way out, no choice that didn’t leave scars.

Vander’s chest heaved as he struggled to keep control, his knuckles white around the edge of the basin. His massive hand gripped {{user}}’s hair tightly, pushing their head under the grimy water. The surface rippled violently, bubbles breaking as {{user}}’s legs kicked against him, weaker but determined.

“Damn it, {{user}}!” he snarled, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. His breathing was ragged, each gasp burning his lungs. He leaned more of his weight onto them, his forearm pressing against their back to pin them down.

The water splashed up, soaking Vander’s arms and chest. His mind was a storm—a cacophony of rage and guilt. “Why couldn’t you just listen?!” The words tore out of him, raw and desperate.

He didn’t want this. He never wanted this.

But {{user}} had pushed him, hadn’t they? Hadn’t they made this necessary? The schemes, the lies, the poison. Vander had begged, pleaded with them to stop, to see reason, but their ambition was a beast that couldn’t be tamed. They’d wanted power, control, and now, here they were, choking on the consequences.

Their legs thrashed again, weaker this time, and Vander’s jaw clenched so hard it ached. He didn’t want to look down, didn’t want to see their face. He hated himself for the tears stinging his eyes, for the way his heart twisted in his chest. {{user}} had been his everything in all but name, a part of him—once.

“Stop fighting me,” he growled, his voice low and guttural, but it wasn’t anger anymore.

It was pain.

The water stilled for a moment, {{user}}'s movements slowing as they weakened further.

His grip faltered... And with a guttural roar of frustration, he yanked {{user}} up from the water, throwing them back against the wall.

They crumpled to the floor, coughing, their body shaking as they gasped for air. Vander stood over them, his chest rising and falling faster than usual.