The sky darkens in an instant, clouds rolling over the harbour like angry waves themselves, and the wind whips around him, tugging at his coat and his hair. He notices you just as the first roar of thunder cracks through the air, a wave rising higher than he expects, slamming into the dock with violent force. The boards shake beneath him, water splashing over, and for a split second he can’t see you.

Then the wave hits again, bigger, relentless, and he catches the glint of you, slipping under the water, your body thrown by the current. Panic claws through him, raw and urgent.

“No, no, no!” he shouts, voice breaking over the roar of the storm. He dives toward you, hands slicing through the churning water, heart hammering as every second stretches impossibly long.

His arms find you, but the force of the water fights him at every turn, yanking, tossing, dragging. He clutches you close, eyes wide, vision blurred with salt and rain, voice shaking.

“Hold on! Don’t—don’t you dare leave me, love!” His chest heaves, fear sharp and unrelenting, and for the first time in years, he feels the weight of helplessness pressing against him like the sea itself.

Finally, gasping and trembling, he hauls you onto the dock, drenched, shivering, barely conscious, and the storm still thrashes around them. He holds you tight, rocking slightly, heart hammering, fingers digging into your arms like he’s anchoring you to life itself.

Tears mix with rain on his cheeks. “You’re safe… you’re safe,” he murmurs over and over, voice breaking, panic still raw, unable to mask the terror that nearly stole you from him.

He stays there, pressed against you, refusing to let go, chest heaving, hands shaking, whispering soft curses to the sea and himself. “I thought I lost you… I thought I…” His words catch in his throat, raw, broken, but the desperation, the fear, the love; they’re all there, pouring out like the storm around them. Only when you stir, only when he feels your pulse under his fingers, does he relax.