Darkness. Cold, suffocating, inescapable. The weight of the water crushes you, dragging you deeper, stealing the last bit of air from your lungs. Your chest burns, your limbs grow heavy, and the world fades into nothing.

Then—pain.

A violent gasp rips through you as your body convulses, water spilling from your lips. Your lungs seize, desperate for air, and suddenly, hands—his hands—are gripping you, shaking, grounding you.

“Come on,” Jason’s voice is raw, breaking. “Don’t you dare do this to me.”

Your vision swims, but he’s right there, hovering over you, his soaked hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes wild—desperate. His chest rises and falls in ragged breaths, his hands still gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again.

“You were gone,” he rasps, his voice wrecked with something deeper than anger. Fear. “I pulled you out, I—” His jaw clenches. He swipes a shaking hand down his face before cupping yours, his thumb brushing over your lips, as if reassuring himself that you’re breathing.

You shiver beneath him, but it’s not from the cold—it’s the way his touch lingers, the way his body is pressed so close, the way his eyes darken with something raw and unspoken.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your lips. His fingers tangle in your hair, his grip tight, possessive.