When Kibum launches off of the pool siding, he knows something is wrong. Pain travels from his knee to the entire left side of his ribs, its path scorching his muscles and making his vision dance. He swallows too much water and, before he can pop his head above for a breath, is drifting slowly to the bottom of the swimming pool.

Kibum wishes he could say this was his first brush with death but that would be a lie and, if this was to truly be his last day, he really didn’t need yet another burden on his already doomed soul. He finally hits the bottom and the way the lights reflect in the water is comforting. They are dancing and he’s out of air and Kibum thinks that maybe that’s okay.

He doesn’t hear the life guards clamoring in after him or the horrified shrieks of his adoring fans. “Stand back!” A paramedic screams as he scrambles for a pulse. “Can we get some ing room over here or are you cops just going to stare?” He’s starting compressions when his partner reaches him. “About time.”

“No pulse?” Jonghyun asks as he digs through his bag for a pair of gloves.

“Obviously.”

“Let’s get him on a gurney.”

“Can’t.” Taemin grunts as he continues his ministrations. “We need to get his heart beating first.”

“We’ll continue compressions in the truck.”

“He’ll be brain dead by then.”

“Fine.” Jonghyun huffs, hands already uncapping a syringe. “I’m going to push 15mgs of epi.”

Taemin removes his hands and Jonghyun slams the needle into the swimmer’s .

Kibum is awake, then, rolling his body to the side and coughing up more water than he remembers swallowing. He can’t see, it’s too bright and if this is heaven there is much more pain than he thought.  

__________

When Kibum leaves the hospital he does so without informing his agency and in a black, worn hoodie from his training days. The news is everywhere.

“Kim Kibum, three time Olympic gold medal winner, collapsed Saturday morning in the middle of the 4000 meter freestyle. He was revived at the scene and transported to St. Mary’s Hospital in Seoul, where it is reported he is, now, in stable condition.”

He puts back the newspaper and digs into his pocket, the vibrations breaking his concentration. “What do you want?”

“You left the hospital?”

Kibum rolls his eyes and ducks into an empty alleyway.  He should have known Luna would be frantic. “Yeah.” It’s short and sweet and the most that he thinks he’s capable of saying right now.

“You should have told me.”

“I know.”

He hears her release a defeated sigh and braces himself for what is next.

“Listen, I was talking to someone in the office and got a name of a rehab...”

“Don’t do this to me, Luna. Not now.”

“I know. Okay? I know you’re hurting right now and that you think that retiring is your only option...” She lets the sentence fade into momentary silence and it breaks Kibum’s heart because it feels like she is giving up on him, even if she doesn’t mean to. Retirement hadn’t even crossed his mind. “But he’s a miracle worker! Worked with all the greats: Mich-“

“I’ll think about it.” He mutters as he hangs up his phone and stuffs it back into his pocket.

Kibum is grateful that his manager is not here to see the tears streaming down his face. He is grateful that there is no one in the alley to see his shame as he leans his back against the brick, sobs shaking him and his shoulders. The heavy weight of his grief bearing down on him, consuming him entirely. Because for the first time since he was a child, Kim Kibum does not know what he is going to do.

__________

For as long as Kibum could remember, he loved the water. He remembers playing in the river next to his house and the way the older kids would point and laugh when his diaper would get swept upstream. He feels his face flush, the mere recollection of such ridicule still holding the same sting of embarrassment he felt as a child. And suddenly, he’s remembering a whole string of embarrassments: the way kids would laugh at his worn clothes and unwashed hair, the way his classmates would make him do tricks for their leftover lunches, the way they would chant “Trash” as they followed him home from school…

Kibum remembers it all, as most children do. It was a factor in his success, if he were honest. His hate fueled him. Soon, he was beating college kids in laps at the local swimming pool and catching the eyes of Korea’s top recruiters. The more he trained the broader his shoulders, the more lean his body, and the more adoration he received. And Kibum found he liked the attention almost as much as he liked swimming.

He was recruited for the national team when he was just 16 and won his first gold a year later. There were endorsement deals and commercials, television shows and dating scandals. But most of all, there was money. And, for once, Kibum didn’t have to worry about begging for leftover lunches or worn clothes and unwashed hair. He bought his momma a new house, on the nice side of town where people were always wearing suites and fancy dresses like they didn’t have a care in the world…a house Kibum seldom saw between all of his training.

Kibum picks himself up from the pavement and he feels a tug in his knee. He winces and takes a moment to catch his breath. He stares down at his leg and is suddenly angry, furious that his body should choose to betray him so early in his career. Kibum rubs it gently, as if he can massage away the pain, and thinks about his manager’s words.

“Retirement?” he utters in disbelief. He’s only 22 for Christ sakes and he has to push back the tears before he collapses all over again.