Jihoon knew the storm was coming when he felt the air thicken around him. The clouds drifting in from the over the sea brought deafening claps of thunder and harsh streaks of light. Wind blew branches into Jihoon’s window as he sat at his desk, curled into a blanket, school papers laid out in front of him. His hands kept twitching to check his phone, mind scattered over anything but his notes on saltwater manifestations.

“As expected, this evening’s storm has taken the residents of Los Angeles completely by surprise.”

“Yes, people are being advised to avoid staying outdoors for too long as torrential rain and strong winds are expected to increase throughout the course of the night. Forecasters are saying the worst of it should be gone by dawn but are advising not to take any small vessels out to sea until at least midday tomorrow.”

Jihoon’s head comes into contact with his desk, pulling the blanket further around him. Come on, Jisoo, text me back. He presses the home button on his mobile, the smiling background of himself and Joshua lighting up in front of him, but no little green icon telling him he has a message.

Joshua should’ve been done sailing hours ago — Jihoon doesn’t even want to think about what could happen if he was still out in the bay when the storm started getting rough. The bad images plague his mind like a virus: his boyfriend’s mangled body being tossed around the ocean; his poor bones being crushed between the bow of his boat and a rock front; the light leaving his eyes as he desperately claws his way to the surface.

Jihoon pushes out from his desk with a jolt and grabs his phone in a hurry. He presses the second number on speed dial and paces the length of his shared, box-like room until the tone turns to voicemail. He groans quietly, not too loud to wake his sleeping brother, but enough to quell his frustration and panic until another boom of thunder claps. Joshua’s always been the one to pull Jihoon close when he’s shivering, afraid of a storm.

“It’s just a little bit of wet rain and a little bit of wimpy electricity—” (Jihoon swears he can hear that honey voice right next to him.) “ —you’re safe right here with me, Jihoon.”

And Jihoon knows he is. He’s safe on land, safe with his family. But Joshua might not be, and it only takes one more rumble and the lights in his house to flicker before Jihoon’s pulling on his coat and sprinting out into the storm.

This is bad.

Joshua’s hands burn from tugging on the rough ropes, his gloves lost to some monstrous wave coming to crash down on him.

This is so very, very bad.

The sailing dinghy plunges side to side, roughly rocking over the ocean with masts broken and what was left of the sails to guide him. The dark skies above him crackle and clap in anger, heavy rain striking his skin like the sea had a vengeance against the people.

“I think we should call it a day,” Amber had said just after beating Joshua in another race around the pier. “You can try and win some other day.”

Joshua looked out to the sun almost sinking behind the horizon. The wind was inviting, the sound of the waves sloshing was alluring. It was such a beautiful evening, he couldn’t stand to leave it be just yet.

“You go on ahead,” he called to his companion. “I’m going to go on one more run.”

“You sure?” Amber challenged. “Those clouds don’t look too friendly.”

Joshua glanced up at the foul looking congregation of dark clouds overhead. “I’ll be fine, I’ll dock before they cause any real trouble.” And with that, he swung his weight to the left, and the wind blew his sails further out to sea.

Joshua wishes he’d gone back with Amber now. He wishes he was at home, probably drinking a cup of tea and distracting Jihoon from doing school work. He wishes he wasn’t soaked through and being bombarded with heavy waves and freezing winds. He wishes he wasn’t losing control of his dinghy, being flung around like a rag doll, or had absolutely no idea where he actually was.

This is probably the most bad Joshua could ever be.

“Please,” Jihoon’s voice calls to him. “Be careful.”

Joshua gives the ropes one last tug with his entire body. Blood drips from his palms, his sides screaming in protest.

“Always.”

The cables snap, rope singing Joshua’s skin, and his body is sent flying into the freezing depths of the unknown sea.

Jihoon takes a second to stare up at the tall, white house on the corner of the street. Joshua’s family has always been well off, and it shows in the vast expanse of the house they call their home, with it standing three stories to the sky, with a rooftop garden currently savaged by the storm. The lights inside are mostly off, save for the downstairs foyer and one light upstairs which Jihoon begs is Joshua or at least his mom. He huddles up under the porch over the door and rings the doorbell twice.

Please be home. Please be home. Please be home.

The light flickers on as the heavy black door opens. Mrs. Hong stands there, peeking through the crack, seeming to let out a breath when she notices it’s just her son’s boyfriend. Her son’s very, very damp boyfriend.

“Jihoon?” she questions, still with a hint of an accent. “You must be freezing! What are you doing out in the storm?”

Jihoon accepts her offer of entering their home and tilts his head. Before he can utter a panicked word, Mrs. Hong adds, “Is Jisoo not with you?”

The sinking feeling in his gut is enough to pain him. “I— He isn’t home?”

Mrs. Hong looks between Jihoon and the rain flooding the street outside. “No, he told me was going sailing, I assumed he’d gone back with you.”

Jihoon wants to break down and cry. “He—he might still be out there,” he chokes. “He hasn’t texted or called me at all.”

Mrs. Hong runs pale.

This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening. Please, God, if you’re there…

Jihoon’s never been one for worship but prays that all those years Joshua spent at Sunday service amounts to something now.

“I’ll call Jun,” he says, frozen fingers fumbling with his phone. “He has the number of the girl he went racing with, he could just be with her and they could be safe. His phone could've just ran out of battery or been lost. He's always losing it..."

Could. As Mrs. Hong ushers him into the warmth of the living room, announcing that she’ll call the coast guard, the words Jihoon repeats to himself seem to be less and less believable.

Air.

Joshua can’t breathe. He can’t move. He can’t think.

Swim.

Forces drag him further from the light, like the hands of the sea are clasped around his ankles, pulling him deeper and deeper. He’s so cold, his limbs are tired, he can barely keep his eyes open to see the waves wash over the raging surface.

Jihoon.

Joshua never really believed in the whole life flashing before your eyes schtick, but as he feels the ache of his chest trying to hold in his last breath, all he can think about are the people he loves. He sees his mom, the happiness she wears when her son makes her proud, every warm cup of tea drunk together on the rooftop talking about whatever they could. He sees his dad, every time he’s taken him out to sea, and shared just a little bit of his passion with him. He sees Jihoon, and everything he loves about him from his hairs on his head to the tips of his toes. He remembers every time he’s ever felt happy in his life, every medal, every hard practice paying off; every smile, every laugh, every fight and difference settled with Jihoon, every time he’s had him wrapped up in his arms, every kiss he’s ever placed on his lips.

He can’t leave them, not like this, not now.

He cranes to find the fight inside of him, the sheer will to keep his legs kicking. He promised his mom he’d be home for tea, and that he’d go fishing with his dad this weekend. He promised Jihoon he’d be safe, goddammit. He can’t die now. He won’t die now.

Suddenly, his body screams at him in pain, crushed against the force of a tide and a rough, jagged edge that pierces deep into his side. Rocks. He’s not far from the surface, which means he can’t be far from shore. I  will not die now. With all the might he can muster, the water blurring red around him, Joshua pushes his body, gripping one saw-edged rock to another. As he moves, his body catches more obstacles, incising deep into the arms and legs. He wants to scream but can see the dark cloud and flashes of lighting merge and wobble the more he wills his body to find a footing in the sand that lifts higher and higher beneath him.

I have to get home, I have to see Jihoon. I will not die now.

Joshua is in so much pain. Every time he takes a towards the surface it’s like a thousand bones are cracking in his skin. He thinks of all the times he’s heard his friends shout for him, his mom and dad cheer for him, Jihoon joking he’ll make it worth it if he wins. Nothing will ever amount to the need Joshua has just to hold him even if it’s for one last time, not even the relief of the air soaring into his lungs as he breaks the waves and takes the only breath that’s ever mattered in his life.

“Help!” He knows its useless calling, but it’s the only thing he can think to use his voice for before he’s dragged back under momentarily, then thrown back up to breathe.

Just a few meters away, through the thick, heavy rain, Joshua can see the dark outline of what he hopes is land, or at least a large ship not too big enough to sail right over him. In a new strike of lightning, he gets a flash of cliff, waves crashing continuously against it’s white, crumbling face. With what strength is left kindling inside him, Joshua sets off in that way, battling the ripper waves and sinking below every few seconds. It feels like years have passed him until he can finally feel the waves thin around him, sand hard beneath his feet, and the exhaustion wash over his whole body as he wades his way through a resisting current, and crashes down in a heap on the sinking shore. He can’t bring himself to care about the tongue of the sea still lapping over him— he’s on land, he’s alive, he can breathe and make it back home another day. In some twisted relief, he chokes out a laugh, the taste of salt water on his tongue but the feeling of take that, mother nature in his frozen, seizing bones.

“He said he was going to do one more round, then he’d come in.”

Jihoon doesn’t think he could sink further into despair. “So, he’s not with you?” He chews relentlessly at his nails to the point they sting and paces his way around the Hong’s family home.

“No, I’m sorry Jihoon,” Amber takes a breath in. “You don’t think… he’s still out there? Do you?”

Jihoon wants nothing more than to just cry, go to sleep and wake up in Joshua’s arms like none of this day had ever happened. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I really, really hope he isn’t.”

“Get back to me as soon as you know anything, okay?”

Jihoon swallows the thick lump plugging his throat. “Okay.” What if we never find anything. He holds his head in his hands, hearing Joshua’s mom talk frantically with the coastguard on the other end of the phone before her shuffling feet join him in the open kitchen.

“They’re searching a ten-mile radius from Santa Monica and have sent word to the base in Long beach to keep an eye out. Is there any place else he could’ve gone on land?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “I’ve called all his friends, all the members of the team, even his coach. No one’s seen him since Amber left him in the bay.” He sighs and gives Mrs. Hong a reassuring smile as she stays on hold in anticipation. “He’ll be okay,” he says, but doesn’t know who he’s reassuring.

“I know…” Mrs. Hong begins. “I know this must be hard on you, Jihoon.”

She’s right. Jihoon feels like his soul is constantly being crushed each second he knows Joshua isn’t safe. He swallows again, the dire need to wail out in sobs scratching more and more at this throat. “I’m okay,” he lies, holding tight on the last few scraps of his composure. “I know he’ll be okay.”

Please, please, please. Jihoon doesn’t know if he’s praying but hopes some God, some benevolent spirit is listening to him. Please, I can’t lose him like this too.

Joshua isn’t sure how long he was lying still for, but the storm stays raging above him when he feels a pair of warm hands hold him. For a fleeting second, he thinks it could be Jihoon, until a loud clap of thunder shakes him as well as one of those hands landing hard against his face.

“Hey!” an unfamiliar voice calls. Joshua’s eyes sting as he tries to open them, the cuts on his body howling as he tries to move. “You okay?” The stranger, a male, tries to lug his body up from the sand, to no avail. “Come on,” he groans, and Joshua feels an odd relaxation from the tone of his voice. “I can help you, you have to get up!”

Joshua doesn’t recognize anything about him— not his face, not his voice, not the rough texture of his hands. But he wills himself to his hands and his knees, the strangers arm hoisting him to his feet and pulling him along the soft sands towards the cliff face. Joshua’s head is too heavy to pick up for long, but he carries his feet with the pace of the stranger, hurrying until they’re under the shelter of an arch, and the harsh stones underfoot scratch and slice his bare feet more.

“Thank you,” he utters as he’s guided into an even darker crevice underneath the arch, his voice hoarse, his lips blue and numb. The stranger doesn’t respond, only lugs Joshua up higher, sliding over the damp rocks until dank wood becomes apparent under the soles of his feet.

The sounds of the angry ocean fade further away and Joshua wonders how the stranger doesn’t even stumble in the darkness of the trek. Soon, light begins to bounce around the darkness, illuminating the glisten of the wet rocks around them in the passage. The storm rages on them above, and Joshua can just about here it echo as the stranger pulls him into an opening forming a small cave space in what he imagines is the heart of the cliff. He doesn’t want to pose too many questions, fearing the helpful albeit quiet stranger will take offense, but his eyebrows unintentionally shoot up as he notices the various lamps, and more strangely, the makeshift mattress, the wooden desk and the pin boards standing up cluttered with papers and red markings. It looked like the set of old-school explorers movie. At the far end, Joshua notices an inner pool, sitting undisturbed, unlike its outside counterpart, with the water being a crisp, almost enchanting color of blue.

“Where am I?” Joshua settles to ask as the stranger sets him down on the mattress. Oh, he has so many questions but is so tired that he can barely find the will to ask them.

“You’re on one of the Channel Islands,” the stranger says and Joshua feels a wave of relief wash over him. Thank God he hadn’t drifted some way to Hawaii. The stranger turns his back on Joshua and starts to fumble around his desk, clanging test tubes and vials like some crazy scientist. “We can get you home shortly.”

“Thank you,” Joshua says again. He wets his lips, the dryness of his throat feeling thick and painful, but feeling too awkward to ask for a drink unless he’s offered. “D-Do you live here?”

“I research here.” The stranger still had yet to look at him, but Joshua could tell he was well built, not tall but with strong shoulders and defined features, and a tuft of brown hair on his head.

“Research?” Joshua asks without thinking. The stranger hums and quickly follows:

“How long were you in the water?”

Joshua hesitates. He tries to shift, but the sting of his wounds is horrible, and he lets out a hiss between his teeth. Then is when the stranger finally glances over his shoulder at him intently. “I don’t know… a few minutes?” He was not getting the right vibes from this man. It’s like he was rescued from a tiger only to be stalked by a lion— prey either way. “Do… do you have something to drink, please?” he tries in a meek voice. “Or something to put on my cuts… they hurt a lot.” He was bleeding now, not heavily, but enough that it made him woozy. The biggest of them all was a deep, long gash that spanned the length of his calf, urticating and bleeding badly.

The stranger seemed to pay him no mind. He turns his back on him again, muttering to himself. “A few minutes should do…”

Joshua wants to ask more questions, the red flags thoroughly raised and waving. God, I just want to go home. Before he can ponder, the stranger pulls himself closer to the desk, his shoulders hiding whatever tinkering he was doing, and Joshua feels like he would take the ocean as opposed to this guy.

“Who are you?” Joshua finally speaks, swallowing past the lump wedged in his throat.

"I'm just a scientist," the stranger says. 

Joshua tries to relax. A mad scientist, oh great. That's exactly what he needed. He looks around the cave, grimacing about how someone could spend time here.  "What... are you researching?" He asks, clearing his throat and trying to bring about civil about the stranger's seeming lack of hospitality. It's not like Joshua's bleeding out here or anything.

"M... marine life."

"Oh," Joshua replies. "My boyfriend's going into that field." Can I go home now? There's a long pause, silence full of the stranger playing by his desk. Joshua could see the pinboards full of notes from his seat, but not clear enough to read them. Newspaper clippings titled SIGHTING, scribbled out pictures of fish tails and flowcharts showing the chain of the ocean. He discards it as just typical science-y stuff and find his eyes end up on the pool. The crisp, bright blue waves look inviting, like if he weren't incredibly creeped out and just coming from a near-death experience, Joshua probably would've taken a dip. "So, uh... do you know how long until the storm passes?"

The stranger doesn't answer. Joshua nods to himself, pursing his lips. "Cool," he whispers,  gradually being able to feel his limbs again. It was surprisingly warm in the cave. "Do you have, like, a boat? That can take us back to the main—" 

"You talk a lot, don't you?"

Joshua shuts his mouth, muttering, "Sorry."

The stranger looks over his shoulder again, smiling a smile that put Joshua on edge even more. "It's okay. They like that."

Joshua swallows thickly. "Who?"

The question seems to fly over the stranger’s head, and he turns around to kneel next to Joshua on the mattress. “Drink this.” He offers Jisoo a flask, it’s contents hidden by its metal exterior.

Every alarm bell sounded in Joshua’s head, every stranger danger talk in school playing on a loop.

“Go on, it’s just water.” Joshua could see the stranger’s features now: young looking— maybe not much older than himself— with flushed cheeks, eager eyes, and dark eyelashes that fanned over his cheeks. He looks like anything but a crazed scientist that could be luring Joshua into his lair, but just like a boy you’d accept a flyer from on the street. “I promise you’ll feel better.”

Dubiously, Joshua reaches out and takes the flask, his thirst trumping all need for sense and caution. He puts the cold metal to his lips and in a daring move, tips the contents into his mouth. 

It tasted just like water, but thicker, like it was mixed in with something— oh, no. Joshua glances at the desk, and then back at the stranger, swallowing thickly. “What—” he feels a sob coming from his throat. “What was that?”

The stranger doesn’t answer, instead grabs Joshua's leg, just by his wound, and tips a test tube onto it.

Joshua lets out a wail, the sting lasting for nothing more than a few seconds. "Hey!" He can't break free.

“How do you feel?”

Like the hypochondriac side of his brain had been sleeping, Joshua knew that whatever was in the tonic indeed did make him feel better. Warmth took over him suddenly, heating his bones to moderate from the inside out. It scared him, for the sting of his wounds started to slowly fizzle away too, until they were no more than an itch easily satisfied by a breath. Joshua starts to hyperventilate, scurrying up from the mattress across the hard lain wood of the cave. As he feet press against it, he can barely feel the impact, his whole body overcome by being numb.

“What was that?” He repeats, more frantically, kicking away the stranger and edging away.

“It’s okay,” he muses, but his calm voice wasn’t soothing Joshua now. “Listen, you need to hear me out—”

“No!” Joshua lets out a cry, panicked, frightened. Slowly, his limbs start to ache again, his legs gradually seizing up. What’s he done to me? What have I done to deserve this?

“You might wanna—”

“Who are you?!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask you, but it’s rare that this just happens. I can't let you go.”

“What happens?” Joshua feels hot tears rolling down his cheeks. Oh, no he's going to keep me here. Why didn't I just drown?  Please, I don’t want to die.

“You just have to remember now that you’re not going to die, but it will hurt. I’ve given you—”

Joshua doesn’t get to hear the rest of the sentence. His feet find an edge, and his whole body is again submerged in water.

Whatever calm the pool at the edge of the cave looked, it wasn’t reflected underneath the surface. Joshua is twisted around in a maniacal cyclone, the bright blue water pulling him deeper and deeper into the depths. He thinks it might be the time to recount his life once more, but all he can think about is the pain. His whole body feels like it’s approaching the sun, burning from the tips of his toes, to his waist, to his chest, to his neck; like there was a fire burning him inside out. He wants to scream, God, he can’t hold the anguish in any longer. It feels like his whole body was being distorted, bent out of shape, mangled to something inhuman.

I’m sorry. Jihoon, I’m so sorry.

He feels like his skin is flaking away, and it only takes one last searing pain, like a knife into his neck, until he opens his mouth, and an abundance of water rushes in.

All he could hear was white noise: the shrill whistle of a passing train; the dull thud of a migraine. But he didn’t feel any of it. He only felt still, calm, like he was waiting for something he wasn’t sure would come.

A sledgehammer was coming down on his chest, his throat clenching, then loosening, then clenching in a painful circuit. Is this what death feels like? Feeling empty and bodiless, no control over anything at all? Joshua always imagined he’d be dragged by death kicking and screaming, but no. He just felt still: not ready to go, but not fighting to say.

You’re not going to die.

Maybe he doesn’t have to.

“That’s enough compressions.”

“Get the defibrillator on him.”

“What’s his name?”

“Joshua.”

Joshua feels a jolt, maybe from the cool sensation suddenly spreading across his chest, maybe from the familiar croak of the voice around him. He tries desperately to open his eyes.

“Stand back, please.”

He can’t move, not even to crane his head when he hears the whisper. Please.

There’s another jolt, this one sharper and quicker, and suddenly his body feels alive. More alive than he’s ever felt. I'm not dead. He doesn't have time to consider happiness. Bit by bit, the aches and pains wash over his joints, exhausting him when he's only just woken up. Where's mom? Where's Jihoon. He lets out a groan.

“I have a pulse!”

“We’re getting a response. Joshua? Joshua, can you hear me?”

All he can manage is a groan. Determinedly, he stutters his eyes, wincing from the bright lights overhead.

“Keep feeding him air, and keep him still. We don’t know how much water’s still in—”

Joshua feels something swell inside of him, an unstoppable wave that gushes through his body, rushing towards his mouth.

“Turn.”

His body is elevated to its side by a series of hands and a surge of water and sand streams past his lips in a horrible feeling of disgorging. He lets out a pained moan, little by little, the feeling returning to his fingers and toes. His chest is strained, aching with each troubled breath, like there was war raging in his lungs. Finally, he blinks back the harsh white of the room around him, and takes in the series of figures cluttered around him.

“Are there any more injuries?”

“A fairly severe laceration on his calf, about ten inches in length.”

“Try to get him to cough up more water, we can’t put him under anesthesia until his lungs are mostly clear.”

Pathetically, Joshua tries to speak. “Ji—” All he gets is another efflux of water coming from his lungs.

“You’re okay, Joshua,” a voice close to him says. The mask around his face is removed, then replaced. “You’re in hospital. You suffered a near-fatal drowning, but you’re alright. We’ll get you stabilized and start to stitch up your leg wound.”

And so comes another upchuck of salt water.

“He’s breathing deeper, we should be able to give him a dose of anesthesia.”

“Sir, please can you step away.”

Joshua is rested on his back again, the lights above him becoming blurry and unfocused.

“Is he okay? Is he—”

Joshua wants to turn his head, but his movements are sluggish, lazy. He reaches out his hand, having it weakly fall beside him. “Jihoon,” he murmurs. He sees a struggle of someone being pushed out the door before his whole vision fades to black.