PART ONE: ENDINGS

The slice of water against his skin felt like being reborn.

He dove deep, felt the burn in his lungs, listened carefully to the white noise that had soothed him since childhood. Down there, nothing was wrong. Nothing could reach him. Nothing could ruin him.

And then he surfaced.

The crowd sounded disjointed, screaming and falling silent every time he brought his head up and back under, but he focused only on the strain of his muscles and the hard, steady beats of his heart.

These sprints had always been his strong suit, a brief burst of energy aided by the adrenaline rush of diving off the blocks, one turn at the end of the pool, and a push off the wall with as much as he could give.

And then it was over.

Everything was too loud as he brought his head above water, leaving him tempted to sink back under again. But he couldn’t, not yet. They had to see him first.

New world record, they screamed, a chorus echoing off the bleachers. He’s beaten the best of the best.

He could have told them that without even having to look at his time. He’d been the best for a while.

But now everyone knew it.

His limbs felt heavy as he slid over the lane lines, fielding splashes and slaps on the back from his challengers, and he managed some semblance of a smile as he crawled up the ladder and out of the pool. His coach was in his face now, screaming about qualifying times and realized Olympic dreams, and then there were reporters with microphones asking question after question.

Everything was just so loud.

Hours passed before he left the complex, wishing he could have simply stayed underwater until everything grew silent again. There had been a steady pounding behind his eyes for days now, a headache he couldn’t seem to shake, but tonight he was going to try.

“There’s a bar just around the corner from here. Wanna go?”

He found himself nodding at the girl curled against his side. He didn’t know her name, didn’t give two shits what it was, but soon he was guiding her towards his car and ushering her inside.

The slam of the door made him cringe, made him close his eyes for a moment as if that would block out the noise. When the pain in his head subsided slightly, he made his way around to the driver’s side of the bright red Ferrari, hands sliding over its sleek contours.

The last thing he remembered was turning over the engine, listening to it purr as the girl beside him giggled, her hand sliding up his thigh.

And then it was finally quiet.

***

New Voicemail, received at 2:41 AM

Seb? Hey, it’s Talia… Taliana. I know it’s been a while since we last talked, almost a year now if you can believe it, but that’s not—that’s not why I’m calling.

It’s Michael, Seb… he’s been in an accident. He’s alive, but it’s bad. Really bad. The doctors still aren’t sure if he’s going to pull through, and if he does… well, he may never walk again, let alone swim. I know you’re off traveling with Hannah, but I really think you should come home. Please, I—Michael needs you. He needs his best friend right now.

Call me back when you get a chance.

I’m sorry.