The air was thick with humidity and silence.
Christian's sneakers barely made a sound as he moved across the campus, hoodie pulled over his head, hands tucked deep in the kangaroo pocket. He couldn't stay in that room one more second. Not with everything swirling in his chest like a storm waiting to break.
His feet moved on instinct. Past the dorms, past the empty courts. Eventually, he found himself walking alongside the outdoor Olympic pool, its surface still and silver under the glow of the tall lamp posts around it. It looked like a mirror. Untouched. Cold. Calm.
He paused. Let himself breathe.
Then—movement. A silhouette on the far side of the pool. Sitting on the edge, legs dangling over the water.
Christian narrowed his eyes. It was too dark to tell who it was.
Then the figure slipped into the pool. No dive. No splash. Just—gone. Fell in like a dead weight.
His stomach dropped.
Without thinking, he sprinted around the edge of the pool, kicked off his shoes, threw off his hoodie, and dove in headfirst. The cold hit him like a slap to the face. The water was murky, the only light was the faint halo of the campus lamps slicing into the deep blue. He blinked, kicked down, searching—arms reaching.
A shadow moved. He grabbed it.
Someone struggled in his grip. Arms flailed. Then broke the surface with him.
"Get off me—what the hell!" a voice shouted.
Christian gasped, blinking through the water on his lashes—only to find himself nose to nose with Caleb. Chest heaving. Wet curls stuck to his forehead. Eyes wide.
"Caleb?!"
"Christian?!"
They coughed. Splashed. Tried to orient themselves.
Christian's breath came in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling like he'd just run a mile.
"What the hell are you doing?" he snapped, voice hoarse, eyes blazing. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"
Caleb froze. For a second, he just blinked at him, water dripping down his lashes.
"What?" he breathed, stunned. "No—what the hell, man?"
"Anything you're going through—" Christian's voice cracked, strained and shaking. He took a half-stroke forward, hands cutting through the water, face pale. "It's not worth dying over."
Caleb's shoulders tensed. He opened his mouth—closed it. And when he finally spoke, his voice was barely above the quiet ripple of the pool.
"Would anybody even care if I did?"
The question didn't sound dramatic. It sounded… empty. Honest. Like he truly didn't know the answer.
Christian's face crumpled. His grip on the moment faltered.
"Don't say that." The words slipped out like a reflex, his throat tight, eyes wide with something between anger and grief.
Caleb pulled back a little, treading water with slow, controlled movements. His expression hardened.
"I wasn't trying to die," he said, the sharpness returning to his voice. "I was trying to swim. Enjoy a cold bath. You're the one who interfered." Then he scoffed. "And by the way, what do you think you know about other people's struggles? Your life's been perfect."
Christian went still. His jaw clenched. Something broke in him. Then—splash.
He flung water straight into Caleb's face.
"My life is not perfect at all!" he shouted.
Caleb shouted back. "You always had everything. Your family. Your best friend. Perfect grades. Everyone liked you—and you were too cocky to even glance at the rest of us."
"You don't know shit about me!"
Caleb flinched at the bite in Christian's voice. But instead of snapping back, something shifted. His tone dropped—lower, rougher, tired.
"True fact."
He treaded water slower now, eyes flicking away like he couldn't stand to look at Christian. "You never wanted to be friends—so what would I know about you?"
There was no venom in his voice. No sarcasm. Just quiet, bruised honesty. Like a truth he'd been holding in so long, it didn't even sting anymore.
Christian froze, his mouth half open.
He hadn't expected that.
Not the calm. Not the sadness. Not the… hurt.
"Wait—" he blinked. "You're telling me… all these years… this is about me saying no? That one time?" His voice wasn't angry now. Just confused. Shocked. A little shaken."That was in middle school, Caleb. I didn't even—"
Caleb cut him off, his laugh low and bitter.
He ran a wet hand over his face, like he could scrub the emotion off.
"Oh, please." His tone tried for light, but it wobbled just enough to betray him.
"Don't act like it was some nasty breakup. You were just an arrogant kid. It's not like your refusal to be friends ruined me."
He looked at Christian now—but not with anger. With something worse. Like he was daring him to believe the lie.
"I didn't lose sleep over it. You weren't that special." His voice tightened at the edges.
"Okay," Christian said, his voice quiet but edged. "So being mean to me all these years has nothing to do with me refusing to be your friend back in middle school?"
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't even sound angry. Just… tired. Like he'd finally put a puzzle together, and he didn't like the picture it made.
Caleb didn't flinch. His jaw clenched, and he snapped before he could stop himself.
"You deserved it."
Christian's eyes narrowed. Caleb kept going, bitter and fast, like the words had been waiting years to escape.
"You were always walking around with your nose in the air. Perfect grades. Student of the Month every damn time. Volunteering for every piece of crap the school threw at us. Too good to party. Too good to hang out. Ignoring your teammates at practice like we didn't even exist."
Christian blinked. For a second, he looked stunned—then something in him snapped.
"What?!" His voice was louder now, cutting through the still night air. He swam toward Caleb, water sloshing around him as anger surged through his chest. "Just because I didn't want to hang out with you?" His voice rose with each word."That gave you and your buddies permission to treat me like shit?" His breathing was ragged. Furious. "You think I deserved that?"
Caleb stared at Christian, water dripping from his chin, his jaw clenched like he was holding something back with his teeth. He shook his head again, water flinging from his hair, his breathing uneven.
"You pretended you liked me. Said hi in the halls, smiled at practice… then out of nowhere, I was worth nothing to you. Like I had the plague"
Christian opened his mouth, chest tight, but Caleb didn't let him speak.
"You don't get to act like you're the victim," he snapped. "Not when you were the one who suddenly gave zero shits about me."
His voice cracked, but he pushed through it, bitter and breathless.
"And I thought—like a damn fool—that if someone like you gave a damn about me… someone smart, someone good at hockey, someone nice… maybe it meant I was actually worth something."
He laughed, short and hollow, then ran both hands through his wet hair, clearly spiraling now.
"Fuck, middle school memories always make me want to punch something."
Christian didn't move.
He just stared at Caleb, heart pounding, lips parted like the words were caught somewhere between his lungs and throat.
Then, finally—quietly—"I did give a damn."
Caleb froze.
"I wanted to be your friend," Christian said, his voice low, steady, soaked in something sharp and ashamed. "I liked you. You were loud and messy and said whatever the hell you wanted—but you were real. And you were the only person on the team who didn't act like I was fragile or boring. I liked that."
Caleb's jaw twitched.
"Then why—"
"Because I wasn't allowed to." Christian cut him off—gently, but firm. "My parents found out I was talking to you and told me to stay away."
He exhaled slowly, like the truth tasted bitter coming out.
"Back then, you had bad grades, you were always loud and chaotic—always acting out at school and outside of it. They said you were spoiled, unstable, a bad influence. That your family was a mess after your parents' divorce."
His voice dropped, barely above a whisper.
"They said if I didn't stop talking to you, they'd take away hockey." He looked down at the water between them. "I was used to losing my phone, my TV, my laptop... even meals. But hockey? That was all I had left."
Caleb stared at him like he'd taken a hit straight to the chest.
Christian's next words came out like a confession he'd never planned to say out loud.
"So I cut you off. I said no. I didn't explain. I just... shut it all down. Because I didn't know how to tell you the truth without making you feel worse. And I hated myself for it." He swallowed hard, then added—quiet, but honest: "You weren't the problem. But you definitely made my life easier by turning into a complete jerk."
A heavy silence settled between them. The kind that filled every inch of space, even with all that water between them.
Caleb didn't say anything at first.
He just turned his back.
For a second, Christian thought he was going to swim away. Just disappear into the dark like none of it had happened.
But then—Caleb turned his head, just enough to glance over his shoulder.
His voice was low. Strained. And too honest to be anything but real.
"You want to know the worst part?" he asked.
Christian's breath hitched, but he didn't speak.
"I was everything they said I was." Caleb let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "Spoiled. Loud. A mess. And I still wanted to be liked."
His voice cracked near the end. Just a little. "I still wanted you to like me."
He didn't wait for a response. He turned and swam to the edge in strong, practiced strokes. He climbed out in one swift movement, water cascading off his body, his jaw clenched like the words had taken more out of him than the swim ever could.
Christian hesitated for half a second before following.
By the time he pulled himself out, Caleb was already shoving his feet into his slides, grabbing his towel, eyes locked on the exit like it might save him from himself.
Then—just before he turned to leave—he paused. Didn't look back. Just said it. "I'm sorry about your parents." A beat passed. His voice softened. "I hope you're on better terms now."
He moved to walk away. But Christian's voice stopped him, quiet but weighted like a stone.
"I left my home."
Caleb froze mid-step.
"I have nothing to go back to."
He turned—slowly—his expression unreadable. His brows were drawn, lips parted like he wasn't sure what to say. Like he'd been knocked off balance by something he hadn't seen coming.
"You left..." he repeated, voice rough.
Christian nodded once, barely. His eyes didn't leave Caleb's. "I am not lying," Christian said. "This—" He gestured around them."This camp. This team. It's all I have now."
Caleb stared at him. His throat worked like he was trying to swallow something heavy. "You walked away from everything?" he asked, softer now. Disbelief creeping in.
"I had to," Christian said. "I couldn't live the way they wanted me to anymore."
The silence that followed felt like standing on the edge of something neither of them had words for.
Then—Christian looked down.
"And I'm sorry," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "For back then. For now. For all of it."
Caleb didn't speak. He just kept looking at him, like he was seeing something he'd never allowed himself to believe.
Christian lifted his gaze again, slower this time. There was a quiet kind of hope in his voice—shy, careful, new.
"I know we're not good at this," he said. "But we could try. We could be friends." He gave a faint, breathless laugh."I can finally make my own decisions now."
Caleb's eyes darkened. He stepped back—not far, just enough to draw a line. His voice was soft, but it didn't waver.
"I can't be your friend anymore."
Christian blinked, startled. Then—Caleb's lips twitched, not quite a smile, but something fierce behind it.
"Now I want more than that."
A beat.
"Embrace yourself, Evans."
And with that, he turned and walked into the night—leaving Christian standing in the soft pool light, drenched in chlorine, moonlight, and the sudden weight of possibility.