Thanks to HaleyKim84 and UpAndComing for the beta!

Written as part of a "50 Words for 100 Days Challenge" that I completed with HaleyKim84, and also to fill the prompt, "Gunshot wound" for the Bad Things Happen Bingo on Tumblr.

I hope you enjoy it!

He let the towel drape over his head as he dried off. The corridor leading back out to the pool was mostly empty, with a few stragglers on phones or waiting for the bathroom. The crowd was out there, on the deck, in the stands- feasting on the real action.

He quickened his pace, passing by a young man with a huge, black bag strapped over his shoulder. He accidentally caught the man's gaze for an instant before he strode by- his eyes were cold, hard, and there was something lying underneath that made a chill skitter up Makoto's spine.

"100 meter relay begins in five minutes," crackled the loudspeaker. His mind snapped back into action.

Relay. Backstroke. 100 meters.

Five minutes.

As soon as he hit the base of the stands, it was like trying to walk through a brick wall. People were packed into the tiny opening like the fish in a can of Haru's mackerel. Makoto's official-looking jacket helped him squeeze through the cracks of space in between bodies, as well as several polite apologies and requests to move further. People mostly noted the jacket, though. A few minutes more, and he was back into open air as he hurried toward the pool deck. Iwatobi's swim club was in the fourth lane- the gang was preparing for launch.

Makoto slipped in beside them. "Sorry I'm late, guys."

Nagisa tosses him one of his huge, trademark smiles. "No biggie, Mako! You ready?" He rocked from toe to heel and hopped from one leg to the next.

Makoto tugged on his swim cap. "I think so. You?"

"Heck yeah! I'm totally pumped! What about you, Rei?"

Rei was wiping his prescription goggles with the towel Makoto had discarded. He hummed. "I am nervous, I must admit. But excited as well- this will be our first tournament all season, after all."

Nagisa nodded emphatically, then turned to Haru. Before he could ask, Haru shrugged in reply. Nagisa's attention soon flitted elsewhere, and Makoto bided his time stretching.

Then the heart-stopping beep, and he knew.

It was time.

He dropped into the fourth lane and positioned himself beneath the diving platform.

Within minutes, he was slapping the wall and watching Nagisa plunge over him and into the water. He climbed out to wait and observe and cheer his team on while Rei readied himself to dive. Haru was gazing at the water with the longing of a fish in a desert. Typical Haru, Makoto thought with a slight smile.

A splash, and then Rei was breaching with a textbook-perfect butterfly stroke. Nagisa was cheering wildly. Haru had hopped up onto the diving platform the very second Rei's feet had pushed off. He was ready for his lap, all right- Makoto could almost see him vibrating with anticipation.

The cold feeling swept over Makoto again as he suddenly recalled the man with the large tote. Perhaps he was a swim coach, and he'd brought supplies or snacks for his team? But he knew the optimism, however statistically possible, was fake.

Suddenly uncomfortable being in plain view of the crowd, Makoto stepped closer to Nagisa and Haru at the platform. Rei was approaching fast. He could feel Haru tensing behind him, preparing for the dive. All normal, except that nagging feeling. . . . Maybe the anxiety would ease a bit if he took off his goggles, so he could see the crowd-

BANG.

Time froze.

Makoto, lifting the plastic straps from his head.

Nagisa, mid-shout, cheering the team on.

Rei, hauling himself out of the water.

Haru, mid-air, his perfect form arcing towards the crystalline surface.

No- Haru, mid-air, but his form twisted, his arc crumpling, his momentum thrown sideways. . . .

Haru, no longer diving, but falling.

Crashing.

The water from the splash hit Mako in the face, and time sped up again.

"Get down!" He yelled, pushing Nagisa and Rei to the deck. More shots fired overhead. In between the rattling gunshots, terrified screams and confused shouts filled the air. He risked a glance over his shoulder, trying to find the source of the gunfire.

The corridor- the one leading to the bathrooms and vending machines. Too many people, but he thought he caught a glimpse of the man from earlier.

Somebody moved, clearing the line of sight, but the man was gone. The gunfire had been replaced by the wailing of the fire alarms.

Makoto glanced at the choppy water, where Haru had fallen.

He hadn't come up yet.

Makoto's heart shoved into his throat.

Wait, Makoto, you're probably just overreacting-

He hasn't come up yet!

"Haru!" Makoto shouted, jumping up and searching the water desperately. "Haru? Come on!"

An instant of pause.

Nothing.

Panic swelled in his chest, eating away at his stomach like a starving animal. "Haru?!"

"Mako?" came Nagisa's small voice. "What's-"

Makoto saw it. The unsettled surface, tinged with scarlet.

No.

Makoto was running, leaping off the deck before Nagisa could even finish.

The water knipped at him, hungry, cold, angry. He tore through the surface in a front crawl- probably the fastest he'd ever swam freestyle- right to the spot where the water had claimed his best friend.

He dove.

The chlorine stung his eyes as he scanned the depths. Blurry strips of black lane markings against a blue-white backdrop... and an unmoving form slowly sinking as the water swallowed him whole.

Haruka.

Makoto clawed through the water, digging deeper, kicking as hard and as fast as he could. Finally he reached Haru, linking an arm around him and pushing off the bottom of the pool. They streaked upward.

Haru was limp.

Makoto's heart pounded at the need for oxygen. His terror wasn't helping.

He strained against the resistance, using every fiber of his being to pull Haru to the surface. The extra weight was dragging, slowing him down- he wasn't used to it. Haru was smaller than him, but dense with lean muscle. He was a lot heavier than expected.

A few terrifying instants flew by, and Makoto's head broke the surface. He sucked in a huge breath- at the same moment, Haru's head lolled forward, back into the water. Makoto kicked harder, treading with one hand to the best of his ability, and pushed Haru up, he himself slipping under the water from the force of it. Makoto arched backward this time, and resurfaced at an angle- it worked; Haru's head fell back onto Mako's shoulder, which opened his airway and kept his head out of the water.

Makoto strained to keep them afloat. Haruka sometimes said that the water was like a living thing— like it seemed now. The depths of the pool might be clear, but the surface was choppy with Makoto's efforts and dulled with a distilled red tint. It licked at his face, tugged at his legs, coaxing them down into its stomach. It was the enemy, a living, hungry thing, trying to pull them under, attempting to swallow them whole. Makoto fought against it, slowly inching his way to the safety of the deck. The progress felt excruciatingly slow- every second lost was another second Haru might not survive.

Only now did he register that his arm was burning, like the chlorine biting at a savage cut he didn't know he had—perhaps he'd gotten it last night, playing with Ren and Ran in the living room. His lungs strained from the effort of continually grabbing spurts of breath when his head bobbed up above the surface. He heard the roar of confusion in the stands—thought he heard Nagisa and Rei yelling for them, or for the lifeguards, maybe… Maybe he should've waited and let them rescue Haru—maybe he should've stayed with Nagisa and Rei, protected them—or maybe he should've looked for the shooter, since he was probably the only person to know what the man looked like…. What was he thinking, getting involved? He had no idea how to keep someone from drowning. The last time he'd tried, he'd almost drowned himself… if it wasn't for Haru...

A tiny sound gurgled from Haruka's lips—a half-strangled puff, a broken cough, a whisper of life—and relief flooded Makoto, the smallest ounce of hope surging through his limbs, giving him strength to keep pushing—

Something like concrete whacked into the back of his head. He startled, trying to turn and see, but with the load he carried, maneuvering was difficult. Then, hands were reaching down from out of his sight, grabbing Haru with a strength and gentleness he didn't expect.

"We've got him, Mako!" Nagisa's voice.

"The lifeguard's here—you can release him now. Don't worry." That was Rei.

The words echoed inside his head with a reassurance that broke through his death grip on Haruka. He let go.

His teammates held Haru by the arms and shoulders, tight enough that his head didn't fall back. The extra weight now gone, Makoto could tread water easily and maneuvered to get out of the way. A lifeguard stood beside Rei and Nagisa; she slipped a wooden board with straps rolled up on each side into the water with a precision born of practice. The lifeguard then held one of Haru's wrists and angled his limp body so that it lined up with the backboard, and she let it float up beneath him. Makoto stayed alert, watching carefully in case the lifeguard needed help, or in case Haru slipped off the backboard.

But the young woman was precise in her movements, strong despite her small frame, and she performed the extrication perfectly. Nagisa watched with worry as she assessed Haru's condition. Rei was visibly torn but probably figured Nagisa had Haru covered; Rei offered Makoto assistance as he climbed out of the pool.

Makoto's arms trembled as he lifted himself out of the water. The bite of chlorine mixed with a hint of iron still remained in his mouth. His left arm gave out.

"Whoa!" Rei rushed to grab him, keeping him from falling back into the water. "Careful there, Makoto. You're tired. Take it easy." Rei glanced over his shoulder. Makoto looked up to follow his gaze, eyes still burning from the chlorine, as the lifeguard ordered Nagisa to call emergency services.

Haru's that bad off?

The thought terrified him.

The whole rescue had probably lasted under a minute, but it had felt like hours. He'd hoped maybe Haru had just bumped his head, or had hit the water the wrong way, or maybe just startled during the gunshot and entered wrong. But deep in Makoto's gut, he knew he was grasping at the wind.

There had been blood in that pool—enough, even after the water's distillation, that it was visible to the eye.

Makoto climbed free of the water and passed Rei, immediately going to stand at Haru's side. The lifeguard had started chest compressions.

Cardiopulmonary response.

CPR.

He didn't even want to think about what that meant for Haru.

The lifeguard was sweating from exertion. Her pocket mask had been placed on Haru's head, and every so often she would give him two ventilations. His chest never rose.

Haru had drowned.

Makoto fell to his knees on the other side of Haru's body, across from the lifeguard. "Can I help? I know first aid!"

The lifeguard didn't spare him a glance—just continued counting her compressions aloud. She nodded, though, so Makoto waited for orders. When she moved for ventilations, she gave one breath before saying quickly, "First aid kit is on the wall—bring the kit and an AED." She gave a second breath, then started compressions. "One one-thousand, two one-thousand—Dress his leg!—three one-thousand, four…." As she continued counting, Rei hurried to grab the items she'd requested, so Makoto stayed by her side, relaying that her orders were being fulfilled.

Makoto scanned Haru for the source of the blood he'd seen and found it instantly. Already there was a small puddle of it beneath his left leg. Fear spiked inside Mako. Dress his leg, she'd said. Makoto knew how to stop the bleeding, at least. So he used both hands to press against the leg wound—hard. The blood was warm as it oozed out around his fingers. Makoto felt sick.

So he watched the lifeguard doing CPR instead, waiting for Haru to come back, to show some sign of life.

He remembered practicing those very motions— thirty compressions, two ventilations, repeat— on a faceless rubber mannequin during CPR training. It was surreal, watching those same movements being performed on the limp body of his best friend… With every compression, the heels of the lifeguard's hands sank literal inches into Haruka's chest, making a crackling sound that made Makoto think of a breaking rib cage. The instructor had warned him about the sound—it's just cartilage, he'd said—but in the end, it didn't matter. The sound triggered his panic. Morbid images were thrust into his mind unbidden, of bone shards, jostling and shattering; of hot blood, spewing and gurgling; of Haru's face, gray and dea—

"I found the AED," Rei said, sliding in beside Makoto and fortunately cutting off the dark train of thought. Rei shoved a plastic box about the size of a loaf of bread at him. "And here's the first aid kit!"

When the lifeguard didn't stop counting to answer, Makoto said, "Open the lid of the AED. It'll start an automated recording of the instructions to use it." As Rei complied, Makoto continued, "Those two pads will go on his chest; one on the left shoulder and the other on the base of the right rib cage."

"Uh— his left or my left?"

"Your left, his right. The point is to make an imaginary line between the two pads cross over his heart."

As the AED started spilling out instructions with a male robotic voice, Rei's movements were rigid and nervous. He worked faster than the AED could supply instructions, creating a distracting flurry of sporadic movement around the rhythmic procedure of the lifeguard.

Makoto tried to focus on his own duty—stemming the blood, using gauze to wrap the wound, how is it bleeding this much?—and he tried to keep from worrying about how perfect or not-as-perfect Rei and the lifeguard were performing theirs. It was hard. He wanted to be sure they were doing it right so that Haru had every chance possible of coming back. Every compression, every breath that the lifeguard gave—sweat was pouring from her brow and her counting had fallen to a desperate rush of air in replacement of each number—and still, no sign of life.

"How is he?" Nagisa's prepubescent voice was even higher than normal. He was winded too. "I found a phone and called. Someone else had already done it but that's okay because that means extra help for Haru, right? And extra help for Haru means more chance that he'll be okay? Right?"

Rei nodded in support, but didn't answer the question. No one else did either.

Time seemed to crawl, the lifeguard's repetitions the only indication of it even passing at all. Makoto felt like he was on the brink of collapse—just as much psychologically as physically. He started to wonder if Haru actually had the easiest part of this whole affair, being unconscious and all…

How could he even think that? At a time like this? A wave of shame rushed in to join the guilt and fear already churning like a whirlpool in his gut.

He looked at his hands. His stomach twisted at the sight.

The trickle of blood dripping into the crimson puddle beneath Haru's leg hadn't stopped. Makoto's body was beginning to ache from the rigidity he'd been holding to keep pressure on the wound. He was using every ounce of strength as he had—and then some—but no matter what he did, it seemed like the harder he pushed, the more blood stained the pool deck. Desperation fueled his efforts to add bandages until there were none left, to hold his vigil and keep pressing on Haru's wound until blood stopped flowing.

"Stand clear," the automated voice commanded. Rei relayed the command in a louder tone, using his arms to push everyone back. Makoto barely heard him and understood the command even less. His focus was too narrow, his determination too great. It took Rei and Nagisa, both physically pulling on him, to finally get half of his attention.

"Get off me, guys!" Mako snapped, attempting to twist out of their grip. "Can't you see?! Haru's dying! I've—I've gotta—"

Rei got up in his face. "Snap out of it! You have to let go for just one second if you want him to live. Got that? You want him to live, don't you?!"

Makoto let go and fell back on his seat, panting. Words didn't want to come, so he simply stared at his hands, limp and loose in his lap.

"Analyzing heart rhythm." The AED repeated its instructions, Rei following through and making sure no one was touching Haru—it'd mess up the analysis. The lifeguard was panting for air; she looked exhausted. Where were the other lifeguards? Weren't there always at least two on duty at big tournaments like this?

"Shock advised," came the AED's robotic, unfeeling voice. "Stand clear."

"Everyone, stand back!" Rei warned again.

Dread clung to Makoto's heart like a deadweight. He couldn't watch. He'd seen humans get shocked too many times on TV. He'd always known he'd pass out if he saw it happen in real life—let alone watching it happen to his best friend.

No way.

Makoto concentrated on his hands. He tried to ignore the blood dripping from his palms; he tried to clench them into fists to keep them from shaking. The fingers of his left hand couldn't ball up all the way. It hurt to move. But then, his body ached and his knees hurt from kneeling on the hard pool deck and his back was sore from leaning over so long—it even hurt to think. A little stinging under one arm was fool's play compared to the condition of the boy lying unconscious in front of him.

He heard Nagisa's small gasp, and then, "Shock delivered. Begin chest compressions." The lifeguard resumed her post, and Makoto jumped forward to continue his own duty. Except… it looked like the wound had stopped bleeding.

What?

He didn't understand, but somehow, it had.

"I know CPR," he said, scooting over to kneel opposite of the lifeguard. "I can help."

She didn't reply— for a moment, he thought she wouldn't let him help, and fear pulsed through him at the thought of being forced to sit idly by while Haru's life was on the balance. If he didn't do something, he knew he'd lose it. But as soon as she moved for ventilations, she nodded and panted, "OK," before giving two rescue breaths. As soon as Haru's chest fell again, Makoto assumed position and began compressions.

He lost himself in the rhythm. Thirty compressions, pause for the lifeguard to give two breaths, repeat. Over and over again. Occasionally the AED would order them to stop so it could deliver a shock, but Makoto barely noticed the interruption. The deck seemed to be covered in a fog; his mind was filled with a haze he was too weary to lift.

Somewhere along the line, Rei's voice cut through the haze like the smallest, sharpest beam of light. "It's all right, it's okay! The paramedics have arrived, Makoto. They can take it from here. Stop it!"

Hands, gripping his shoulders, pulling him. Commanding, but calm. Makoto, realizing what was happening, let himself fall back on his seat and catch his breath. Bodies pushed their way in front of him, crowding his view, shutting him off from the only hope that had kept him going. His body felt heavy, his limbs were weak, his strength utterly sapped.

"Mako?" Nagisa, tilting his blonde head into Makoto's view. His face was blurry. "Don't worry," he attempted in a consoling voice, "he'll be all right. I know he will."

But what if….

What if he's not?

Rei plopped down beside Makoto as the medics brought over a stretcher. Makoto stared at its wheels, watching half-heartedly as the number of plastic circles doubled and tripled. Voices clamored in his ears, the medical lingo a foreign language to his ears. He sat there, watching, waiting—useless.

A man crouched in front of him so that they were eye-level. "You okay, kid?"

He felt numb. His mind barely registered the question. He stared past the man, almost through him. Rei answered instead.

"I believe he's just shaken. Thank you for helping us. Will Haruka be all right?"

The paramedic thankfully took his concerned gaze off Makoto for a moment to answer Rei. "I've worked with this team for six years. I'd trust them with my life in a heartbeat." There was a fiery determination in his eyes. "And that's coming from a pretty paranoid man. If I can trust 'em, you'd better believe you can trust 'em too."

Rei nodded once—a desperate but firm acceptance of hope. Nagisa's eyes were moist, and not from swimming the relay.

Makoto didn't feel comforted by this kind man's words, but he didn't feel any more frightened, either. The only thing his fuzzy mind could register was an undercurrent of tension in his stomach and a dull ache in his arm—which he probably strained while saving Haru….

"Son, are you sure you're all right?" The man was in his face again. His hair was dark but graying at the ears, the corners of his warm eyes pinched from seeing too many horrors in his line of work. Something was painfully familiar about him.

Flashes of the old fisherman, smiling down at him, laughing with him, giving him the two goldfish—memories came flooding through his mind. He froze.

The old man had looked at him just like the paramedic was right now, back when he was a kid, after he'd tripped and skinned his knee near the docks one time.

And then the old fisherman had… passed on... a few weeks later, when the tsunami hit.

The paramedic was looking at him, his features bearing a strange resemblance to that fisherman, with even the same expression…. Pity, worry, pained.

What did that mean for Haru?

When Makoto didn't respond, and made no move to accept his help, the man released a soft breath of reluctance and admitted, "I know you just patched up your friend, but that blood looks awfully fresh to be completely his."

Nagisa was confused, but Rei sat bolt upright. "You can't mean…" Rei whispered, suddenly horrified, and turned to stare at Makoto with a piercing, worried gaze.

A hot rush of some foreign emotion—anger, maybe—spilled over Makoto like the spout of a volcano. Before he could stop it, or even recognize what it was, it came gushing out in a mad flurry of heat. "Why on earth are you staring at me like that? Stop worrying about me! For goodness' sake, Haruka's dying! Don't you even care?!"

Nagisa's hand reached out to touch his arm in a gentle, placating way, but it just sparked Makoto's irritation even more and he shook it off. "Stop it! Why are you sitting around here wasting time about some little cut or whatever while Haru's… when he's…!"

His words tangled up as his breath hitched, emotion threatening to spill over into traitorous tears. He balled his hands into fists, willing them to just stop shaking, but he couldn't help it, and they wouldn't stop, and why was he sitting here helpless when Haru was over there barely clinging to life and—and—

The realization hit him suddenly.

He couldn't breathe.

Like he was the one drowning.

Oh, no.

How could he be—No, he was actually drowning. He couldn't—he couldn't breathe. There was a thick fluid rushing down his throat, plunging his lungs into spasms of panic, and he was coughing but nothing came out and nothing came in and he couldn't breathe…. The sun was cast into darkness like a horrible storm had risen; Nagisa and Rei and the medic were gesturing and talking at him wildly, but he couldn't hear more than a muffled gurgle of noise, and then the sky went black and swallowed him whole….

0o0o0

Rei watched as Makoto began to hyperventilate. Oh great, he thought, first Haru's hurt, and now this?

"Come on, son, take it easy," the paramedic coaxed with a hand on Makoto's shoulder. Makoto didn't seem to hear or notice him. Clearly he was having some sort of panic attack.

The hypothesis did not, however, make the weight of the fact any easier to bear. Rei was already at the end of his stamina; that he had held it together this long was a surprise in itself. After all, wasn't he normally the first to break under pressure? But poor Mako—he had a soft heart. And Haru was his best friend…. No wonder this was hard on him.

But a shooting—at regionals? Random and completely uncalled for, in his opinion. A school shooting was at least more understandable. Blatantly put, school stunk. But a swimming tournament? On the site of such a pristine outdoor pool, the beholder of such beauty as the human race elegantly dipping through the water? That someone would want to damage that was a tragedy—even more so that some fool would wish to harm the best swimmer Rei had ever seen. Utter foolishness. And that was lightly putting it.

The paramedic was trying to calm Makoto, but it didn't appear to be working. He was gasping desperately for air, grabbing at his throat with his right hand while his left hung limp at his side.

And that's when Rei noticed it: fresh blood, dripping down Makoto's left arm.

The paramedic seemed to notice it at the same moment Rei did.

"Looks like he was hit, too," the paramedic said, standing beside Makoto with a comforting hand. "Can I help you?" This formality he turned to Makoto, who didn't respond. Rei wasn't sure he could. He looked like he was choking on thin air.

"Please, just help him!" Rei intervened anxiously. "I don't think he can breathe!"

The paramedic needed no further coaxing.

Makoto collapsed just as the paramedic reached for him.

Nagisa shrieked in alarm. "What's wrong?!" He hung off Rei's arm, clinging to it like a lifeline as the paramedic went to work in a quick, methodical manner.

Rei tried to shake Nagisa off, to no avail. "Panicking is not going to help him or anyone else, Nagisa! Calm down." He tried to ignore how tight his own voice was.

The paramedic called out for more assistance. As more responders rushed to help with Makoto, Rei's line of sight was cut off.

The pool deck was a blur of motion and lights and people. The only thing Rei had to ground him to the scene was Nagisa's trembling, double-handed grip on his arm. And even then, the rest of the day passed in a haze of memory.

Before Rei was aware of what had happened, he was standing on the doorstep of Nagisa's house and mumbling something in response to a question Nagisa's mother had asked. She nodded, agreeing to whatever he'd said, and he spotted Nagisa dragging himself up the stairwell before she shut the door with a click.

Then, he stood there, staring at the front of the door, mind blank and limbs hanging limp. Go home, the little subconscious, automatic-pilot voice said as it took the reins and turned him around while his consciousness napped somewhere in the back of his head.

What felt like a second later, he found himself lying in bed—his bed, he realized belatedly—and staring up at the ceiling. His eyes burned. He supposed he'd been staring a while, then.

Wow, he thought, only just now realizing it, I must be really out of it.

He let out a laugh, a hoarse, broken thing. No kidding, Captain Obvious.

He vaguely remembered riding in Coach's van to the hospital. Something about too busy and too many visitors to admit them to check on Haru or Makoto. The waiting room had been standing-room only.

The ceiling fan slowly sliced through the air in lazy circles above him. Did they catch the shooter?

Well, it didn't really matter anyway. His friends had probably almost died—scratch that, Haru had died—and were, right this instant, spending the night in the hospital.

And here Rei was, lying stupidly in his bed like a useless potato in a sack, waiting for sleep to come like a thief and rob him of his worries.

He was cheating, that's what he was doing.

Unacceptable.

But what else could he do? He wasn't a doctor, a nurse, or even family. Like Mr. Tachinana had convinced him, there was nothing beneficial about losing sleep sitting in a stuffy room with strangers. It was impractical and nonsensical in every way.

And yet… a part of himself felt like it was missing. The tiny, irrational section of his brain—or maybe it was his heart—demanded that he lie awake even here, in his bedroom, in a constant vigil for the waking of his two friends.

Sleep didn't come to him that night.

0o0o0

There was a pounding on the door of Makoto's house so loud that he could hear it from his bedroom upstairs. Someone must have answered it—because about half a second after it had stopped, footsteps came thundering up the staircase and down the hallway before he could even think about who it was. His bedroom door flung open, and with a wild flourish and a boatload of frantic gibberish that he could only half-understand from years of listening to both The Twins at once, Makoto was tackled with a bear hug so tight one would think Nagisa was two times larger.

"Mako!" he mumbled, sounding like he was on the verge of tears as he dug his face into Makoto's hoodie. He said something else, but it was too muffled to make out.

Makoto hugged him back, trying not to notice the strain the movement put on his left bicep. "Hey, Nagisa," he said with a soft smile.

Warm tears began to soak through the front of his shirt as Nagisa started to sob.

"Dude, it's okay!" Makoto said, startled. "I'm all right, there's no need for that-come on, buddy…."

Nagisa let go of him and gulped down a huge breath of air. "I'm sorry, it's just- you don't know what it was like, going through that…. With both you and Haru in the hospital…." He met Makoto's gaze through tear filled eyes, and Makoto could tell another burst of sobs was on its way. "Wait, wait, it's okay! I'm right here, okay? And Haru- Haru's…" It felt like someone had punched him in the gut. "Haru's all right, too, okay?" He said softly, trying to restrain his own worry. "It's over now. Everybody's all right."

Nagisa sniffed once, twice, before he plopped weakly onto the ground by Makoto's feet. There he sniffled and strangled down choked sobs. Makoto's heart ached with him, he found himself slipping off the chair to sit beside him on the wooden floor. There, they allowed themselves the weakness and friendship required to cry together—no words, just broken breaths and quiet tears.

0o0o0

Haru woke up to an irritating, loud beeping. It sounded like an alarm clock, only more annoying. He would've thought it was his alarm clock trying to claw him out of sleep, but he didn't have an alarm clock. He'd never even used one. His mom had—this one sounded like hers, except instead of it going off in the room next door, it was right by his ear.

He wanted to turn over and bury his head underneath his pillow to block out the noise, but his limbs felt like they were made of lead. And his leg—it was so sore—like how he imagined it felt to tear a muscle. He'd never pulled anything, or strained anything, but that's the best guess he had.

But how had he strained his leg? Pulled, torn, ripped, whatever. He hadn't done it swimming. That was certain. The water could get angry sometimes, but it had never injured him. He had gotten a cold from swimming once, but that was his fault, and it wasn't an injury. This was different. It must have come from an outside source.

Then it struck him. The gunshot was the last thing he remembered.

He gasped at the memory and opened his eyes wide, glancing around what he'd assumed to be his bedroom. It wasn't. Instead of hardwood floors and tan walls decorated with pictures of the ocean, it was white and pale like a ghost.

He was in a hospital.

There had been a shooting at the swim tournament.

He'd been shot.

...Huh. Weird.

The window's blinds were drawn, and moonlight shone down on the sheets of the hospital bed, drowning them in a milky hue. The beeping wasn't an alarm but a machine, with a few strings and cables hooked into his arm and hand. There was a little clip on his index finger, and someone had dressed him in a hospital gown. The room held a vicious chill that the sheets couldn't protect against. His limbs felt stiff and he felt sticky all over. He felt… weak. Groggy.

What was wrong with him? Had they drugged him or something?

One attempt at sitting up made it all too clear he was not going anywhere anytime soon. The room had swirled, his vision swimming—and not in a nice way. He settled back into the pillow, resigned to stare at the ceiling. Maybe a nurse would come in soon. Weren't they supposed to know when a patient was awake? They always did in the movies. Like they were omniscient or something.

He waited.

Nothing.

The clock ticked incessantly, staring down at him mockingly from the wall.

It took about half a minute for Haru to learn that this was torture.

When the door finally opened about an hour later, he was ready to rip someone's throat out.

"What on earth took so long?" Haru was so livid, he didn't trust himself to even look at the newcomers. "Get me out of here. Now."

"They wouldn't let us in!" A squeaky voice protested, just a hair too high. A squeaky voice that Haru instantly recognized. "I tried to sneak past them, but then my mom caught me and—!"

"Nagisa?" Haru found himself grinning, relief flooding him and drowning the anger. A tall figure entered behind him, smiling tight with worried eyes behind glasses. Haru smiled wider. "And Rei?"

"How are you feeling?" Rei asked, as yet another person entered behind him. Haru opened his mouth to greet Mako—

"'Sup," came the voice, breaking off Haru's thought. Rin stepped into view, cool and nonchalant on the surface, but Haru could see the tumultuous and tired waters beneath. He looked awful.

"What are you—?"

"I'm not so heartless that I wouldn't come to see if my number one opponent was out of the game, y'know." A sliver of a grin snuck onto his face, and he said under his breath, "Good to see you're still in one piece."

"Yeah. Thanks," was Haruka's dry response, outwardly exasperated and inwardly glad. Rin just rolled his eyes.

It had been... what? Half a year since he had seen him last? Too long.

Although being surrounded by friends made this cold hospital room feel warmer, there was still something distinctly lacking.

"Where's Makoto?"

Rin and Rei shared a glance that Haru couldn't quite read, but Nagisa bit his lip. That, Haru could read, and dread knotted deep in his stomach. Oh no.

After a long, tense pause, Rei took a breath as if to speak, but Rin cut him off quickly. "He's fine. Totally chill, dude. Same old Makoto."

Haru wanted to be relieved, but something about Rin's over-assurance gave off a weird vibe that made him uneasy, like Rin was hiding something.

"Rin. What's wrong? Is he hurt?"

"No, really, Haru," Nagisa chimed in, a little too cheery. "He's fine! Really!"

"Well, then, where is he?"

"He's…." Nagisa trailed off and bit his lip again, looking at Rin. They were all looking at Rin.

"He's downstairs right now, just hanging out in the lobby," Rin supplemented, throwing in an extra level of nonchalance. "It's no big, dude, chill out."

Haru glared. "You're lying. Tell me what's wrong."

Another pause. Haru could see the lie bubbling to Rei's lips and cut him off before he could speak. "Fine. I'll go find him myself." And with that, he grit his teeth and mustered the strength to swing his legs over the side of the bed and pull himself to a sitting position.

The three boys jumped to intercede at once, scrambling to hold him down while fumbling with worried excuses.

"You can't get up, Haru! You'll hurt yourself!" Nagisa whined plaintively.

Bolts of pain laced through his leg and exploded in his chest. He fell back against the pillow, wilting in pained submission. "Yeah," he huffed, biting the inside of his lip. "Fine."

After a pause to see if he would stay true to his word, the others settled and gave him room to breathe.

Rei broke the silence. "You have a broken rib, and your leg is bruised to the bone. I'm honestly surprised you can move."

"Leave it to Haru to ignore common sense for the sake of doing something stupid," Rin muttered with a sigh.

Haru glared. "Is anyone actually going to tell me what happened? Or do I have to get up and—"

"No!" The three shouted in unison. Rei put his hands out placatingly and said, "We were at regionals—"

"Got that. What happened after the gunshot?"

As Rei and Nagisa caught him up on the details of the event, Rin stood behind them, arms crossed, a protective vibe radiating from him in angry waves. At some point, he slipped out of the room without a word.

When the two had finished, Haru didn't say anything; he only stared at the ceiling in silence. He'd been injured and unconscious for fourteen hours, and he had nearly drowned. Makoto had been hit by the bullet as well, apparently—the nurses had told Mr. and Mrs. Tachibana, and they in turn had passed the information to Nagisa, who had gotten a ride from them, and of course once Nagisa knew something, everyone knew it. Makoto had been injured without realizing it, somehow—maybe some form of shock?—but he still had jumped in to save Haru. It was insane.

A few minutes later, Rin returned and Makoto slid quietly into the room behind him. Haru wanted to yell at him for being so crazy, for acting so stupidly, for…. What, exactly? But the urge to shout died before it had a chance to leave his throat. Makoto just sat in that chair, as still and white as a corpse, with one arm in a sling. Haruka didn't have the heart to be angry. He didn't really have a proper reason to be, either—how do you get angry with someone for saving your life? Not just anyone, either—your best friend?

Nagisa, Rin, and Rei stood there fidgeting, looking from Haru to Makoto, the latter of which was not making eye contact. Nagisa squirmed for a whole three seconds before declaring that he was going to get a cookie from the check-in desk downstairs. Rei quickly chimed in with a "I'll grab one for both of you," and high-tailed it out of there. When Haru finally looked at him, Rin gave an over-dramatic eye-roll and left with a bored, "whatever," before letting the door swing shut behind him.

A few tense seconds dragged by before Makoto thankfully broke the silence.

"Hey, Haruka," Makoto said with a soft, tired grin, offering him a hand. The bicep of his other arm was wrapped up in tight bandages, and the forearm rested neatly in a professional sling. Haru was so relieved to see him that he even let the name issue slip.

"They…" Haru started, but wasn't quite sure how to phrase it. "The guys told me you… that you jumped in, after...," he said, feeling incredibly awkward all of a sudden. He cleared his throat and was about to try again, but Makoto cut in.

"I did." He smiled with that quiet, humble, reassuring smile. "And I'd do it again. Don't guilt yourself into thinking this was somehow your fault."

Haru looked down at his hands, tightening his jaw. "What'd we ever do to that guy?"

"Who?"

Blessed, irritating, innocent Makoto— "The guy who shot me," Haru said, not able to take his anger out on Makoto. "Us," he amended quickly, glancing at his friend's sling.

Makoto shrugged. "The police caught him, took him in for questioning, but they haven't released a statement about it yet. The media's going nuts."

"You're okay with it?" Haru snapped. "Aren't you angry? He could've killed us! He could've hurt Rei or Nagisa or some kid in the stands—!"

"I'm not. But the guy was caught. The police are handling it. There's nothing we can do."

Haru stared at him. There was something a little… broken... in his eyes. "Are you all right?"

Makoto looked incredulous. "I'm the one who should be asking you that."

"You're dodging the question."

"And you're ignoring the obvious."

"Obvious what?"

"Situation."

"What?" Haru shook his head, baffled. His brain was too foggy to put up with this. "Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop avoiding my question!"

Makoto blinked innocently. "What question?"

Haru looked to the heavens in exasperation. "Why are you acting like this?"

Makoto opened his mouth.

"And if you say, 'like what?' I will slap you," Haru rushed to add with a threatening glare.

Makoto closed his mouth, thinking for a moment. Finally he sobered and admitted with an embarrassed chuckle, "Dude… It was terrifying."

Haru cocked a brow. "That's... probably normal."

"No, not like that. I…" He took a breath and looked at the wall, hands fidgeting in his lap. "I haven't been able to sleep."

"I'm… I'm sorry you haven't been sleeping well," Haru said softly, carefully in lieu of apologizing for causing it.

"No, I mean… I haven't slept. At all." At Haru's obvious alarm, he quickly added, "It's not your fault. It's not. But… every time I close my eyes, it's like I'm back in the water, like it's happening all over again. You know me, Haruka, I… I freak out. And it won't stop happening. The hardest part was the constant reminder that you still weren't OK. But now…" He trailed off, daring to meet Haru's gaze. He shrugged, a small, awkward smile, covering up days of worry and multiple nights without sleep. "I'll probably be fine now."

Haru tried to get words out, to fill the awkward emptiness in the air that was leftover from Makoto's moment of vulnerability, but no matter how hard he tried, no words would come. He had never been particularly fluent, but he had always kind of supposed that comforting words or something would come out in an open, heartfelt moment like this. He'd been wrong. If talking had ever been difficult or uncomfortable before, it was even more so now.

But, then again, speaking never had been his thing. That was Nagisa's forte, and Makoto was normally the one comforting others. No, Haru's thing was more simple. It was practical. It was… comforting by silence.

And so Haru said nothing, did nothing, except simply sitting there and sharing the silence with his best friend. Together they sort of mourned the event at the tournament with a sincerity and sameness that only came from being in it together, experiencing it together. The silence faded from tight to relaxed, from awkward to kinship. It was a nice, somber sort of thing, and Makoto's shoulders fell as the tension drained out of them.

The moment stretched into a timeless sort of peace, of comfort, and before Haru knew it, a weight from his chest had lifted. He felt—dare he say it—he felt, for a moment, almost as free as he felt in the water. Friendship was a crazy thing.

Makoto looked up at him, and his old happy smile graced his face.

Haru smiled back.