Archive of Our Own

The water shimmered under the dim blue lights, still and undisturbed. Chlorine hung heavy in the air, echoing off the tiled walls like a memory refusing to fade. The school trip had ended hours ago. Everyone else was gone. Everyone except them.

Seulgi stood barefoot at the edge of the diving platform, shoulders stiff, her shirt hanging off one side like she didn’t care anymore. Below, the pool yawned open, deep, quiet, endless.

Jaeyi was sitting on one of the benches near the lockers, pretending not to look. Legs crossed, arms folded. Cold. Distant. Like she hadn’t been crying in the bathroom earlier. Like she hadn’t been avoiding Seulgi for two days straight.

Seulgi looked down at the water, then at Jaeyi.

“I can’t swim,” she said.

Her voice echoed. Just that. No fear in it. No accusation. Just a fact, like saying I’m still in love with you without the shame.

Jaeyi’s head turned slowly. Her expression didn’t change. “Then don’t jump.”

Seulgi took a step closer to the edge.

“You’re not talking to me.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

Seulgi smiled, small, bitter. “You owe me a goodbye, at least.”

Silence. Heavy. Crushing.

Then Jaeyi stood up, her shadow stretching long across the tiles. “Get down, Seulgi.”

But Seulgi didn’t move. She just closed her eyes for a second, like she was already underwater. Like she was already sinking.

“I don’t know how else to make you look at me.”

Then she jumped.

Seulgi jumped.

For a split second, Jaeyi didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. She waited for the splash, watched the water break, and then waited for Seulgi to resurface.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Okay. Come up now. Stop being dramatic.

Four.

Jaeyi stepped forward. The surface remained smooth except for the ripples, circling out in silence like a secret being told too late.

Her heartbeat kicked up.

She’s messing with me. She always does this. This is just her being, 

Bubbles rose. Then nothing.

No. No no no no no, 

Jaeyi’s feet were already moving. Her jacket hit the ground. Then her phone. Then her body hit the water.

It was colder than she thought it would be.

And darker.

She kicked down fast, searching through the thick blue for a shape, a shadow, anything. Her chest tightened, not from the pressure, from the fear. Real, clawing, suffocating.

Then she saw her, limp, arms out, hair floating around her like smoke.

She wasn’t lying.

She really can’t swim.

You idiot.

You let her jump.

Jaeyi grabbed her by the arm, pulled her close, and kicked hard. Her lungs burned. Her eyes stung. But she didn’t care.

Not her. Not like this.

When they broke the surface, Jaeyi gasped, dragging Seulgi with her, coughing, choking on air and chlorine. She swam them both to the edge, arms shaking as she hauled her up onto the tiles.

Jaeyi knelt beside her, dripping, breathing hard, her hands still trembling.

Jaeyi pulled Seulgi onto the cold tile, arms burning, chest heaving, but Seulgi didn’t move.

Didn’t cough.

Didn’t open her eyes.

Didn’t breathe.

“Seulgi,” she said, softly at first. “Seulgi, wake up.”

Nothing.

Jaeyi’s hands hovered, then landed on her shoulders, shaking her once. Twice. “Stop it. Wake up. This isn’t funny. Seulgi, !”

Still nothing.

The air snapped out of Jaeyi’s lungs all at once. She dropped beside her, fingers trembling as they tilted Seulgi’s head back. Training. Basic health class memories. Blurred. Slippery. Useless.

But her body remembered what her brain couldn’t.

One breath in.

Another.

She pressed down. Compressions. Counting. Too fast. Too hard. She didn’t care.

“Come on,” she whispered. “Don’t do this to me. Don’t, don’t be stupid. You always say dumb shit, but this, this is too much.”

Another breath.

She didn’t even notice she was crying until her tears hit Seulgi’s cheek. “I didn’t mean to ignore you. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t think you’d actually, ”

Seulgi’s body laid still on the tiles, soaked, lips parted just slightly. Her skin was pale, too pale, blue beginning to bloom around her mouth.

Jaeyi’s chest collapsed in on itself.

“No. No, no, Seulgi.” Her voice cracked. “You have to breathe.”

She tilted Seulgi’s chin up with shaking fingers, brushed wet strands of hair off her face. Her hands were clumsy. Hesitant. Terrified. She leaned down, sealing her mouth over Seulgi’s, breath trembling as she exhaled once. Twice. Nothing.

Then she started compressions. Her arms moved on autopilot. She didn’t know if she was counting right. Didn’t care. Every press felt like punishment, like she was trying to shove life back into her, like she was pushing down all the words she hadn’t said.

“You idiot,” Jaeyi whispered through clenched teeth. “Why would you do this? Why would you make me, ”

She stopped. Her breath caught.

Another round. Mouth to mouth. Her lips brushed Seulgi’s again, and it felt wrong and desperate and sacred all at once.

“I didn’t think you were serious,” she muttered, voice breaking between breaths. “I thought you were just, just being dramatic. You always, ”

She pressed again. Harder.

“You always look at me like that and expect me to come running. So I didn’t. I thought, ” her voice caught in her throat, “I thought you’d be okay.”

Her tears were dripping onto Seulgi’s chest now.

“Come back,” she whispered. “Come back, please, just once more, I swear I’ll, ”

A small jerk beneath her hands.

Jaeyi froze. A breath. A tiny, strained, awful breath.

Then a cough, wet, painful. Seulgi’s body convulsed, water spilling from her mouth as she choked, gasped, coughed again.

Jaeyi immediately slid her arms under her, cradling her upright, pressing her close.

“You’re okay,” she whispered, over and over. “You’re okay. You’re here.”

Seulgi leaned into her, weak and dazed, and whispered, “You kissed me.”

Jaeyi let out a strangled laugh that sounded more like a sob.

“Don’t be stupid,” she said, fingers curling into Seulgi’s soaked shirt. “It wasn’t a kiss.”

But the truth hung in the air between them, sticky and sharp.

Because it had been.

And Jaeyi had been terrified.

Seulgi coughed.

Once, twice, wet, awful sounds that echoed against the tiles, and Jaeyi’s body nearly collapsed. Her arms went weak around her without warning. Her breath hitched, catching in her throat like something sharp.

She was breathing.

She was alive.

But for a terrifying moment before that, Jaeyi had seen it.

The stillness.

The silence.

The possibility that Seulgi might not wake up.

And it had felt like something ripped inside her.

Her entire life, Jaeyi had been good at pretending. She knew how to look cold, untouchable. She knew how to use silence like armor, how to disappear in plain sight. But none of that prepared her for this.

None of that meant anything when Seulgi wasn’t moving.

That hadn’t been heartbreak.

That had been grief. The kind that starts before someone’s even gone. The kind that settles deep into your bones and whispers, you did this.

And she had.

She had ignored the messages. She had walked the other way in hallways. She had laughed with her friends like nothing had happened, like she hadn’t kissed Seulgi three weeks ago and whispered stay into her neck.

And Seulgi, stupid, stubborn Seulgi, she still chased her. Still looked at her like she mattered. Still climbed to the edge of a diving platform and jumped just to be seen.

And Jaeyi hadn't believed her.

She’d thought it was a bluff. A trick. A plea.

But the second she saw Seulgi sink?

The second the bubbles stopped rising?

She knew.

She knew what it felt like to lose her. Not in theory. Not in future-tense. In real time.

And it broke something in her.

Now, sitting on the wet tile with Seulgi trembling in her arms, Jaeyi couldn’t stop shaking. Her chest was tight. Her hands clung too hard. Her lips were pressed against Seulgi’s hair, and she didn’t even know why, except that she had to feel her. To know she was there.

She didn’t cry. Not yet.

But the tears were building. Pressing against the back of her eyes like they were waiting for permission.

She’d almost lost her.

And no amount of pride or pretense or distance could protect her from that kind of fear. It was ancient. Primal. The kind of fear that rewrites your whole body.

Jaeyi tightened her grip on Seulgi’s damp shirt and whispered, barely audible:

“I thought I’d never get to touch you again.”

And that was the truth of it.

The horror hadn’t just been losing Seulgi.

It was the finality of it.

The silence that wouldn’t end.

The cold lips.

The hands that didn’t reach back.

“I would’ve given anything,” she said, voice cracking, “just for one more second.”

But now Seulgi was breathing.

And Jaeyi didn’t know what to do with that second.

So she just held her. Quiet. Shaking. Alive.

Seulgi’s breaths came in short, uneven bursts against her shoulder, each one pulling Jaeyi back from the edge, inch by painful inch.

She didn’t realize how tightly she was holding her until her arms started to ache. But she didn’t loosen them. Couldn’t. Her fingers dug into the soaked fabric of Seulgi’s shirt like she was afraid the girl might slip back beneath the water if she let go.

Her cheek rested against Seulgi’s damp hair. Every few seconds, Jaeyi tilted her head just slightly, listening for the sound of her breath, feeling the rise and fall of her chest. Making sure. Always making sure.

“Breathe slow,” she murmured, voice barely more than a breath. “You’re okay. You’re okay now.”

Seulgi didn’t answer. Her head lolled against Jaeyi’s shoulder, heavy and half-conscious.

Jaeyi pulled back just a little, just enough to see her face. Pale. Eyes half-lidded. Lips parted from the effort of breathing. There was water still clinging to her lashes.

She’s here. She’s alive.

Jaeyi reached up with trembling hands and brushed the hair out of her eyes. Her touch was featherlight, like Seulgi might crack beneath it.

“Don’t do that again,” she whispered. “Please.”

Seulgi blinked slowly, unfocused. “You’re crying.”

Jaeyi’s lip trembled. “I know.”

She lifted one hand, brushed her fingers gently along Seulgi’s jaw, slowly, like she was learning her for the first time. Like she’d forgotten how close they used to be. Her thumb ghosted over her bottom lip, trembling at the memory of the breathless CPR, the way her mouth had tasted like chlorine and fear.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get to touch you again,” Jaeyi said softly, the words catching in her throat.

Then, without planning, without thinking, she leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t a soft kiss. Not at first.

It was desperate. Salty with tears. Clumsy from panic. Her mouth moved against Seulgi’s like she was trying to press all the things she couldn’t say into her skin.

But Seulgi kissed her back.

Weakly. Slowly. Like it was the only thing she remembered how to do.

Jaeyi pulled away just slightly, their foreheads pressed together, their breaths mingling in the cold, damp air.

“I thought I lost you,” she whispered.

Seulgi closed her eyes. “You didn’t.”

But Jaeyi didn’t believe her. Not really. Not yet.

So she kissed her again, softer this time. Slower. A promise sealed between trembling lips.

And then she held her tighter, like she’d never let her go again.

Seulgi barely stayed awake.

Her body felt heavy against Jaeyi’s chest, every step echoing in the empty halls of the pool building. The silence was different now, no longer heavy with fear, but something softer. Fragile. Like everything might shatter if Jaeyi said the wrong thing.

She didn’t speak.

She just held her.

Arms under her legs and back, one hand pressed against the curve of Seulgi’s spine, as if she could steady her heartbeat through skin.

Jaeyi’s clothes were still soaked. Her shoes squeaked against the tile. But she didn’t care. The cold didn’t register. The weight didn’t matter.

She carried her through the darkness, out the back entrance where no one would see them, and into the quiet streets. Her house wasn’t far. A ten-minute walk, maybe. Five, the way Jaeyi moved now, fast, focused, like nothing else mattered.

Seulgi stirred once, mumbling something that sounded like her name.

Jaeyi bent her head closer, whispering into her hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

And she did.

Her room was dimly lit, curtains drawn. The moon cast pale shadows across the floor. Everything felt too quiet after the chaos, but Jaeyi welcomed it.

She laid Seulgi down gently on the bed, hands lingering longer than they should. Her thumb brushed over Seulgi’s cheek, wiped away the damp strands of hair clinging to her skin.

“You’re freezing,” Jaeyi murmured, more to herself.

She moved quickly, got towels, extra blankets. She peeled off Seulgi’s wet shirt, fingers delicate, never rushing. She handled her like she was something breakable. Like even the smallest mistake might make her slip away again.

Seulgi’s eyes blinked open, hazy and heavy. “Where are we?”

“My room,” Jaeyi whispered. “You’re safe.”

“You carried me?”

Jaeyi swallowed. “Yeah.”

A beat passed.

“You always carry me,” Seulgi said faintly, like a memory more than a sentence.

Jaeyi froze.

Then she gently wiped Seulgi’s face with the edge of the towel. “You always make me.”

She helped her out of her wet shirt, keeping her wrapped in warmth, never letting her be cold for more than a second. Her touch was careful. Tender.

Once Seulgi was wrapped in dry clothes and buried beneath blankets, Jaeyi sat beside her. Close, but not touching.

Seulgi’s lips were slightly chapped. Her breathing was still uneven.

Jaeyi watched her. Every breath.

“Do you want water?” she asked.

Seulgi shook her head. Her eyes didn’t leave Jaeyi’s face. “Do you want to lie down?”

Jaeyi hesitated. “No. I need to watch you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I do.” Her voice broke on the words. “You don’t get to disappear on me again.”

Silence.

Then Seulgi reached out, fingers curling weakly around Jaeyi’s wrist.

“I didn’t jump to disappear,” she whispered. “I jumped so you’d see me.”

Jaeyi didn’t respond. She just leaned down, pressing her lips to Seulgi’s forehead. A kiss as light as breath. As sacred as a prayer.

“I see you,” she whispered.

And this time, she meant it.

Jaeyi stood beside the bed for a long moment, her fingers tightening in the fabric of her own hoodie.

Seulgi was shivering again.

Even under the blankets, her lips were pale, her damp clothes clinging to her skin like they were trying to steal the warmth back out of her. Jaeyi’s chest tightened at the sight.

“I need to change you,” she said softly. “You’ll stay cold if I don’t.”

Seulgi blinked slowly, her head sinking deeper into the pillow. “Okay.”

She didn’t resist. She trusted her. That fact alone made Jaeyi’s hands shake.

She moved with care, like handling porcelain that had already cracked. She peeled off the soaked shirt first, tugging it gently over Seulgi’s head. Then the undershirt, thin and wet and clinging.

Jaeyi’s breath caught as she saw the faint bruise forming on her collarbone from the fall. She wanted to reach out, to press her lips to it and say I’m sorry. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She just breathed through it and kept going.

“Arms up,” she murmured, kneeling beside the bed.

Seulgi obeyed, barely awake, eyes fluttering closed again as Jaeyi slipped a dry sweatshirt over her head, her sweatshirt. Oversized and soft from too many washes, sleeves swallowing Seulgi’s hands.

Next, she worked off the damp track pants, slow, steady, always speaking low to let her know what was happening. “Almost done. Just your legs now. Okay?”

Seulgi nodded, barely conscious.

Jaeyi tugged on a pair of her own pajama shorts for her, loose, comfortable. She adjusted the blankets again, tucking them tight around Seulgi’s sides. Then she stepped back.

And stared.

Seulgi, in her clothes. In her bed. Pale and quiet and so heartbreakingly alive.

It undid her.

She sat on the edge of the mattress, brushing the hair back from Seulgi’s face with gentle fingers.

“You look small like this,” she whispered.

Seulgi stirred faintly. “I feel small.”

Jaeyi’s voice trembled. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“I won’t,” she mumbled. “I promise.”

But promises were fragile. Jaeyi knew that too well.

Still, she leaned down, pressing a kiss to Seulgi’s temple, slow and full of everything she hadn’t said. Her lips lingered there for a moment longer than they should have, her hand resting just above Seulgi’s heart.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight tonight.”

“Okay,” Seulgi whispered, barely audible. “Stay.”

“I will.”

And Jaeyi meant it.

Not just for tonight.

Not just because she was scared.

But because this, caring for Seulgi, protecting her, loving her quietly, this was the only thing in the world that felt real.

The room stayed quiet.

Outside, the wind moved through the trees like a whisper. The clock on Jaeyi’s nightstand ticked softly, minute by minute, hour by hour, but inside, time didn’t seem to matter anymore.

Seulgi slept, curled beneath Jaeyi’s blankets, her breath slow and steady now. One hand rested beside her cheek, fingers twitching faintly with dreams. Her lips had regained some color. Her skin, no longer ice-cold.

Alive. Real.

Jaeyi sat in the chair by the window, knees pulled to her chest, wrapped in a dry hoodie she barely remembered changing into. She hadn’t touched her phone. Hadn’t eaten. She didn’t even want to sleep. The thought of closing her eyes, of letting Seulgi vanish from her sight again, was unbearable.

So she watched.

At first, she told herself it was precaution. She just needed to make sure Seulgi was breathing okay. That she didn’t have some delayed reaction, didn’t stop in the middle of the night and slip quietly away while Jaeyi wasn’t looking.

But after a while, she stopped pretending.

She wasn’t watching for danger.

She was watching because she missed her.

Because this, Seulgi, asleep in her clothes, curled in her bed, was the closest she’d been to her in days. Maybe weeks. Not just physically, but truly close. No masks. No walls. No games.

She looked soft like this. Young. Peaceful.

It hurt to look at her and remember how close she’d come to losing all of it.

Jaeyi pressed her forehead to her knees, closing her eyes just for a second, but the memory was still there, waiting in the dark.

Seulgi, sinking.

The stillness of the water.

The silence.

Her lungs clenched just remembering it. She reached for the glass of water on her nightstand with shaky hands, but didn’t drink. Just held it.

Eventually, the moon shifted. The clock struck four. And Seulgi stirred.

Not much, just a small sigh, a shift of her leg beneath the covers. But it made Jaeyi sit up straighter. Her eyes were trained on her instantly.

When nothing else moved, she got up and walked slowly over to the bed, kneeling beside it.

Her hand hovered above Seulgi’s forehead, then settled there gently.

Still warm. Still breathing.

She let her fingers rest there, gently brushing her hair back, over and over, in slow, absent motions.

“You almost died,” she whispered, like saying it quietly would make it less true.

Seulgi didn’t stir.

“I don’t think I could’ve lived with that,” she added, softer still.

A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

So she did the only thing that made sense, she leaned in, kissed Seulgi’s forehead again, and whispered against her skin:

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

She didn’t expect forgiveness. Not tonight.

She just needed to say it.

And then she sat beside the bed, leaned her head against the mattress, and stayed there. Watching. Guarding. Holding onto every breath like it meant something.

Because this time, it did.