It was such a stupid decision, looking back. Now, on his way home from the hospital. He couldn't even get his head, haha, completely around what had happened. But he remembered the beginning- and then knowing he was fucked, and then waking up choking, lungs burning like acid. And now he was wrapped in warmth, two bodies tucked tightly into his side, as the driver played some pop station quietly, and the two drifted off to the gentle sway of the car and the heat.

~~~~~~~

"No seriously, don't. Do not." Ethan giggles, his voice higher than a moment before.

"Dude, it's fine. You think I, a master in everything I do ever, could do anything badly?" Mark scoffed. Amy chuckled from her position on the pool floaty.

"Cut the bullshit, you're not on camera." Amy laughed.

"Oh, I'm coming for you next. I dunked him once, and now it's your turn. Watch a master shark at work." Mark said proudly, only making Ethan laugh more. And then, he put his hands above his head and dove.

It was a stupid decision. He knew it as soon as water shot up his nose. He flailed under the water, the twelve feet already rapidly decreasing between him and the bottom. His hand shot to his nose. And then there was the crack. He realized for a few seconds after, that the sound was probably his own skull cracking. He realized he wasn't scared, or even trying to swim up. It was a strange sense of calm, knowing you had just done something that was killing you, but not being afraid of it. It was dark. Then he was gone.

~~~~~~~

"Shit wait, hang on, Mark stop." Ethan said quickly.

"He can't hear you." Amy grinned.

"No, fuck, I don't think he's faking. There's something wrong." Ethan said quickly. He dipped under in the cheap goggles, and even through the fog he could tell Mark wasn't moving. Someone holding their breath would float at least, right?

"Ethan, it's fine."

"Call an ambulance." Ethan said, ignoring her completely. He heard some form of Amy yelling, asking if he was serious now, before he took off. He blew out through his nose as he swam, then rose, taking a deep breath. Amy's hands were clasped over her mouth as she tried to run through the water to get to a phone.

Dragging someone limply through the water wasn't easy like in movies, where the actors both had air in their lungs, and were being pushed by a diving team, or pulled by ropes that are edited out. Mark was heavy at the bottom, and Ethan's breath almost left him when he realized Mark definitely wasn't helping him swim to the surface. He tucked his arm under Marks armpit, and then swam, dragging and pushing to get to the surface.

All he could hear was ringing in his ears and his own gasping for air, and Marks lack of it. Amy's shuddering voice as he dragged Mark towards the steps out of the pool. All he could think of was the weak CPR training he had years ago, and multiple obscene words, as his body kicked in on instinct and adrenaline alone. There was no doubt. No feelings that he might do it wrong. He just had to do it right. Simple as that.

He had never been able to move Mark before. He'd tried to pick him up, or lift him over his shoulders. But he was smaller, his muscles weren't as strong, it was a fact. Not in a bad way, he just wasn't strong enough to lift a human. But this time he hauled Mark up each step, body completely limp, without anything in his own body protesting. Shock was a hell of a strengthening drug. As soon as Marks body was flat, having scratched his back across the pool pavement, he started.

Tilt the chin up, head back.

"Mark? It's not funny anymore."

Two rescue breaths. Pinch the nose. Mouth to mouth. One. Blow. Suck a breath. Two. Blow.

"Mark, come on."

Chest compressions. One, two, three, four, five.

"Mark! Fuck, wake up!" Ethan screamed, and Amy was at his side now. He couldn't hear a word she was saying, but he saw her hand come away from his hair bloody, and his own vision swam with stars.

One breath, two breaths.

"Please- please."

One, two, three, four, five.

"Please! Come on, it's not funny!" Ethan croaked, his hands pressing into Marks chest with all he had.

One, two. One, two, three, four, five.
One, two. One, two, three, four, five.
One, two. One, two, three, four, five.

Water. Vomit. Relief.

Mark choked and sputtered, head falling back and water splashing out. He gagged, and Ethan's instincts kicked in once more, turning him on his side to expel the water and stomach contents, before he fell backwards on his ass completely. His mind felt numb and his ears were still ringing. Amy was crying, one hand on his head keeping him upright to some extent, so he wouldn't choke, and the other smacking Marks back.

The rest was a complete blur. The sirens silenced as they got closer and the personnel came through the gate. They asked exposure questions before getting close, and faintly Ethan heard Amy swear at them and tell them they were all quarantined, and to just hurry up. Marks eyes were unfocused as they lifted him to the stretcher, and they landed on Ethan, and it all came crashing down.

As soon as he was out of the yard, Ethan sobbed. Amy sat down beside him, and he wrapped his arms around her. Fuck, she was crying too. He couldn't form proper thoughts, much less do any comforting. But this seemed like enough, as she hugged him back just as tightly. The dogs had at least been in the house for once, thank god. He couldn't imagine if they had gotten in the way of the chest compressions.

Ethan cried until he thought he might also need to go to the ER. He felt like he might vomit, and his lungs were burning, making him cough against the congestion. The terror was still rushing through his body. Amy was no better. Her fear was more silent, but she was still crying, cracking at the seams.

"Ethan."

"He's-"

"Take me inside." Amy spoke up. Her voice was congested and weak, and Ethan just nodded. He stood on shaky legs, and he ran on autopilot, both of them holding each other as they walked in, half for stability, and half because they didn't want to let go.

Ethan followed Amy as far as their bedroom before he stopped, falling to the floor. He didn't care that he was leaving a puddle on Marks floor. His hands found his face, rubbing and wiping away the old, and fresh tears fell, muffled by his knees as he drew them up to his chest. He could've lost him. They could've lost him. He could have broken his ribs and punctured a lung. He could have done it wrong and just not even gotten him back. He hadn't even told him-

Amy's comforting presence behind him helped to ground him enough to get up. She was wearing dry clothes, but also didn't seem to care about water right now, as she had left her swimsuit on the bed. She hugged his bare back, and her skin touching his was a nice reminder that they were safe. He was safe. It wasn't a nice reminder that Mark was not, just yet.

Ethan managed to stand and get dressed at some point. He wasn't sure when between the dissociation and the crying. Amy was hugging him from behind on the floor, saying she knows, she knows. Knows what? And then he was on the couch, and Amy had wrapped a blanket and a pair of thick jeans around his shoulders. Who's jeans were these? Probably Marks, but he didn't wear jeans often.

"Why am I wearing this again?"

"Because you're going into shock." Amy said curtly, turning away from him. Ethan's brain suddenly went from zero to a hundred. What had he said? What was he doing? They needed to be at the hospital. Had they called yet? She was mad. Is she mad?

"Amy, is he ok?" Ethan asked quietly. Amy didn't move, except the slight tremor of her shoulders. Ethan untangled himself from the blanket and heavy clothing to stand behind her. He was wearing dry clothes, he noticed again. But it was definitely Marks shirt, a couple of sizes too big.

"Amy, is he ok?!" Ethan asked urgently.

"I don't know. They're working on him. You zoned out when I got on the phone. Holy shit Ethan." Amy breathed, finally turning towards him. She wrapped her arms around him immediately, and he hugged her back just as tightly. He buried his head in her hair, and smelled chlorine. It turned his stomach.

"When will we hear back?"

"I'm not sure." Amy said honestly. Ethan nodded and moved them both back to the couch, not letting go of her as they sat down.

"We can't- um, there's no visitors." Ethan tried. His brain was still catching up. Amy just nodded.

"We should, or at least. I don't know. Ethan, what do we do?" Amy asked quietly. Her hand went to her mouth as she tried not to sob again, and Ethan's own breath rattled out into a bitter giggling as he did the same to stifle it.

"I don't think we can drive right now." Ethan said quietly.

"Ok. Ok... alright, uh- Uber. We need to pick him up. We need to be there. We can sit on the curb, away from everybody." Amy said. It was mostly to herself.

"Agreed." Ethan spoke up, letting Amy go as she abruptly searched for a her phone. She swore about having put it down. He barely registered her paying for the driver until the warmth of her skin came back into contact with his. He hugged her and again buried his face in her drying hair. Chica came wandering up, and Amy petted her with one hand, the other curled up and clinging to Ethan's- Marks- shirt.

He moved to let her get her legs up into his lap, curling up until their driver arrived. And he shook with fear, and sadness, and shock, as she wrapped the blanket and heavy jeans back up around his shoulders. They didn't move until the car was three minutes out, at which point they slipped on shoes, let the dogs out in a blur of movement, called them back in, and locked up the house. As they approached the curb they saw the driver pulling towards them. If the driver knew them from YouTube, he said nothing. Just offered well wishes as they clung to each other in the back seat, Amy taking the middle seat just to be close to another human.

~~~~~~~

Marks eyes hurt, even after being released. He didn't have a phone on him, but someone in the hospital should let him use one, right? And yet, as he looked for a phone, he was ushered out into the sun, told to stay out of the wings because of the virus that had swept through, for his safety. He didn't need too long to figure out a plan though, as he saw two heads of familiar hair sitting by the discharge door. They were further back, off the side of the curb, Amy's head rested on Ethan's shoulder, and Ethan's arm curled around her protectively. For a moment he just wanted to watch. He had almost died for fucks sake, he could stare if it wanted. But it was his own damn fault. How stupid was that, huh?

Now his head was bandaged, a stitch on his forehead, and his mouth tasted of a plastic tube. His voice was hoarse and his whole body felt like he had been hit by a car. But he was standing. He was alive. And he was contemplating what to say.

I'm alive.

That was so stupid.

I can never thank you adequately for that.

Nothing fit. Nothing was good enough. The doctor told him a younger boy had done CPR immediately and had managed to make him vomit and cough up the water that had entered his lungs and stomach. Ethan has saved him. Maybe if the ambulance had gotten there, they could have saved him anyway. Maybe. Or maybe he could have died right there and his last words would have been about being an alpha shark, or whatever the hell.

Dying didn't scare him. But leaving them like that did. He was seeing the aftermath as he looked through the window. He was seeing the grief. He'd seen it before, after the tumor. After the second surgery for scar tissue. But it wasn't grief then. It was worry, and sadness. They probably didn't even know yet if he was ok. And that's when the words stuck to his tongue like flypaper. He couldn't get them off. And suddenly he couldn't say it enough.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-

"I'm sorry." Mark practically shouted, his voice fractured and choked. Amy whirled around as Mark came running through the automatic doors. Ethan met her gaze, and his entire face changed, a mixture of relief, panic, shock, all in a few seconds.

"That was- reckless. I don't want to see you like that. Like this. I'll lay off the dumb stuff-" Mark started, but Amy cut him off, running from Ethan's grip and towards him. She flung off the mask she had been wearing and kissed him right there, arms wrapping around him, and his arms met her smaller body just as strong, holding her in place. And Ethan stood, and stared. He bounced his weight from foot to foot, breath coming out uneven and heart hammering.

He would never have been able to tell him. Just tell him. He was dizzy, and sweating, and Mark was ok, he was alive, and he was right there. Just fucking say it. But now isn't a good time, and they're-

"-Ethan did it. He got all that water out of you. He did the CPR." Amy sobbed, and Ethan's gaze snapped up. Mark just looked at him. There was a moment Ethan wasn't sure they'd ever move again. They could just become rooted to the ground right here. A simple thank you would be too painful, and praise would be too much. And instead, he got something he never expected, which didn't quite fit in either of those categories.

"I'm so sorry Eth." Mark said, barely above a whisper as he moved towards Ethan. And then just like Amy, Marks hands found his body, his waist, and he was kissing him. It was too much, and completely not enough, and his hands found solid ground in the hospital shirt they had given Mark, and his neck. He could feel Marks pulse under his fingertips, and he wanted to cry again. And he tried. He tried to stop it, but then he was sobbing. He was completely breaking, knees buckling, whining helplessly, because fuck- it was all too much. "The sun beating down, and the tears, and he almost lost him, and now he might lose him again, because Amy was right there while Mark kissed him, and, and, and."

Amy's arms settled around him from behind and Marks from the front. He was saying everything out loud. He was practically screaming it. How had he not noticed that? Was he still in shock? Softly, Amy's voice rang out in his ears first, settling the rushing of his heartbeat in his ears.

"Fuck, no, I don't hate you. Or Mark. Or- fuck. I love you both, ok? So whatever happens, we'll figure this out. Because clearly you care about him. And me, I mean, I'm pretty sure you've only been conscious for half of today, and you haven't let me out of your sight once. Ethan, you did good." Amy cried. Mark chuckled wetly, and Ethan looked up. When had Mark started crying?

"Don't- don't. It's ok. You're ok." Ethan said quickly, making Mark chuckle and put a hand on his damp face.

"Let's go home. I wanna see the dogs, and sleep for the next three days." Mark sniffed. Ethan nodded and grinned, sobering up as well and sniffling, standing up off the hot ground. Amy followed, and they each held out a hand for Mark to take.

"Well, shit." Amy sniffled, chuckling suddenly.

"We didn't order an Uber home. We weren't sure when you'd be out. Or if- if- you'd have to stay overnight. Or." Amy shook her head, as if clearing a bad etch-a-sketch.

"There's the bench. Mark probably does need an actual seat." Ethan commented. Mark turned and nodded his head, motioning for them to sit first. Neither of them did. Instead, they waited until he was safely seated, before pressing into his sides, heat be damned.

Ethan took his left, leaning his head into the sound of Marks heartbeat, and curling his arms around himself to help ground him to reality. Amy tucked her face to his neck, holding his body with one arm, and up around his back with the other. Ethan's hand found hers on his shoulder, and he held tight, reassuring.

And Mark could breathe. Despite the heat, and the burn in his chest, and the two bodies pressed into either side, he could breathe. He felt at home. Waiting on a car, which in a moment he'd have to tell the two, who were still in a bit of shock, that they hadn't actually called yet. But for now he sat. Breathing.