~Cassidy~

It’s funny how the smallest things in life can teach you the most valuable lessons.

Seeing a homeless person on the street can remind how lucky you are to have a shelter, have people that care about you, and to have money and the clothes that adorn your back.

Listening on the radio about war in poor countries can only persuade you to feel grateful that your country is financially and socially secure, knowing that you don’t have to be on edge every thirty seconds while waiting for the sound of an exploding bomb.

Hearing about children in Africa that can’t go to school because they don’t have the money to do so reminds you to feel grateful that you’re receiving an education, even if your teacher is a total douchebag or you’re failing every class, or you’d just prefer skipping and spending the rest of the day with the rebels that lean against the building and pass around cigarettes.

Listening to the radio or watching on television about how soldiers in the war have died; loved husbands, wives, friends, parents. It reminds you to feel grateful that you have a family; you have people that love you and would die for you because they cared for you so much they would sacrifice themselves for you.

It isn’t the big things that matter. It’s the small things that don’t even affect you, that might not even be happening in your country that can teach you about all of the components of your life that are so precious, so surreal to have, yet so out of reach for so many people.

And as I lay in darkness, none of these thoughts picked at my mind. I didn’t care about taking final moments to thank God for everything I’d had. I couldn’t care less, actually; the only thing running through my mind: I’m sorry, Matt.

Finally, I felt myself beginning to let go, not being able to feel anything around me, my mind relaxing. It actually felt kind of good. I wasn’t fighting as hard to breathe anymore, the components of my body slumping.

Just then, I started hearing muffled sounds, started being able to feel things again. The process was slow, only faint noises, as though I’d been talking to someone underwater, only being able to feel pins and needles in parts of my body that I couldn’t recognize. My darkness was illuminated by a crack, a sliver of light, before it disappeared. A moment later, it reappeared again, and the noises and feelings got louder and more prominent.

“Come on, Cassidy, come on!” Someone was yelling, and I could finally feel a sharp pressure being delivered to my sternum. It hurt like a motherfucker, and I felt so overwhelmed in a matter of seconds, hearing voices, feeling the intense pressure, all added to the combination of flashing between light to dark and back again.

There was more pressure, more intense blows being delivered to my chest; just when I was starting to genuinely feel inflicted with a slight pain, they disappeared. I was relieved for a moment before I felt something pinch my nose, and immediately panicked again. There it was again, that same suffocating feeling, my airway being cut short, and I felt trapped.

But then I felt something weird. Something I never really experienced before. Something warm came down and enveloped my lips in a protective embrace, and I felt air being breathed down my airway and into my lungs. My chest moved up before going back down, and I desperately prayed that whatever had just happened would happen again; it gave me oxygen.

It happened again, and I happily welcomed the feeling, sucking in as much air as possible and being so greedy, needing—wanting—to breathe.

“Come on!” that same person yelled out again, and the sharp blows to my chest resumed, followed immediately by that same calming breathing sensation.

And then I realised what was on my mouth.

It was another pair of lips.

They were warm and soft, and I momentarily took in the feeling of having another mouth on my own. It actually felt pretty nice.

Just then, I felt something bubble up from my chest. It was liquid, and it travelled up my throat and into my mouth, so much of it that my eyes flashed open and I turned over on my side as quickly as I could, opening my mouth and spewing out water. I retched, trying to control the spasms that my body was undergoing.

I was coughing, spitting up the liquid, trying to get it all out. What the hell had happened again? I was confused, disoriented, unable to make sense of anything going on right now, anything that had to do with this situation.

What?

My vision was blurry and bright. I blinked several times, still coughing up chlorinated water, my insides burning as I fought to breathe at the same time. Finally, my eyes managed to sharpen out after a minute, and I emptied myself of the rest of the liquid residing in my lungs. I think it was mostly gone by now.

Slowly, my hand came up to wipe at my mouth, and I almost turned over to look at my saviour, but I didn’t. I was too ashamed. This was the second time in less than a week that I’d been put yet again in a vulnerable position. This had to be some sort of sick, twisted joke, right? Seriously?

Finally, someone touched my arm, and I coughed again, trying to stop myself from breathing heavily and blinking the tears out of my eyes. I hated being weak, I fucking hated it, and this wasn’t something I prided myself on. I was a fucking Olympic swimmer, not some petty two-year-old that would drown as soon as they stepped into the water!

I warily turned around, hoping that I would come face to face with Matt. Instead, my eyes landed on a lean, tattooed body, pink, bow-shaped lips, and green eyes watching me intently, cautiously. The person’s hair was matted down onto their forehead, completely soaked, and they pushed it away from their face so that it stuck up. I smelled spearmint.

You had to be fucking bullshitting me.

“Cassidy…” Harry began, but my eyes widened and I scrambled away from him, realising that he was touching me and that we were very close.

No, no, no, this was not happening.

Curly had just performed CPR on me and had saved my life. No, wake up, Cass, wake up, this is all just one huge nightmare. Pinch yourself, do something, goddammit!

No, no, no, just fucking no!

“What the fuck?” I tried to yell, but my voice came out hoarse, and I coughed again, trying to stand but failing, and just deciding to scoot away from him on my ass. Harry looked stressed, and he ran another hand through his hair, sighing and staring at me, watching me closely, trying to figure how I’d react. He’d saved my fucking life; damn I didn’t want to be indebted to him.

Anyone but him, please.

And then I finally wrapped my head around it. It finally came over me, like a giant tidal wave washing across the beach, destroying everything in its path. I finally realised what that had meant.

He’d performed CPR on me.

His lips had fucking touched mine.

“Gross!” I screamed out the last thought, my voice raspy yet loud. I scrambled away from him, fighting to get to my feet. When I did, I stepped away from him. He only matched my steps backwards by moving forwards, and I shook my head, the whole thing seeming so surreal.

Oh my God, I couldn’t believe it. This was horrible, I owed him, my thoughts were scattered everywhere and I didn’t know what to do.

What could I do? Nothing; it had happened, it had come to pass, and I was done now, nothing could change it.

My brain couldn’t stop.

I was simply thinking about anything and everything, unable to form proper thoughts, each concept outweighing the other and overbearing everything before other could even have a chance for light to shine on them.

I wasn’t making any sense, was I?

Fuck, this was horrible.

In frenzy, my hands came up to paw at my mouth, trying to remove any essence of his lips on mine. I’d actually enjoyed the feeling of being kissed—for once—but it had been completely ruined once I’d figured out who the deliverer of the amazing feeling had been. It had been fucking Harry Styles. And that was just nasty.

“Why the fuck would you kiss me?” I shrieked—my voice squeaking and still so raspy from all of the chlorine that had travelled down my throat and nose. He sighed, taking another step towards me, which I matched with a step back.

Eventually he just decided to stop trying, “I didn’t kiss you,” he explained to me, his eyes pleading with me to listen, “I saved your damn life. If you would just listen—”

“I would’ve rather died!” I tried and failed to shout at him, my throat parched and dry. He winced; that was harsh, but I was too wound up to care right now. This could not be happening. The person that I currently hated most in the world had just saved my life, and I was indebted to him.

Worst of all, our lips had made contact while he had been doing so—and I’d actually liked it.

“Oh my God,” I croaked out, burying my face in my hands, before I realised that I was being weak again, and I dropped my hands, glaring at Harry with a hard face.

“I’m leaving,” I snapped, and without another word I pushed past him. I coughed breathily again as he called out my name, beginning to follow me into the changeroom, but I slammed the door and locked it, making sure that he couldn’t get in. I stalked over to my swim bag, still feeling extremely spent and tired from what had just happened, and threw on my clothes, not bothering to dry myself off.

Eventually, I was dressed in clothing that was now littered with wet patches, thanks to my bathing suit and my hair, but I couldn’t care less; I had to get out of here.

He’d fucking saved me. The thought ran through my head as I stalked down the halls of the community center, desperate to get to the exit. Fuck, I couldn’t let him think he’d had anything over me, but now he did. Now, he’d have the satisfaction of knowing that he had seen me in a vulnerable state not once, but twice. And I fucking hated it.

I hated him.

I pushed through the doors, the humidity outside hitting me like a punch in the face, and wiped my eyes, even though there was nothing there. The sky was cloudy, reflecting my exact mood, and I began walking away from the community center, my bag slung across my body.

“Kane!” someone yelled out from behind, and I peered over my shoulder to see Curly running towards me, wearing his shorts and wet top, his soaking hair still pushed up and spiked off of his face.

No. I was done with him for today. I whipped back around, gripping my swim bag tightly and breaking into a quick sprint. I’d had a head start, so I was able to get away faster, and eventually, when I risked a glance over my shoulder, I saw him finally slow to a stop and watched me run away. I turned back to the front and ran around the corner wildly, just wanting to put as much distance between us as possible.

God this was embarrassing.

I could not be more pissed at myself.

And as I rounded the bend of the building, I collapsed onto the ground blindly and did the one thing that I hated, that marked the second time I’d done it in less than a week.

I cried.

Notes

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I had a lot of fun writing it, so I hoped you had fun reading it! Let me know your thoughts down below in the comments section. I have several subscribers but barely anyone is voicing their opinion; I just want to know if you like where the story is going :)

Random fact: A duck's quack doesn't echo, and no one knows why.

Vote, comment and subscribe!

~You're all amazing~