The freezing shock of the water stole Alex's breath the instant he plunged in. His scream turned into a burst of bubbles, swallowed by the dark depths of the well. The cold seeped into his skin like knives, stealing feeling from his limbs. He fought to kick upward, but his body felt sluggish, uncooperative, as if the icy water were already claiming him.
Something tugged at his ankle. Hard.
He gasped again, this time dragging water into his lungs, coughing violently as panic surged through him. He flailed in the narrow shaft, his fingers scraping against slick stone walls, finding nothing to hold onto. The harder he struggled, the stronger the pull became, something unseen gripping him from below—something alive.
His lungs burned. His body trembled violently as the cold numbed his muscles. He tried to swim upward, to scream for help, but his voice was lost to the churning water.
This is it, his mind whispered through the blur of fear. This is how I die. In this place. In the cold. No one will find me here.
Images flickered behind his fading vision—Grey's worried face over breakfast, the empty cabin, his mother's diary lying hidden and lost. Would Grey be sad when he heard? Would anyone from school even care? A strange calm washed over him, the kind that comes when the body begins to give in.
His eyes dimmed, his body limp, drifting downward toward the bottom of the well. Then, just before his consciousness slipped away completely, a sound echoed faintly above
him—
A splash.
Someone had jumped into the water.
The dark silence of the well was broken by ripples and frantic motion. Even as his vision faded, Alex felt hands—real, warm hands—grabbing his shoulders, pulling him upward through the freezing dark. Then everything went black.
When Alex's consciousness returned, he found himself lying on cold ground. Beside him, Louis sat quietly, water dripping from his hair onto his face, his clothes soaked and clinging to his skin. Lily knelt nearby, gently licking Alex's hand in a comforting gesture. Louis's face was etched with worry, and the three sat in uneasy silence for a moment before Louis gently helped Alex sit up.
Looking deeply into Alex's eyes, Louis asked softly, "What were you doing down there? Were you trying to… you know… do something to yourself?"
Alex shook his head vehemently, his voice trembling from the cold and shock. "No, no… I just fell. Someone pushed me as I was drawing water from the well," he said between shivers, his teeth chattering.
Alex sniffled and sneezed as the cold settled deep into his bones. His clothes were soaked through, clinging heavily to his trembling body. Seeing his condition, Louis frowned and said gently, "You can't stay out here like this. My house is much closer than your cabin—come with me before you catch a fever."
Alex didn't argue; he simply nodded, his voice too weak to respond. When Louis tried to help him stand, Alex attempted to rise but his legs buckled beneath him, sending a sharp jolt of pain up from his knees.
Without hesitation, Louis crouched beside him and said quietly, "Don't push yourself. I'll help you." He slipped one arm around Alex's back and another beneath his knees, lifting him carefully. The weight was awkward, but Louis moved steadily, mindful of Alex's fragile state. His wet clothes clung coldly, and water still dripped from his hair into the dirt below.
Lily trotted beside them, her fur still damp, stopping once in a while to glance up at Alex, as if making sure he was still breathing. The grocery bags, heavy and forgotten near the well, were slung carefully in Louis's other hand as they started down the narrow road.
The path twisted gently through the trees. The sound of their footsteps mixed with distant bird calls and the creaking of the old wooden bridge they crossed. The forest felt quieter than usual, as though holding its breath.
Louis's home soon came into view—a modest cottage tucked between tall pines, its chimney trailing a thin wisp of smoke into the afternoon sky. As they approached, he adjusted his grip around Alex and whispered, "Just hang on a bit longer. You'll be warm soon."
Alex managed a faint nod, his eyelids heavy, and let himself rest his head against Louis's shoulder as they walked the final stretch toward the small, welcoming house.
When they reached Louis's house, he carefully placed the heavy grocery bags on the table. Without hesitation, Louis led Alex directly to the bathroom, knowing that a warm bath was urgent since Alex was still shivering uncontrollably from the cold.
Alex tried to insist that Louis should take the bath first, but Louis shook his head firmly. "No, you need it more than me. Go first," he said kindly.
Though Alex felt shy about accepting help, he politely declined Louis's offer to undress and bathe him. Louis respected his wishes, gently helping Alex sit near the bathtub before stepping out to give him privacy.
At first, the warm water soothed the aching scratches and small cuts on Alex's hands and feet. The bleeding had stopped, but the wounds still throbbed painfully, a reminder of the fall. After soaking for a while, Alex felt a bit stronger and tried to stand, but as soon as he stepped out of the bathtub, his legs gave out beneath him, and he fell hard, screaming in pain.
The weakness and tremors Alex felt were early symptoms often associated with mild to moderate hypothermia—his muscles were still not fully recovered from exposure to the freezing water and prolonged cold. Recovery from such hypothermia generally requires gradual warming and rest to avoid further injury or complications.
Louis heard the sharp thud and Alex's sudden scream pierce the quiet of the house. His heart dropped. Without a second thought, he stormed into the bathroom, ignoring Alex's startled shout of, "Wait—don't come in!"
But it was too late.
Louis froze in the doorway for half a moment—the sight of Alex trembling and collapsed on the floor made him forget his embarrassment. Alex's skin was pale from the cold, and water still dripped down his shoulders. Trying instinctively to cover himself, Alex's face flushed crimson, his arms crossing awkwardly over his chest.
Louis didn't say a word. He grabbed a clean towel from the nearby rack, quickly crouched beside him, and wrapped it around Alex's shivering frame. "Don't move," he said softly, his tone calm but firm. Then, with careful strength, he lifted Alex in his arms once again and carried him to the bedroom.
Alex averted his gaze, cheeks burning even redder as the towel clung to his damp skin. "I—I could've managed," he muttered faintly, but Louis only gave a quiet sigh in response.
Gently, Louis set him down on the edge of the bed. He fetched a folded shirt and pair of soft, dry pants from the nearby cabinet—his own clothes, slightly oversized—and placed them beside Alex. His voice was low when he said, "Change into these. I'll be outside if you need anything."
Without waiting for a reply, Louis turned and left the room, closing the door behind him with care.
Alex sat in silence for a moment, staring at the clothes and feeling the heat of embarrassment mingled with exhaustion. As he reached for the shirt, he noticed through the faint crack of the door that Louis's ears were red too, betraying that the scene had flustered him just as much.
For some reason, that small detail made Alex's lips curl into a faint, tired smile.