A/N: This was mostly written as a test. As well as written for my sister. (She had asked me to write something along the lines of "how would Haru feel if his friends had died in the ocean?" and this is what became from that.)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or Free! Iwatobi Swim Club.
Most people call it an unfortunate accident, the death of the three swimmers in the ocean during a storm.
Haru would call it murder.
The water murdered his friends; the two things that had rivaled as what he loved most.
He had heard Makoto's scream, and he dashed into the ocean. Nagisa had gone after Rei.
Makoto had too much water in his lungs. Nagisa and Rei never returned.
The irony of the funeral was that it was damp outside. Haru's growing hate for the water deepened.
He didn't sit in his baths anymore, he didn't strip in public. He barely did anything, honestly.
He just wished he could've saved them.
Haru had never realized how much he took his friends for granted until the incident.
Makoto and his reaching hand, always there for Haru to grasp; Nagisa and his hyper remarks; Rei and his careful calculations– all of them had pulled Haru through the days quickly.
Makoto and Nagisa were childhood friends. Rei was a newcomer, who had practically worshipped Haru to its depth.
Haru missed their quirks.
He missed the way Nagisa would constantly move, the way Makoto was always at close proximity, the way Rei pushed his glasses up and turned his head in superiority– he missed the things he hadn't noticed before.
Sometimes, during the grueling days, Haru would almost think his friends were still there.
He would mistake the boy in his gym class for Makoto just because they both were tall; he'd mistake a small child on the street for Nagisa just because of their enthusiasm; he'd even mistake the track coach for Rei because their stance is the same.
Haru missed his friends badly.
He didn't want the sympathy, he wanted his friends back. If they were back he'd give them the respect and affection they had deserved.
He missed their eyes, always so bright with excitement. He missed their smiles. He missed their voices. He missed their torsos. He missed their opinions. He missed them.
To Haru Nanase, water is a murderer.
To Haru Nanase, water took his friends from him.
To Haru Nanase, water opened his eyes.
To Haru Nanase, water was the sole thing that killed him inside.