In Jeff's opinion, the day had started out pretty normally. The Warblers had all woken up around the campfire and decided to go to the beach. No biggie – Jeff was Australian. The whole country was surrounded by water. He used to live in St Kilda – right on the sand!
But, despite the insane amount of wealth gathered by the families of boys here, not many of them had similar experiences. Which Jeff found bizarre. Sure, most could swim – they'd all been on yachts since before they could walk anyhow. But the whole idea of a beach was novel, and when it came time to read the sets or looking out for turbulent water, even after Jeff's tutorage most were clueless.
So they'd done the traditional beach volleyball and body surfing (and actual surfing, by Jeff and Callum, who'd grown up in Santa Cruz), lunch at an ACTUAL fish and chip place (run by ACTUAL Greek-Australian immigrants) and now most of the guys were lazing around in the afternoon sun.
"Blaine. Pass me your glasses." He thought he could hear someone calling, far out.
The world came into half-focus.
Shit. Hands. Halfway out. The prescription wasn't strong enough to work out who it was, but that was irrelevant – by the time the glasses and shirt hit the burning sand, Jeff was diving into the rip.
It was Trent. The blonde could see him panicking, struggling to keep his head above the water as wave after wave crashed over his head, the turbulent water sucking him closer and closer to the back. Which now, terrifyingly, was only about 50 feet away – not so big, but Jeff knew Trent would be too worn out and scared to even contemplate swimming his way back to shore.
"Yo! It's Jeff. We're nearly out, okay, Trent? Can you lie on your back for me?"
"HELP! Jeff, help me, I can't reach the bottom, I…" his words were replaced by coughing as the salty water from the next wave filled his mouth.
"Trent, listen to my voice. Either lie on your back and let it carry you – we're going to stop in about 20 feet – or swim towards me."
"I… can't…" Jeff heard tears in his voice. He sat back, counting the metres left.
Finally they were both out the back and the waves died down. Jeff swum up behind the freshman, wrapping him in one arm and started pulling him away from where the rip had been. "I've got you, Trent. We're out of the rip now. We'll move away from it, and then we have to swim back. Can you do that?"
"I can't touch the bottom…" Trent was still panicking, though he'd stopped flailing as soon as he'd felt Jeff's solid arm around him. The boy just had a calming touch about him…
Jeff shook his head. Right. Just get to shore. Don't get dragged under, or dragged sideways, or dragged out. Get them both to shore.
It was an effort. But after what seemed like an hour, Jeff's and Trent's feet hit the bottom. And after an eternity, they hauled themselves out of the water and onto the dry sand.
Immediately they were surrounded by bodies everywhere. "God, are you two okay?" "What the HELL happened?" "Trent, how long were you out there?" Hands everywhere clapped Jeff on the back. But he pulled Trent away, towards where Nick and Blaine were waiting, towels at the ready.
They were barely sitting down when Trent rolled into Jeff's lap, too exhausted to even sit, and burst into tears. "I… I… I thought I was… going to… going to die…"
Jeff held him close. "How long were you out?" With a sinking feeling, Jeff realised that Trent hadn't eaten lunch with them… They'd all walked off and forgotten him.
"I don't know." Trent sniffed, groaned, then looked into Jeff's eyes. "You saved me."
"Ah, no biggie." Jeff grinned. "You're not considered a proper Aussie 'til you've dragged some screaming Asian from a shark… Little rips like that I'm used to."
"It burns…" Trent rubbed his eyes. "Stupid salt got in my nose…"
Blaine passed him a handful of jellybeans. "Here. Eat. You too, Jeff, you both need sugar."
Nick, meanwhile, was busying himself making sandwiches for the pair – Jeff had just sprinted the ocean, twice, carrying Trent for half of it, while Trent had completely worn himself out fighting the rip, on an empty stomach.
Finally they'd all eaten and drank. Jeff pulled the freshman in closer to him. "Trent, you don't have to tell me why you went out alone. But I want you to know that we're here for you if you need anything, okay?" He whispered, putting a cap over his eyes.
"Thanks, Jeff. For saving me too. Even if…" he let it hang. "No. You saved me. All that matters." Trent curled up into a ball in Jeff's arms, and Jeff lay back into Nick's, and Nick fell back into Blaine's lap. And, in the warmth of the evening sun, the strange conga-line began to find some peace.
More Trent!angst. Poor darling. I am writing the next chapter of my Trent/Warbler/Wes fic, but it still needs a little more tweaking.
I'd love dearly to call this a drabble but it's kinda twice the length. Ah well.
Like it? Hate it? Want me to capsize while on a raft? Please let me know!
Keep smiling! :D