Author's note: I hope everyone has had a nice christmas( I know I did). Short chapter I know, but I'll post a longer one after the new years.

The light returns, and little by little, so does the sensation that I am no longer in the water. I am lying down on something flat and hard, my body still wet. When I open my eyes, my vision is blurry and the light is almost too bright.

Then my chest heaves, and I cough, long and hard. Water falls out of my mouth, several gulps of it – my body twisting to the side instincitvely to get it out of me. My shaking hands grip my stomach, which hurts. But I don't know why. I have to focus all of my energy on breathing, though it hurts, and for several minutes I lie on my side, breathing rapidly like a scared animal.

My mind starts racing, trying to understand what has happened. The last thing I remember was being in the water, enveloped by it, safe. Protected. I couldn't understand why my lungs are burning, or why I felt like I had just come back from a cold place.

Then I can hear a voice above me, one that I know instantly who it belongs to. But why is Aro even here? Even though my vision is still hazy, his dark clothes and pale skin is unmistakable. My vision is hazy and his skin looks like it glows. He is kneeling at my side, and when I reach out my hand and touch his knee, I realize that the fabric of his clothes are soaked through. He's breathing hard too, from what I can hear. I can feel him shiver all over.

When our eyes meet, his widen as his hands grip my shoulders tightly – the force of his hands almost painful. The white of his eyes are pink, and its a startling sight. He's shaking me, and his face – its twisted with some sort of desperation that I have never seen before. When I try to listen to his voice, I realize that he's speaking way too fast to understand any of it. It's almost like he's speaking gibberish. He lets go when I do not speak or answer him, but he still continues to shiver.

I begin to sit up, trying to reach for him – but I'm still catching my breath, so I have to stop every couple of seconds to gather strength. But finally I do. I glance down at the pool – I am no longer in it. I can't stop staring at the bottom, but no matter how hard I look, what I saw is no longer there. There is nobody around but me and him.

"You didn't mean to do it, did you?" he asks, his voice steady and calm even though his apperance says otherwise. I don't answer at first, only stare at the water, still so calm and inviting. I don't know what to say.

"If that is what you still want..." he mutters, shaking his head. He has turned away from me now and I can't see the expression on his face. Then suddenly he stands, water dripping from his hair and clothes. He begins to walk away. And he doesn't look back, not even once. I don't know why this pains me more than anything I've ever felt.

Perhaps it is because he cared enough to find me here. Nobody has ever done this for me, not ever. Suddenly I feel panicked, watching him go. I feel like a creature gone mad, rising on legs that still shake, breathing with lungs that feel too old and too heavy. I brace myself on a chair behind me, before hurrying after him. Maybe its my imagination, but his pace slows down as I catch up to him. My hair clings down my back like a wet rug and I know that I must look a mess, but I don't care about any of that as I hug him from behind, my thin arms winding around his torso and the side of my face pressed to his back.

Please don't go.

There's a lump in my throat as I try to speak, but I know that I must say something. I can feel hot tears falling down my cheeks as I hug him tighter – I can feel him breathing under my hands. He has not pushed me away just yet. There's no warmth from his body, but I don't need it. I press my face against his back, the muscles beneath his wet clothes tensing.

"I'm sorry. Aro, I'm really sorry. "

After that, he takes me home to my apartment - carrying me part of the way. I still cough every now and then, but we pretend I don't. Even though it was me he found at the bottom of the pool, he seems similarly affected - tired and worn out by what happened. I try to tell him to go home, to get out of his wet clothes - but he doesn't move from his spot on my couch.

The stare he gives me in response is somber, decisive. He looks like someone ready to snap, to scream or yell. Instead he starts staring at my cat with an intensity bordering on absurd.

"I won't leave until I've seen you showered and dressed. Then you will eat something and I will watch you. " he says slowly, his tone of voice not allowing any objections.

As I'm showering, I can hear footsteps nearing the closed door to the bathroom. Is he there on the other side, listening? Does he still think that I'm going to...

I don't finish that thought, as I know by now what he must be thinking. He has been right about many things in regards to me, and this is just one of many. But instead of it being creepy it just makes me feel...cared for. Nobody has ever given me this much attention.

He's still in his wet clothes that smell of pool water as I'm eating a quick microwave pasta meal, sitting opposite him by the the kitchen island. It's starting to be a little weird. He stares at me as I eat, following the journey of the fork to the plate to my mouth several times, a thoughtful expression on his face. It continues this way throughout the whole meal, and neither of us say anything. When I'm done and have thrown away the plastic container from the meal I have every intention to tell him that its time to go, that I'll be fine now.

But I don't want him to.

Something in my face must have told him this, because he rises from his chair, the first clear and quick movement from him in hours and it makes me flinch. There was intention in his eyes just then, but it falters and dies at my reaction. So now, he understands.

But instead of being disappointed or disgusted - because he must have guessed, must have known by now, he slowly puts the chair back in its place and gathers up his wet office blazer from where it has been hanged out to dry on the balcony before coming back to me in the kitchen. And as if he has already done it a thousand times, he quickly smoothes my hair away from my face and kisses a spot on my temple. Then he leans back and smiles down at me with gentle eyes.

"I will go now, but I would like to come back tomorrow. Is that acceptable?"