It was two weeks since we broke up, but it felt like an eternity. I was at the pool before practice at dawn, trying to throw myself into something—anything, that would get my mind off Sam. Also, the school had consented to giving me another chance, considering that the professor for statistics didn’t curve the grade for anyone at the end of the semester and the entire class failed.

That was my saving grace.

Now I had one semester, one last chance to revive my GPA. I had to dive in and work hard, on both my academics and the swim team.

But what does it matter, a nasty little voice in the back of my head whispered, What does anything matter without Sam?

I was alone in the pool room, the light beams dancing and shifting along the walls. Any sound echoed through the colossal space and bounced around, reverberating.

I swore that I could hear the echoes of the whispers from my own thoughts in here, eating at me.

My stomach growled and I tugged my speedo up. I hadn’t been eating much since the breakup, and my body was disgustingly skinny at the moment. I had to force myself to eat.

But I threw myself into the pool and started swimming, panting, making the water bend to my will. It was the only thing I still had control over.

Then when I was at the deep end, I lost motivation. What was the point? To keep going through the motions to get a piece of paper at the end? What was the purpose of all this suffering?

I let all the air out of my lungs and let my body sink to the bottom of the pool like a rock. Since I barely had any body fat, I went down quick.

I hit the bottom, the calm, silent world around me and the water pressure pressing down upon my body. I opened my eyes, ignoring the sting of the chlorine, and looked around. Then I looked up. I loved the way the water’s surface looked like a shifting mirror when you were under it. It allowed you to see a whole other side of things; the underside of things.

I went back up for air and then sunk to the bottom again, reveling in my sadness. There was something comforting from being at the bottom of the pool.

But I truly hated swimming. I couldn’t wait to quit. Sure, I was good at it, but there was nothing I hated more.

Sitting at the bottom of the pool and looking up, I saw a flash of color along the side of the pool. Orange? It stuck out to me.

I swam to the surface, resenting this person who had interrupted my quiet suffering.

My head burst through the surface and I took a great breath inward, filling up my lungs with the chlorinated air.

It took a few seconds to blink the chlorine out of my eyes. When they finally cleared and regained focus, I was surprised to see none other than Sam at the edge of the pool.

Was I dreaming? Was I dead?

He waved at me tentatively, and I felt a severe awkwardness coming off his body that was very unlike Sam.

My delight was swiftly smothered by contempt. How many times over the past two weeks had I attacked our memories in my mind; trying to flay them with my words? How many times had I gone to sleep crying, haunted and tortured by the bliss we’d briefly shared?

“What do you want?” I asked, my eyes narrowing.

He looked stung and I instantly regretted my harshness.

“I came to tell you something.” He said, leaning down by the edge of the pool.

“What, come to tell me that I’m not good enough for you? To rub it in my face? You know, I’ve been getting better each day that you aren’t here. It’s been hard, but it’s been going.”

I went to the edge of the pool and pulled myself up, sitting on the cold concrete next to him. Despite what came out of my mouth, my body was still drawn to him. I couldn’t deny this magnetism between us. It was filling my soul with much-needed nourishment again.

“You haven't been eating.” He remarked sadly, his eyes assessing my gaunt body.

I was quiet as he words echoed around the pool room. Then to fill the silence I said, “You know how it is.”

He looked into the pool sadly.

“I came by to tell you that you’re set.” He said.

“What do you mean I’m set?” I asked.

“I mean,” He said, “I paid all of your remaining tuition for this coming semester and your next year, if you choose to enroll for another year.”

My eyes went wide with alarm and I almost choked. “But Sam! No!”

“It’s done,” He said.

“But—but that’s so much money! And you said that your business was going under!”

“I don’t care about that anymore.” He said standing up, and looking at me with this— this fire in his eyes that I’d never seen before. “I care about making you happy. And if this makes up for a fraction of what we had, of what I’ve put you through, then maybe it’ll be enough.” He said, looking at me with that flame.

“Sam, I can’t accept this,” I said, standing up and looking into those eyes with a fire of my own.

“It’s what I want.” He stated stubbornly. “And you don’t have to do this anymore. You can be whatever you want to be. Or not. Keep swimming. You do you.”

I couldn’t believe what was happening to me. The man of my dreams, who had broken my heart was now standing here in front of me, granting me—granting me freedom?

“And don’t worry about your room and board either, I have that covered too.” He said.

I was speechless. I didn’t think this was possible. I wasn’t used to not having to worry about my money situation.

“Now you can study like a regular student and have normal expectations for yourself,” he said.

There was quiet, and for a moment we stared into each other’s eyes. I could feel that something imperceptible to anyone but me had shifted and turned the world a little bit. Again, I could feel that connection we shared in full force. But then he broke eye contact and the concrete wall was back.

“I should go.”

“Sam, wait!” I cried, but he was out the door before I could catch him.

Even with all of this, even if he had solved all my problems, I didn’t care if I couldn’t have him. Before he closed the door I shouted, “I don’t want the money!”

I had no idea what I was doing; I was relinquishing all control. “It doesn’t mean anything if I can’t have you!”

He stopped in his tracks and looked back at me, his eyes full of disbelief.

“Please, Sam.” I said. “Please… I was scared.” I said. “I said things that I didn’t mean. You see the real me. This.” I gestured to my emaciated body. “You see the real me, and you still look at me like you want me!” I gasped, choking back ugly tears. “I need you.”

He closed the door and turned back towards me, closing the distance between us so we were both standing at the edge of the pool.

“I was scared too.” He said, a deepness in his eyes as he looked down at me. “I couldn’t bear to be in your shadow, with my plans and safety net falling apart around me.”

“Here, look.” I said, going to the bench near the wall where my stuff was, digging out my phone from my pile of bags and athletic gear.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I want to show you something.” I said. I fished out my phone, and brought it over to him. Then I went to my Instagram page, and with a few clicks, brought up the settings.

“Evan, no!” Sam said, but it was too late. I jerked my phone away from him so he couldn’t reach, and deleted my entire account.

“Why the hell did you do that?” He asked, his eyes wide.

“Because.” I said soberly, “It’s not important to me. I hate it all. I hate the likes and the comments and the people peering into this fake version of my life. They’re liking a fake me; the mask I put on for everyone, for this university. But you just let me cast off that mask and to truly start living as who I am.”

He was looking at me, speechless. “And who is that?” He asked softly.

“Evan White.” I answered, “Former chubby kid from Tennessee, grew up poor, hates swimming…”

I took a step closer to him, closing the distance between us, “and I’m gay— for you, Sam.”

There was a moment of silence that hung in the air, and only noises of the water lapping at the filter for a few seconds while I drank in his fiery gaze. It was that—that powerful connection — that my soul had been missing.

Then we kissed, our lips pressing against one another.

I was whole again.