Chapter 449: The Mercy of Drowning
The sea was calm one moment and merciless the next.
Darcy kicked upward, lungs burning. His oxygen mask had been given to Micah, leaving him with nothing to breathe. He tried to exhale, bubbles spilling from his mouth as he swam toward the surface. His chest ached like it might split in two, his body felt heavy, weighted down by Micah’s limp figure in his hold.
Finally breaking the surface, Darcy dragged Micah toward the boat, gasping. "Hold on," he muttered, voice shaking with exhaustion as he kept Micah’s head above water. "Just... stay with me."
Micah’s head lolled, unresponsive. His mask had fogged, eyes shut tight.
"Shit," Darcy cursed, pushing harder through the waves until they reached the side of the boat. He hooked one arm around the ladder, the other wrapped Micah’s limp torso. "Help! Hey!" he shouted, voice breaking. "Pull him up!"
But there was no one on the boat. Darcy gritted his teeth and did it himself, using sheer adrenaline to haul Micah’s body onto the deck. He followed, collapsing beside him, water spilling off both their wetsuits.
"Micah!" Darcy yanked the mask off his face. "Hey!"
But there was no response.
Darcy’s expression shifted, panic cutting through the shock. His hands trembled as he checked for a pulse, weak, almost gone. Micah’s chest wasn’t moving.
He didn’t waste a second. Tilting Micah’s head back, he sealed his mouth over his and gave five deep breaths.
Still nothing. "Come on, damn it!" Darcy’s voice cracked.
Then he pressed both palms against Micah’s chest and began compressions, counting under his breath. "One, two, three, four..." he kept counting until thirty, then gave Micah another mouth-to-mouth breathing.
Then, finally, a gasp.
Micah’s chest rose, his lips parting as he coughed.
Darcy sighed in relief and leaned back, collapsing beside him. His arms and legs trembled from the effort, his breath shallow and uneven. "You idiot," he muttered under his breath, voice hoarse. "You freaking idiot."
Micah wheezed faintly, eyelids fluttering.
A few minutes later, the guide emerged from the water, panting heavily.
"Thank god you two are okay. For a minute, I thought I was fucked! I couldn’t find you two anywhere."
Darcy glanced at him. "He was tangled in a kelp strand. Call an ambulance," he said sternly before his eyes returned to Micah’s pale face. His jaw clenched, unreadable emotions flickering across his drenched features.
The guide stiffened, suddenly alert. His eyes darted toward Micah, who was breathing heavily, gasping for air, while his pupils were trembling.
The young man didn’t wait any longer. He started the engine, muttering. "Let’s get out of here. The water is turning murky." The motor rumbled to life, and the boat lurched toward the shore.
Darcy brushed wet strands of hair away from Micah’s forehead, his hand lingering for a second before pulling back abruptly.
When the boat finally reached the dock, paramedics were already waiting, alerted by the guide’s distress call. They rushed forward, lifting Micah carefully onto a stretcher, checking his pulse and oxygen saturation. Then they secured an oxygen mask over his face.
By the time they reached the car, Micah had regained his consciousness fully. He tried to yank off the mask, but one of the medics stopped him. "Easy, you need to breathe in it until we get to the hospital. You drowned while inhaling compressed gas. We have to rule out decompression illness before we let you go."
Micah looked at him, confused.
Darcy wrapped the towel more tightly around Micah. "Listen to them," he said flatly. His eyes were cold now, his earlier panic buried under something unreadable.
Micah gave a small nod. His chest burned, and his head throbbed like it had been split open.
The journey to the hospital and the administration passed in a blur. The hospital smelled of antiseptic and salt. Machines hummed quietly while doctors examined him, voices muffled behind the masks. After giving him fluid and running tests, the doctors decided to start Hyperbaric Oxygen Therapy since he had lost consciousness. The medical team placed him inside a hyperbaric chamber, slowly adjusting the air pressure to help his body absorb oxygen and recover.
When they sealed him in a pressurized chamber, all Micah could think about was Darcy waiting outside, silent.
After all the fuss, Micah demanded to be discharged. This time, Darcy didn’t stop him.
Hailing a taxi, they returned to the villa. But before going inside, Micah reached out and tugged at Darcy’s shirt.
The young man turned his head in response.
"Can we talk?" Micah mumbled.
Darcy shoved his hands into his pockets and studied him for a second. Then he walked toward the beach near the villa.
Micah took it as a yes and followed him. They sat under the shade of a large umbrella. Micah took slow sips from a bottle of lemonade, tasting the words before finally speaking.
"Thank you..." His voice came out rough, barely a whisper.
Darcy, sitting a short distance away, gave a quiet hum in response. He was staring out at the sea, elbows resting on his knees, his dark hair falling over his eyes.
Micah peeked at him from the corner of his eye. The young man looked distant, almost like a stranger. His jaw was tight, his expression blank.
He fiddled with the plastic bottle cap. Words gathered in his chest, messy and uncertain. When he had been underwater, on the edge of blacking out, all he had thought about was regret. He had regretted how he had not apologised to Darcy. That he hadn’t been honest with him.
Maybe now was a good time to talk. He gathered his courage and began to speak. "I really mean it," he said softly. "I am grateful to you... And I owe you my life. If you haven’t found me down there..." He swallowed hard, his throat tightening. "I thought it was over. I really did."
Darcy’s gaze didn’t move from the waves.
Micah took a sip from the bottle, moistening his lips. "I’m already indebted to you, you know...after everything with the baby swapped and all. But now this... I swear, I’ll do anything you ask to repay you."
Darcy cut in, voice flat. "Even if I ask you to kill someone?"
Micah jerked, eyes widening. "Huh?"
Darcy watched his reaction. His lips curled into a faint, bitter smirk. "I thought so," he muttered, then stood up abruptly. "Don’t say what you don’t mean."