This is our last goodbye
I hate to feel the love between us die
But it's over
Just hear this and then I'll go
You gave me more to live for
More than you'll ever know

last goodbye • jeff buckley

PLUNGE
Volume 0.2    Ink

Mar 30th, 2020

3 months and some days after Sylas Bailey's infamous diving accident, Oscar Piastri arrived at his West London flat and found an off-white envelope resting on his dining room table. He had just arrived home from having dinner with a friend and was planning on calling Sylas, whom he had not seen since early the previous morning, to make visitation plans for the next day.

The envelope had Oscar's name scrawled in inky letters, in handwriting which he immediately recognized as that of his British best friend's.

With a frown upon his face and his phone already poised to call Sylas, he set down his bags and closed the door, locking it behind his back. He then approached the table with near tangible caution, actively willing away the sick feeling deep in his stomach. He picked up the envelope, held it for a long moment, then walked into his kitchen and carefully cut the letter open with a knife.

Disregarding his need for delicacy, he pulled the paper out and unfolded it with rushed hands, abandoning the envelope on his kitchen counter. It was only when he read the first few lines that he stopped fidgeting and went perfectly still, eyes widening with every word they ran over.

Oh no. No, no, no, no.

The panic written on his face was only exemplified when he finished his reading and turned over the paper a few times, trying with growing desperation to discover anything that could dismiss the whole thing as a prank or even a dream. Upon finding nothing of the sort, he cast the paper aside and took three large strides to where his phone was still sitting on the dining room table. His fingers felt large and bumbling as they tried to call Sylas, taking a few unnecessary detours along the way.

And yet, even when he did finally call the Brit, even when he did finally have the chance to run back through the letter while the phone rang in his ear, like anything would change the second time around, there was no answer.

There was no answer the first time, even though the phone call definitely rang on the other end. Then there was no answer the second time, or the third time. And even though a small piece of his heart chipped and shattered each time his phone told him "Sy🖇️" was unavailable, he kept calling. As long as it kept ringing, he kept calling.

That ended up being 26 times. 26 calls until it started only ringing once then going to voicemail. The sound of Sylas' voice was enough to have Oscar actually break down, letting out every tear he had been holding inside as he tried to send a text, tried to confirm what he already knew. He sank against the counter, phone blurry in his grasp and pressed send.

And somewhere in Beijing, a young British diver was in his new dorm, sitting on the floor next to his own kitchen counter. He had tears falling just as hard as Oscar's and his fingers were still burning hot where he had pressed those tiny red letters mere moments earlier.

They were 8000 kilometers apart, and drowning just the same.

Oscar,

I firstly want to apologize for leaving like this. I need you to know that above all else, you are my best friend. I would never do this purely out of spite or some other hidden agenda. You matter so greatly to me its hard to put into words sometimes. That's exactly why I'm doing this. You deserve the world, and right now I can't give you that.

From the moment I met you six years ago, I know you would become an intolerably large part of my life. You were funny, smart, driven, confident, all traits you have today, and I couldn't help myself around you. We became fast friends, and I don't know how many times I've amazed myself with how quickly I put my trust in you. Surely not more times than you've amazed me by proving that you deserve it. Every ounce of my being has been influenced by you in some way, and I couldn't be more grateful.

I will sound like a broken record, and probably one you've heard before, but I couldn't care less. I am so, so, so grateful for you. I'm grateful for the smiles, I'm grateful for the unwavering support. For all the days you spent with me in recovery. For the moments of escape, for the shoulder to cry on and the breath to match. For the heart that beats in sync, for the person I can call home. I'm grateful for every single thing about you and every single thing about our friendship. My greatest fear is you thinking that this changes that gratitude in any way.

Three months ago, it all became too much. The pressure built up over years of training and competition finally exploded, and it unleashed with it a whole host of new issues and challenges for me to overcome. I've seen the videos, the replays of what happened. I've seen the fear in your eyes. The pure terror in my mum's. I overworked myself, and it nearly killed me. I can't let that happen again, especially not in front of the people that I love.

Which brings me to the issue at hand. I'm going to take some time for myself. I can't be the person I need to be for you, for anyone else that I'm close to, and certainly not for myself & my career. The accident gave me unbridled clarity on my life, as much as it also threatened to end it. Although I wish it hadn't happened in such a violent fashion, it was in some ways a necessary wake up call. It is so important to me that if I keep doing this, and I will, that I do it in the right way. In the healthy way. And that foundation is first established on a clean slate. A fresh start.

I'm sure I don't need to tell you how much this is breaking my heart, but I'll apologize for however long it takes for you to understand anyway. And I could never and will never sit here and expect any form of forgiveness from you. If nothing else, I expect hatred. It would be justified. I suppose I will not know for a long while.

Please don't try to get a hold of me. I've taken all the steps. I was moving out when you last saw me, not in. I've been in that room for a few weeks now, and I've been saying my goodbyes to everyone at that center over the last few days. Not even they know where I'm going. And, yes, you would be able to find out if you really, really tried, but I know you better that that. I am going to ask one thing of you, which is to not try. Don't ask my family, or my team, or anyone. And knowing you, knowing us, I would be shocked if you disregarded my wishes. You're good like that.

I'm sorry again, and I love you again.
Miss you already.

Sylas

🏊‍♂️

hi brats!

prologue is finally done!

i wrote this fic to take a break from writing a very dark fic (see u soon charles) so it's pretty cute and fluffy, and yes the initial accident is the only major bad thing that happens, although my boys do touch upon the accident and it's effects a lot in the context of their relationship and lives 4 years later!

that doesn't mean this fic is lacking in angst or language (or other adult content) so do note that plunge is, in fact, marked as mature work ;)

all this to say, have fun with syscar! (osclas?)

+lmaoooo "youre good like that" is lowk insane like i would crash out so props to me for writing that??

+DANNYRIC U DESERVE THE WORLD I MISS YOU ALREADY VCARB WHEN I CATCH YOUUUU