As they reach the heart of the cave, the stench of rot­ting sea­weed and damp stone fills the air, min­gling with the salty tang of the approach­ing tide. The ground beneath their feet is slick with mois­ture, and the sound of waves crash­ing against dis­tant rocks grows loud­er, more insis­tent. John­no watch­es Will’s face as the laugh­ter around them starts to fade, as the real­iza­tion creeps in that this is more than just a game. The blind­fold robs Will of the con­fi­dence he usu­al­ly wears like armor, and for the first time, John­no sees him with­out the veil of effort­less charm that had always kept him one step ahead. The group, now qui­et with the weight of the moment, watch­es as John­no tight­ens his grip on Will’s shoul­ders. Will shifts uncom­fort­ably, a ner­vous chuck­le escap­ing his lips. “Alright, John­no,” he says, try­ing to keep the amuse­ment in his voice. “Joke’s over, yeah?”

But it isn’t over. Not yet.

John­no has car­ried the weight of this moment for years, a heavy stone press­ing against his ribs, wait­ing for the right time to break free. He has spent too many nights replay­ing the past, trac­ing every betray­al, every humil­i­a­tion, every time Will had used him, manip­u­lat­ed him, left him behind. This night, this cave, is his stage now. The mem­o­ry of their school days floods his mind, the night they thought they were invin­ci­ble, the night they took things too far. He can still see the face of the boy they called “Lon­er,” can still hear the plead­ing in his voice as they tied him to the rail­ing, laugh­ing, so sure that the tide wouldn’t reach him. But it had. And in the morn­ing, he was gone. They had promised nev­er to speak of it again, and Will—self-assured, gold­en, untouch­able Will—had moved on as though it had nev­er hap­pened. But John­no nev­er had. He nev­er could.

Will’s shoul­ders stiff­en as Johnno’s voice final­ly breaks the silence. He lays it all out, every griev­ance, every wound that had nev­er quite healed. The stolen busi­ness oppor­tu­ni­ty, the bro­ken promis­es, the betray­al that went beyond school­yard cru­el­ty and into some­thing far worse. Will tries to brush it off at first, tries to play it cool, but there’s a crack in his voice that John­no catch­es. He’s afraid. Not of the cave, not of the dark, but of what John­no knows, of what he might final­ly do. “You think you’re the vic­tim?” John­no spits, his hands curl­ing into fists. “You always do, don’t you? You think you can just walk away from every­thing, like none of it ever mat­tered.”

The tide creeps clos­er, lick­ing at Will’s shoes, and for the first time, he pulls at his restraints, test­ing them. John­no takes a step back, watch­ing him strug­gle, watch­ing the con­fi­dence drain from his face. For a split sec­ond, he con­sid­ers push­ing this fur­ther, mak­ing Will feel even a frac­tion of the fear they had once inflict­ed on some­one else. But some­thing stops him—a flick­er of exhaus­tion, of real­iza­tion. He isn’t Will. He isn’t like him.

With a sharp breath, John­no turns and walks away, leav­ing Will in the cold embrace of the cave, the whis­pers of the tide grow­ing loud­er around him. He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t need to. The past will always be there, but tonight, for the first time in years, he isn’t the one drown­ing in it.