Dirty depths

Chapter 1- Grime

I tug at king's leash softly, and he comes up beside me. His paws playing an adorable tip tap sound against the concrete road. My fingers tighten around the umbrella at my side when the cool air brushes my skin.

I glance up at the sky, basking in the radiance and calm of the full moon at the dead of night. At the boisterous and swift sound, my gaze falls to the river, rushing after the rain. ‘An unexpected pouring in the middle of December.’ I sigh, yawning. Functioning on 3 hours of sleep isn't working, I couldn't sleep after my exam thanks to the rain delaying my schedule and of course; King. I yawn again, eyeing the Han river. A patch of ivory in dark waters drew my attention. ‘No way.’ I huff, leaning closer to the railing. A person. Unmoving. Face plunged into the water.

‘Are you kidding me?’ I tighten King’s leash at the railing, yelling for a guard. No reply, the cabin bereft of any light when I turn to it.

‘Excellent,’ I turn to the river again, frowning as I tuck my phone in King’s pocket and throw the umbrella on the ground before diving in. The chill of water, cold and biting invites gooseflesh throughout my body. The flow of water, strong and unrelenting, buries me. I breathe for air, my lungs aching from the lack. Hurry. I must hurry or I'll lose him. Swimming back towards King is implausible. I can't swim against the current while pulling a man with me. I blink in an attempt to clear my eyes, they burn and irritate thanks to the dirty water,  and perhaps the strain I've put my vision through the entire day. I look around, finding him floating away.

Huffing, my shivering hands reach out for his t-shirt, fisting it. ‘Wake up! please!’ words quiver at my lips, water filling my mouth. It smells pungent, and tastes muddy, and awful. I feel a sensation similar to hurling, but my empty stomach helps keep it at bay.

When I glance up, holding the man tightly, my heart drums in terror, immense terror. If I could just swim diagonal, we would be saved. I put the man's arm around my shoulder, a feeble attempt to swim. He's breathing, he's alive. Thank god.

I swim, a viscous attempt, trying not to drown, to not let him slip away. it's difficult, and requires much attention and strength. Unfortunately, I have none right now, but I try. I hurry. I flail in the water, we're near. I feel my calf graze against a stray trunk, the ache bearable but I'm aware it will worsen soon from the cold.

I grip at the wall, it's of no use. The surface is disgustingly sticky. I grab at a raised stone, embracing the slits it offers. If this guy was awake, it'd get so much easier. How can I reach the land with him in my arms? It's impossible to climb up while holding him, I'll just be pulled down. Helping him up in his unconscious state is out of consideration, this man weighs more than me. The only option is to wait until someone spots us, or to drift further away from here where the land is on level with the water.

I rack my brain, contemplating, considering even the worst case scenarios, until a firm grip on my waist pulls me out of the trance. I turn to look at the man, he frowns, assessing the predicament, his other hand slings, gripping at another raised stone stationed much higher than the one I clinged on. He pulls us to the land easily, like it wasn't a strenuous task. I had expected one of us would reach first and then help the other, but this works out better.

I pant, cold pricking on my body as I collapse on the ground. ‘I almost fainted there.’ I whispered to myself. The man perches on the ground, scanning his surroundings with knitted brows, I sit up next, examining his delicate and refined face, his expression biting and austere.

There's no mistaking it. Brown hair dripping with water, strands stuck on his pale and spotless skin, a muscular build, gleaming lips and piercing grey eyes. I would've taken him to be a handsome man you see only once in your life if not for his white t-shirt and red striped track pants. God dog. The t-shirt reads.