He cries out when he finally lands on the floor, arm pinned under his stomach—and then he lays there panting, trying to but feeling something not-quite-right burning through his lungs. He's in too much pain to focus, tears forcing their way out his eyes and down the bridge of his nose; the cold down against his cheek and chin help nothing, because he's sit too hot, still a time bomb of agony with every breath he sucks in.

He can't remember what happened, for a moment. He just tries to breathe, lets out a strangled gasp at the effort, and then gags and coughs and his nerves scream all over again while blood slowly, intimately, drips from his lip and is breathed across the ground.

it hurts

Suddenly he remembers being a small child, pinned in a school bus filling with water. He remembers screaming for help, while every jerk and twitch sent lancing pain throughout his legs. Despite every fiber of his being wanting to pass out, he slowly turns his head so that he can see—and he sees Cid.

What was he doing here again...? His head is all fuzzy. Pin-pricked with dots and blurs. All he can remember is their conversation by the pool. About monsters. About turning into one.

And then he realizes maybe this is what Cid feared.

"Cid... s'okay..." He tries to breathe. "I told you—f'you keep trying, I'll keep trying, too... You won't—turn into a monster.... You're—good kid."

He can't move. Moving just makes it harder to talk.