Chapter Text
It's certainly a beautiful day. There's no denying it. The sun's reflection shimmers on top of the waves, drifting in and out of the sandy beach bank. Brighton beach shines in it's mid-summer glory.
Wilbur and Technoblade have both decided to go down to the beach that day, their friends' days activities already planned, leaving just them with each other's company. Tommy has dragged Tubbo up to the north to film a vlog with Jack Manifold, Eryn and Badlinu. The 'streamer men' as they call themselves. Ranboo isn't feeling the best, mild stomach ache and brutal headache leaving him with Tubbo's extra house to himself. Phil and Kristin are out shopping, and since Techno's recently flown over from the US, they figured it was the perfect time to spend time with each other.
The waves are deceivingly calm and gentle, lapping up at his ankles when Wil first steps into the water, but becoming more like a wave machine further out.
"Techno!" Wilbur calls up the beach, "Come join me! We can dive under the waves or something!" The brunette has to practically scream up the beach to be heard, the slight breeze being just enough to whip away his voice and carry it down the coast.
Technoblade shrugs and calls out a measly response that he'd be coming in a second, leaving Wil a few minutes to spare in the great ocean by himself.
The older pushes a loose strand of hair out his face, and scans the horizon, looking for a decent wave to dive under. He spies one looming in the distance, coming closer with each stronger gust of the breeze.
"Techno mate! You have to come and join!" Wilbur springs up to the surface, wiping the salty water off his face. He never really knew how much fun this was.
The next wave wasn't soon after, and Wilbur goes for it, launching himself under the wave in an attempt to clear it. But nope, all he does is just dive head first into the sandbank lurking beneath the surface.
The brunette stumbles with his footing under the water, clutching his neck in the process. The impact of the wave felt like someone had picked up his head and smashed it against a wall, almost like a coconut, until the sharp and shattering pain split through his neck and upper back. However, Wilbur doesn't have long until the next wave either, too lost in a world of pain and panic to steady himself before it comes, breaking right on top of him with an awful snap. Something really doesn't feel right now.
Then Wilbur loses his footing, and everything comes crashing down at once. His head is forced under the water, forced to take large breaths of something that definitely isn't air until his lungs are full of the salty, liquid taste. He splutters and coughs, still trying to take in oxygen that just wasn't there. His neck's feeling more and more weak; like it can't hold up his head, and the sickly, swirly feeling in his throat and lungs definitely isn't going away.
He can feel his eyelids drooping, even underwater, consciousness threatening to leave him.
Eventually he finds some sort of secure footing, and he pushes up from that, head coming out of the water only for vomit to come out of his mouth.
Wilbur stumbles up the beach, vomiting and gasping for breaths that never come. His throat feels like it is closing in on him, blocking in the sea water that sloshes around in his stomach. It is too salty, and all Wilbur wants to do was throw it up and get it out of his system; not to mention the splitting pain in his neck, making him want to crumble down onto the ground.
"Wilbur?" He can hear Technoblade frantically calling his name further up the beach, voice slowly coming closer until the younger's standing only a few metres away from him. Wilbur struggles to reply, choking sounds coming from his mouth instead. He is a bit like a fish on land. Choking and drowning on thin air.
That's when Wilbur finds his muscles becoming limp, and eyes closing up just like his throat. He doesn't really have any more energy to hold his whole six-foot-five figure up anymore, let alone actually breathe. The world is closing in on him far too quickly to register, leaving him with his only choice of giving in, slumping down on the ground and hoping for the best.
Techno can't react quickly enough to catch Wilbur's frame, plummeting towards the sandy ground. He can only run forwards just as the brunette hits the sand, collapsed, reaching him as the impact makes his body roll onto its back.
The younger immediately whips his phone out of his pocket, dialling 999 with as much haste as his fingers can let him. He pushes the phone between his ear and shoulder, leaving both his hands free to attend to the unconscious man on the floor. Not that he really knows what to do.
Technoblade strains his brain, half listening to the woman on the other and of the phone line, and half trying to remember the water safety course his college had forced him to take in his last year there. He remembers them saying something about checking if the patient's heart is still beating, either by looking for a pulse on their wrist, or their neck.
Alas, Techno tries both, only getting an ever so faint pulse in the wrist. Then he tries to check if Wilbur is breathing, by placing his own head gently next to his mouth and nose; only small, shallow breaths becoming audible. That's when he realises how weirdly blue Wilbur's lips are, blood having completely drained from his face, just leaving a pale, ghostly figure behind.
Okay, so maybe now Techno's starting to panic.
He reaches out and grabs the elder's shoulders with both hands, gruffly giving them a quick shake in an attempt to receive any sort of reply. Nothing. Technoblade squeezes his eyes shut and purses his lips, racking his brains for any more information he learnt on the course. Why can't he remember? He'd taken this course only a year ago, and for a a sole purpose. That purpose being to know how to save someone's goddamn life. He needs to remember.
Thankfully, the paramedics from the 999 call don't take long to arrive at the scene, running down the beach and flopping down next to Wilbur. Techno can only stand back and watch through steamy eyes and distressed whimpers.
The paramedics get to work straight away, bless them. They don't know how many lives they are saving, not only Wilbur's, but Techno's and Tommy's and Phil's and the hundreds of thousands of fans out there who love Wil to pieces. They'd hate to see him go like this. He couldn't go like this.
Wilbur's neck is being supported either side by one of the medics, whilst the others work together to get Wilbur rolled onto his side without moving his back or neck. They don't want to risk a severe spinal injury, especially after finding out from Techno that Wil also now has a head injury from smacking it on the sandbank; it could be fatal. A small, plastic tube is also shoved into Wilbur's mouth and down his throat, doing a number of things. It allows his airways to be cleared slightly more, and any sea water wanting to be thrown up can come out without risk of him choking on his own vomit. It also makes sure he can't choke on his own tongue, which is something fairly common that they definitely don't want happening.
Techno can see the salt water foaming at Wilbur's mouth, spilling out of the tube lodged in his throat, and pooling onto the sand. The younger can even see the whites of his rolled back eyes, bloodshot beneath his fluttering eyelids.
After the foaming has supressed, someone pulls the tube out of Wilbur's mouth, and another hastily replaces it with an oxygen pump, squeezing it every four seconds or so to try and get oxygen into his body, circulating and hopefully supressing his rapidly blue-ing lips.
"I've lost the pulse!"
Now, taking into consideration every single possible outcome of this situation, 'I've lost the pulse' is definitely the last thing that Technoblade wants to hear. Ever. For anyone. If he thinks the situation was bad, and stressful and just plainly distressing before, this is a whole other level.
Suddenly everyone's shouting at each other, working hard to get Wilbur's body back to life. One of the paramedics is performing CPR, counting sixty chest compressions before letting the person next to him take over.
It's been one hundred and twenty seconds since they've lost the pulse on the brunette's body.
Wilbur has been clinically dead for two minutes.
"CPR's not working! Get the defibrillator!"
Now, Technoblade's smart enough to know what a defibrillator was. Of course he's smart enough, they'd used them in practise training during his college course. But having seen one in all its glory before doesn't stop him from being completely taken aback when the paramedics use it on Wil. Using a defib on a living, (well, almost living) person is wayyyy different to using a fake one on a dummy. And Techno can tell you that first hand.
Another paramedic quickly drags over the machine, handing it to the man who seems to be in charge to take over. The straps are undone, and a towel is offered by a member of public to dry off Wilbur's chest before the pads are placed on.
"Stand back! Hands off the body! He's about to get shocked."
It's been two hundred and ten seconds since they've lost the pulse on Wilbur's body.
Wilbur has been clinically dead for three and a half minutes.
The body can't typically last longer than four to six minutes without a pulse.
So technically, Wilbur has two and a half minutes to live. Tops.
Nothing. The shock doesn't work.
Techno feels like breaking down in tears, curling up onto the floor and wishing that a huge black hole would come along and swallow him up. He doesn't want to be the one to tell the world that Wilbur has died under his vicinity.
The shouting starts again, this time another paramedic loading up the machine, getting ready for the shock.
Technoblade forces his head out of his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks. He doesn't often cry, but this is certainly an exception.
Wilbur's body is lying lifeless on the floor, pale and unmoving, surrounded by at least five to six paramedics, if not more. Between their huddled bodies, the younger can see Wil's hands moving slowly across his chest, erratic movements and fingers curled up together. His shoulders stick into the ground and his back is slightly arching. Techno knows what this is as well, the brunette was spasming, sudden involuntary muscular contractions which are common after the body has been shocked. But as deceiving as they look, they don't mean that Wilbur is awake, nor alive. Yet, anyway. Techno hopes.
"Hands off the body!"
It's been two hundred and ninety seconds since they've lost the pulse on Wilbur's body.
Wilbur has been clinically dead for four minutes and fifty seconds.
If the first, and second shocks don't work, then the third rarely does.
So technically, Wilbur has one minute and ten seconds to live, plus the rarity of the third shock working. Tops.
Nothing. Technoblade can't believe it.
He's convinced himself that he's lost Wilbur. He's lost his best friend due to that stupid ocean on a day that should have been fun, and enthralling, and relaxed. What's the ocean even used for anyway?
Even the paramedic team seem like they've started to give up, like they've lost all hope for survival; even for Wil. The Wil that's supposed to be alive at this very moment, joking and laughing his way through the day.
"Right. We'll try a third shock. But..." The chief paramedic quietens, and so do the others. He doesn't even have to finish his sentence for Technoblade to know what he was going to say. The assumption hangs in the air. He's given up himself anyway.
"Hands off the body!"
It's been three hundred and forty seconds since they've lost the pulse on Wilbur's body.
Wilbur has been clinically dead for five minutes and forty seconds.
The body can't typically last longer than four to six minutes without a pulse.
And if the first, and second shocks don't work, then the third rarely does.
So technically, Wilbur has twenty seconds to live, twenty small, minuscule seconds to live until he's gone. Tops.
'Third times' the charm?' Techno silently prays. He has to pull through.
'Detecting pulse'
The automated voice of the defibrillator rings out in the silent air, striking everyone with a spark of hopeful anticipation that certainly wasn't there before.
'Pulse detected. Perform CPR'
And suddenly, Wilbur is alive again.
The defib pads are ripped off from Wilbur's chest, replaced by a paramedic's hands, pushing down on his chest rhythmically. Another pair of hands work their way towards his neck, reaching to push down gently and receive a pulse.
"I've got a pulse!"
Techno gasps for air, releasing a breath he doesn't even know he was holding. They have a pulse. They have a pulse on a body that Techno was so sure to be lifeless less than thirty seconds ago, and now; they have a pulse.
The oxygen pump is immediately placed over Wilbur's mouth again, paramedic only pumping it a few more times before they find that Wilbur is capable enough of taking smaller, shallow, gasping breaths by himself. Nonetheless, for extra precaution they still place an oxygen mask over his head, adjusting it so the male can breathe easier. The brunette's hands are still spasming, falling across his chest with not particular pattern to them. Techno creeps closer, only kneeling down next to him after the paramedics check his pulse once more and clear some space.
"Oh Wilbur" Techno half laughs and half cries, wiping away his tears, relief so immense that he doesn't really know how to feel. Is he supposed to be relieved that Wil was breathing and alive, or frustrated with himself for not doing anything sooner? Or even angry at Wil for getting himself into this mess? Too many emotions, all at once. He only manages to have a brief moment with the still unconscious other before Techno finds himself being pushed further away from Wilbur, making way for the few paramedics who had left earlier, now coming down the beach with a stretcher-like bed in hand.
One of the paramedics carrying the stretcher down crouches beside Wil, lightly stroking his head in order to rouse him from his own little world he is currently in. It seems to do the trick though, and slowly Wilbur parts his eyelids, showing pale, bloodshot eyes underneath them. He's completely out of it.
"Heya, buddy. Just relax, okay? You've swallowed a lot of water, and you need to take it easy for me." The paramedic talks to him in a soft, kind voice. Wilbur closes his eyes again briefly, slowly and silently registering what the paramedic has said. As hard as it is it relax, Wilbur doesn't necessarily want to get up either. He's still a bit confused, and still feels sick to his stomach, and muscles feel completely incapable of moving. But at least he's alive.
However, he does reluctantly open them again, this time jolted back into reality by a sharp prick in the back of his hand. A temporary IV is slotted into his wrist, and Wilbur is placed in a neck brace, which, explained by Techno later, is to stop any possible spinal injuries he may have had when his head hit the sandbank. Apart from that, the rest is a blur. He vaguely remembers being hoisted up and onto the bed they'd supplied, being carried back up to the ambulance and the comforting grip of Technoblade's hand in his own on the ride to the hospital before getting there, where he blacks out completely.