Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy had always loved the ocean.

Ever since he was a little kid, he’d spend hours on end ducking under the baby waves over and over again, until his lips turned blue and his mum would yell for him to swim back to shore. When he fell asleep at night, he’d feel the waves pushing and pulling him in their gentle grasp. These phantom waves relaxed him, and Tommy never slept better than on the nights after a day at the beach.

It was only natural that at one point, he found his way onto a surfboard. His parents caved and let him get surf lessons for a birthday once, knowing it would make him happy and hopefully get his obsession with the ocean out of his system.

They didn’t expect him to be good at it.

Most of the time, Tommy was insanely grateful that he’d gotten an opportunity to surf as a kid, because his life would be insanely different now if he hadn’t. But in this one specific moment, he was really regretting asking for those lessons on his tenth birthday. Because for the love of fuck he hated fancy events like this.

The collar of his dress shirt itched, and Tommy tugged at it as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Music blasted from the speakers overhead, and all eyes were focused on the stage, waiting for the commercial break to end and the awards ceremony to resume. He stared absently at his half-full glass of water, silently cursing Tubbo for leaving him here bored and alone.

The thing was, Tommy didn’t even need to be here. This was an awards ceremony for the big wave surfers, which he certainly was not. Tubbo was the big wave surfer out of the two of them, while Tommy stuck to normal-sized waves since he had no desire to be stuck in a washing machine with a risk of smashing his head on a coral reef—no thank you.

But Tubbo had been nominated, and he asked Tommy to come with him. Again, Tommy didn’t have to go. Especially since Ranboo was already coming along, considering he’d been the one to take the video of Tubbo’s wave that got nominated. But Tommy was a good friend and an even better man. The Biggest of men, if you would. So he graciously agreed to go with Tubbo despite the fact that he couldn’t stand events like these.

And then Tubbo had to go and ditch him.

Nearly fifteen minutes ago, Tubbo had told Tommy he needed to go grab something from his car. Ranboo had gone with him, and they still weren’t back yet. At this rate, Tubbo was going to miss his own damn award. If he did end up winning it and he still wasn’t back, Tommy planned to accept it for him, solely so he could call Tubbo out during his acceptance speech.

The commercial break had just begun, and a few of the guests had gotten up to walk between the tables. Some had gone to the bathroom, while others were chatting amongst themselves. Almost all of them seemed to know one another, except for Tommy. Because, again, this wasn’t his crowd. He knew of a lot of the big wave surfers, but with the exception of Tubbo, he hadn’t personally interacted with almost any of them. After all, it’s not like he had any reason to go to big wave competitions.

(A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that he really didn’t know a lot of people in the regular professional surfing crowd either. That despite the fact that he’d gone pro when he was sixteen and was eighteen now, Tubbo and Ranboo were still two of the only friends he’d made through surfing, and they didn’t even go to the same competitions.)

(He chose to ignore the small voice.)

A drop of water slid down the side of his glass. Tommy watched it run, the babble of voices wrapping around his head and pounding against the inside of his skull. He was exhausted. That morning during training his board had slipped out underneath him, and he belly flopped into the water. Even hours later, he could still feel the phantom sting on his stomach.

“You don’t look like you’re having a very fun time.”

An unfamiliar voice behind him made him snort. Without looking up, Tommy shrugged. “I’ve been abandoned by my friend,” he explained, tapping his fingers against the table. “If he wins the damn award he’s nominated for, I’m definitely giving his acceptance speech for him so I can tell everyone what a bitch he is.”

The voice huffed. “Who’s your friend? I can tell you if you should start taking notes for that acceptance speech or not.”

“That’s a little presumptuous, innit?” Tommy asked, eyes still tracking the water droplet on his glass.

“Trust me, kid. If you’ve been to enough of these things, you get a good sense for the winning waves.”

Oh, so this guy was one of those types. A know it all.

“His name is Tubbo,” Tommy said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, he was nominated for biggest paddle over at Mullaghmore, right?” Tommy hummed an affirmative, and the guy let out a soft laugh. “You should probably start outlining your speech then.”

At this, Tommy finally tore his eyes away from the glass. “Well, do you have any pointers for what I should-” as his gaze fell on the man speaking to him, Tommy cut himself off, and for a very brief moment, he was completely convinced he was going to combust right then and there.

The man staring at him was on the younger side, but still quite a bit older than Tommy himself—somewhere in his mid-twenties. Dark brown eyes were scrunched up as they smiled down at Tommy, partially hidden by the glare reflecting off his gold-rimmed glasses. Even with the light though, Tommy immediately recognized the man standing above him.

“You- You’re Wilbur Soot,” Tommy stammered, gaping at his childhood hero.

Wilbur grinned. “You’ve heard of me?”

“Heard of you?” Tommy let out a breathless laugh. “You were, like, my favorite surfer when I was a kid! You’re the whole fucking reason I went pro in the first place!”

Holy shit. He was talking to Wilbur Soot. The Wilbur Soot. In his mind, Tommy flashed back to sitting on his living room couch at all of thirteen years old, studying every wave Wilbur caught and thinking of how to mimic his movements on the board. He cheered when Wilbur won competitions, and googled interviews to see what he said about his training regimen and things like it.

Tommy had wanted to be just like Wilbur Soot when he grew up.

“Holy shit, thanks man. That’s really nice to hear,” Wilbur said, still smiling. He blinked and his smile faded for a moment, something like recognition flashing through his eyes. “Wait, you’re Tommy Innit, aren’t you? The youngest surfer to rank in the top ten during the WSL championship tour?”

…no fucking way. Wilbur Soot knew who he was. Forget every bad thing he’d ever said about Tubbo, dragging him here was the best thing he’d ever done for Tommy.

“Uh, yeah. That’s- That’s me!” Tommy stammered out.

“Oh, you’re awesome, man. I watched the tour and was wondering where the hell you came from because you were just blowing everyone else right out of the fucking water,” Wilbur told him, tugging on the empty chair Tubbo had been sitting in earlier. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

Tommy, who was starting to wonder if he was hallucinating, nodded. “Go for it. Tubbo’s not using it right now.”

Huffing out another laugh, Wilbur sat down right next to Tommy, twisting around in the seat so they were facing each other. He stuck out a hand, and Tommy took it immediately, reeling at the fact that he was shaking hands with Wilbur Soot.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tommy Innit,” Wilbur said, emphasizing his name with a sharp grin.

“It’s, uh, great to meet you too, Wilbur,” Tommy echoed, blinking fast as they dropped their hands again. “Are you nominated tonight?”

Wilbur nodded, the movement making his hair fall over one of his eyes. “Sure am. Nominated for biggest tow, although I don’t think I’m gonna win.”

Tommy frowned. “Why not?”

“Like I said, you get a sense for this stuff after a while,” Wilbur shrugged, slumping back in his seat. “But I’m not particularly upset about that. The wave itself was worth it whether or not I get an award.”

“How big was it?” Tommy asked, shifting so he was completely facing Wilbur now.

“It was estimated to be around seventy-two feet,” Wilbur told him, the pride practically dripping from him. Not in a bragging way though. No, this pride was borne out of pure joy and thrill. “By Nazaré standards though that’s nothing. The waves there have been known to go over eighty-five feet.”

Nazaré. Tommy was familiar with the town name, but only vaguely. He knew it was located in Portugal, and was one of the most extreme spots for big wave surfing in the world. This was because Tubbo had been invited to go there a few times, but always refused because he was, in his own words, ”not insane enough for that kind of place.”

He supposed it made sense that Wilbur was surfing in Nazaré though. After dominating the normal surf competition circuit for years, just as Tommy was making his own professional debut, Wilbur had a bad accident. He disappeared off the face of the Earth for a year, and when he came back, he exclusively did big wave surfing and never looked back. When asked why, the only explanation he’d give was that he didn’t find normal surfing ‘exciting enough’ anymore.

Tommy always wondered if that was true, or if there was more to it than that.

Just then, the lights in the room dimmed, signaling that the commercial break was going to be over soon. Wilbur glanced up at the ceiling, before flashing Tommy a regretful smile.

“I should probably head back to my table,” he said, getting up from his seat.

Shoving down his disappointment, Tommy offered a hand to shake. “It was fucking awesome meeting you, man.”

“Great meeting you too,” Wilbur said, shaking his hand before straightening back up to his full height. He turned to leave, but paused, eyes flickering between his own table and Tommy’s.

A second passed. Then another.

“Hang on.” Wilbur dug into his pocket for something, and before Tommy could ask what he was doing, he took out his phone and held it out. “Here, put your number in my phone.”

Tommy blinked. “What?”

“I dunno if I’ll be able to find you after the awards end, so give me your number now,” Wilbur said, the lights dimming more. “Hurry!”

What the- why the fuck would Wilbur want his number?

While Tommy wanted to ask, Wilbur was crouching down to avoid the cameras as the host prepared to climb back up on the stage. Tommy took the offered phone, hastily typing in his number and then hesitating for a moment before typing in his name. Then, he pressed ‘save contact’ and handed the phone back to Wilbur.

“Thanks man,” Wilbur whispered, grinning at him. “Good luck with that acceptance speech.”

And with that, Wilbur was running back to his own table, back hunched to try and stay out of view. It didn’t really work considering he was way too fucking tall, but it was a good effort, and Tommy watched him practically fall back into his chair next to a girl with hair the color of cotton candy. If he remembered correctly, he was pretty sure she was another surf photographer like Ranboo, even though he didn’t have the slightest clue what her name was.

Right as Wilbur sat down, the host began speaking to the cameras once more, meaning they were live again. However, the host’s words went in one ear, and right out the other for Tommy. He was still reeling from the interaction that had just happened, eyes darting towards Wilbur’s table every few seconds just to confirm that the man was there. That he was real and not just some hallucination Tommy made up.

The phone in his pocket suddenly buzzed. As subtly as he could, he took it out and glanced at the screen, breath hitching when he saw the message notification.

It was from a number he didn’t have saved.

Unknown: Why the fuck did you put your name as Wife Man in my phone

He glanced up at Wilbur’s table again, and met eyes with Wilbur Soot across the room. He laughed under his breath, before looking back down at his phone.

Tommy: because i have many many adoring wives wtf else would it mean??

Wilbur: And yet you still ended up alone at the awards show

Wilbur: Also you might wanna focus on the stage you’re gonna need your speech ready

At that, Tommy looked up at the stage, and stiffened when he noticed they were announcing the nominees for Tubbo’s award. Shit. He didn’t actually want to accept Tubbo’s award for him. But the clip of Tubbo’s wave was already playing and they were going to announce the winner any second now but he still wasn’t here-

“Oh thank fucking god,” someone whispered behind him.

Turning around, Tommy gaped as Tubbo slid back into his seat, his face bright red and chest heaving like he’d been running. On the other side of Tubbo, Ranboo had also returned, looking just as harried.

“Where the fuck were you?!” Tommy hissed under his breath, slapping Tubbo’s arm. “I was panicking thinking I’d have to go and accept your goddamn award for you!”

“We got locked out!” Tubbo whispered back.

“How did you get locked out?”

“You think I fucking know? The doors just locked behind us and I had to spend, like, ten minutes trying to convince the security guard I was part of the ceremony! He watched my goddamn Wired interview on his phone while we were just standing there!”

For as panicked as Tommy had been, and how equally as panicked Tubbo seemed to be, it was also hard not to laugh as Tubbo explained what happened. Because of course that would happen to Tubbo.

Suddenly, Tommy’s focus was pulled back to the stage by the presenter’s booming voice echoing over the room.

“And the winner for Biggest Paddle of 2022 is…” the presenter trailed off, taking a moment to break the seal on the letter. “Tubbo!”

Tubbo gaped as all eyes in the room turned to their table. Tommy had to press a hand to his mouth to keep from laughing at how visibly unprepared he was, and patted his shoulder when he stumbled out of his chair. As Tubbo made his way up to the stage, his wave was playing on the big screens on the wall, a line of white text above the clip reading, Video by Ranboo Beloved.

Holy shit. Wilbur was right. Tubbo won.

The lights were blinding as Tubbo made his way to the microphone, blinking fast like he was struggling to see. Once he adjusted the microphone to his height, he let out an awkward laugh, the sound of his voice echoing over the room.

“Uh, I wasn’t- well, I wasn’t really expecting this,” Tubbo said, messing with the microphone a bit more as he spoke. “Gonna be honest, I’ve literally been locked out of the building for the past twenty minutes and only got back to my seat, like, two minutes ago.”

The audience laughed at that, and Tubbo grinned, the tension visibly leaving his shoulders. The rest of his speech was surprisingly good for how unprepared he was, with Ranboo waving at the cameras when Tubbo thanked him for being his cameraman, and then Tommy shrinking back when Tubbo called him out to thank him for coming with him as moral support.

And just like that, Tubbo was walking to his seat again, and the host moved on to announce the next category. When Tubbo sat back down though, Tommy reached over, slinging an arm around his best friend’s shoulders to give him a side hug.

“You won! That’s insane, man!” Tommy whispered to him.

“I literally blacked out the second I got on stage,” Tubbo admitted, giggling nervously. “Did I do good?”

“Well, you didn’t mention how I’m the greatest man to ever live and you learned all your secrets from me, but it was still pretty good I’d say,” Tommy teased.

“Oh shut the fuck up-”

“And now onto our next category!” The next presenter declared, holding up another sealed envelope. “For Biggest Tow-In of 2022, our nominees are…” The graphics on the screen behind her changed, and Tommy straightened to attention, not wanting to miss Wilbur’s clip.

“Hannah, in Nazaré, Leiria, Portugal,” was the first nomination announced. The clip played, showing a massive wall of water and a tiny surfer dropping down the front of it like she was jumping off a building. She had shocking control for such a sharp incline, the white water shrouding her for a moment before she reappeared at the end of the wave, fist pumping with obvious joy.

“Dream, in Nazaré, Leiria, Portugal.” The next nomination showed a similar scene: insane wall of water, tiny surfer flying down it at what had to be a breakneck speed. This guy did a flip to kick out of the wave once he reached the end of it, a few people in the audience letting out scattered cheers at the move.

“Technoblade, in Nazaré, Leiria, Portugal.” Now Tommy knew who this was. Anyone who knew anything about surfing knew the name Technoblade, because he was widely considered to be one of the greatest surfers of all time. His bright pink hair flared out behind him as he raced down the wave, his control so refined, he didn’t falter once as he sped through the white water.

“Sapnap, in Nazaré, Leiria, Portugal.” Another unfamiliar name, but Tommy noticed this guy’s style was similar to the Dream guy with how they both seemed more inclined to doing tricks, even if it meant risking their control on the wave itself.

“And last but certainly not least,” the presenter said, a new clip switching on the screen, “Wilbur, in Nazaré, Leiria, Portugal.”

The wave Wilbur was riding in the clip they played was insane. It was probably the same size as the one Techno had ridden, but unlike Techno who had done his ride with perfect control and no wobbling, Wilbur was all over the place as he sped under the crest. However, it didn’t look like he was struggling. Sure, he lacked the control Techno had, and didn’t have the speed of Hannah or the flair of Dream and Sapnap, but it was obvious to anyone watching the clip that he was having fun. He was carving up and down the wave, and while the white water did end up crashing over his head, he just barely managed to make it with his hands in the air.

Those waves looked nothing short of terrifying to Tommy. But the longer he watched the mountains of water crash down, the stronger the buzz inside his chest got. There was something… exhilarating about it. Picturing himself dropping down a sheer cliff of water, picking up more and more speed as he raced against the eventual fall of the crest.

Watching those clips, Tommy was starting to understand why big wave surfers did what they did. But it still seemed scary as hell nonetheless.

Tommy also noticed how every single location for the tow-in nominees was Nazaré. The nominations for biggest paddle had been far more varied—like Tubbo in Mullaghmore, someone else at Mavericks, another person at Pe’ahi—which was how these nominations usually went. It was just another testament to how Nazaré had some of the largest waves on the planet, even when compared to the other most popular big wave surfing spots.

“And the winner is…” the presenter declared, snapping open the envelope. “Technoblade!”

From Wilbur’s table, the pink-haired man himself stood up, and Tommy blinked because he hadn’t noticed him until just then. Wilbur was cheering with a blinding smile, not looking the least bit disappointed that he didn’t win the award. On the screens, Techno’s clip replayed, and Tommy noticed the Video by Philza Soot written above it.

Huh. Soot. Was the cameraman related to Wilbur?

The rest of the awards ceremony went by quickly. After Techno gave a short speech that mostly consisted of him cracking a few jokes, there was another commercial break that Tommy spent listening to Tubbo and Ranboo both recount in far more detail their struggle to get back in the building after they left. Then, the final award—Ride of the Year—was presented, although Tommy didn’t know any of the surfers nominated. (Though Tommy did recognize the name of the winner, Hannah, given that she had also been nominated for biggest tow-in).

And then Tommy went back to his hotel. He and Tubbo weren’t scheduled to fly back to England till the next day, and neither one of them or Ranboo was old enough to drink in the States so it’s not like they could join the other big wave surfers Tubbo knew in their celebrations.

That night, Tommy found himself laying in his hotel bed, scrolling through his phone and searching up more clips of Nazaré surfing on Youtube. He wasn’t sure why he kept watching the clips, but there was something entrancing about them. The churning grey water, the surfer looking so small against the size of a wave that could be up to eight stories tall—it gave almost the same effect as when you saw an accident on the side of a motorway. It was terrible, but you also couldn’t look away.

Then, Tommy’s attention was torn away from the wave by a notification at the top of his screen.

Wilbur: Little disappointed you didn’t have to give a speech

Wilbur: I was looking forward to what you were gonna say

Once again, Tommy’s heart leapt into his throat seeing that Wilbur was texting him. Even though he’d had a few hours to process it, it still didn’t feel real that the same Wilbur Soot he’d grown up watching had his number now.

Tommy: I think I would’ve gotten kicked off stage when I called tubbo a bitch boy live on air

Wilbur: And that would’ve been fucking hilarious

Tommy: too bad my comedic genius will stay unappreciated for now

Tommy: sorry you didn’t win btw

Wilbur: It’s fine

Wilbur: Like I said, the wave itself was more than worth it

Tommy: the clip was insane man

Tommy: i would’ve wiped the fuck out on that thing in seconds

Wilbur: Nah you wouldn’t have

Wilbur: I’ve seen some of your competitions and if you wanted to try out big waves you totally could

Wilbur: You have the control

Tommy blinked at his screen. Even if Wilbur seemed to think he could, Tommy wasn’t sure he would be able to survive on a wave like that. He was used to doing aerials and different types of flips off the lips of small waves, not flying down walls of water at top speed.

But even still, something like pride swelled in his chest seeing that Wilbur thought he’d be able to do it.

Tommy: oh

Tommy: thanks

Wilbur: Just saying what I think

Wilbur: Ok im being handed a vodka shot and told to get off my phone

Wilbur: gtg

Tommy: have fun lmao

On that note, Tommy figured it was time to get off his phone and go to sleep. After plugging his phone into the charger, Tommy settled himself under his blankets, and let his eyes flutter shut.

The pride was still there, sitting behind his ribs as he pictured himself riding the massive waves of Nazaré. It’s not something he ever thought about doing, but as he drifted off into sleep, he couldn’t help but wonder… what if?

That night, he dreamt of massive waves crashing down around him.

After the awards ceremony, Tommy didn’t see Wilbur for another month. But just because he didn’t see him didn’t mean they weren’t talking.

Tommy thought that Wilbur asking for his number was going to lead to one, maybe two text conversations between them before the man forgot his existence. But that wasn’t the case at all. During the day, Tommy spent his time either messing around in the water off the coast of Brighton, or occasionally making the journey to Cornwall to practice with some better waves. It was what he usually did in the off season. Kept himself in shape, but didn’t need to adhere to a strict training schedule. When he was in Cornwall, he also usually wound up sitting on the rocky slopes of the Cribbar, watching Tubbo fuck around on the much bigger waves there.

It was familiar. Maybe a bit quiet, but familiar.

(He ignored the fact that he was starting to dread his training days. He ignored that every time he snapped the nose of his board over the lip of a wave, he could only think about how these were the same moves he’d done for years now. He ignored the dread that curled itself around the base of his spine, making his heart leap into his throat every time he remembered that this was it. These waves and these moves and these days were going to be how it was for the rest of his career.)

But outside of the normal routine, Tommy was also checking his phone far more often than usual. Because it turned out, Wilbur liked to talk. About everything and anything.

Wilbur: did you know sunfish are the most useless fucking animal in the sea

Wilbur: they’re fucking idiots

Wilbur: like giant goddamn dinner plates

Tommy: what do you got against sunfish man?? I think they’re kinda cute

Wilbur: dumbasses

Wilbur: nearly swam straight into one one time

Besides his strong opinions about fish, Tommy also learned that Wilbur had a lot of random knowledge.

Wilbur: Have you ever tried to extract the caffeine from coffee

Tommy: no??

Wilbur: It’s not that hard

Wilbur: I’ve done it before you need a solvent

Wilbur: Pure caffeine is kind of terrifying but also great for waking you up

Tommy: wilbur they sell caffeine powder online

Wilbur: what

Tommy: yeah??? Did you not know that?

Wilbur: brb

Tommy: I feel like I shouldn’t have told you that

Wilbur: No it’s fine this is great

And as time went on, Tommy found himself a bit less starstruck by Wilbur as the realization set in that Wilbur was really not that cool. If anything, he was a bit of a nerd.

Wilbur: Did you know that the first recorded instance of a dog surfing was in the 1920s

Wilbur: the dog's name was Night Hawk

Wilbur: I wanna know who the fuck looked at a dog and was like yeah he can get on the surfboard with me

Tommy: excuse you dogs are great at surfing have you seen them

Wilbur: I’m not saying they aren’t!!

Wilbur: They’re amazing and I love every single one

Wilbur: I’m just trying to understand the thought process there

Wilbur: Also did you know that Mavericks was named after a dog

Tommy: no?

Wilbur: Yeah back in the 60s these guys tried surfing there which most people didn’t do since the waves were too big

Wilbur: One of them brought his dog Maverick

Wilbur: They left Maverick on the shore but he swam out to join them

Wilbur: The waves were too big for him to be safe though so they brought him back and had to tie him to a tree to keep him from running out into the ocean again

Wilbur: They named the place Mavericks since Maverick seemed to have the most fun

Tommy: honestly that's the best reason to name a place

Tommy: your dog had fun?? Fuck yeah the place is now named after the dog

Tommy: also why do you know this stuff you know so many random facts about shit

Wilbur: I like history man what can I say

Tommy: you’re a fucking nerd

Wilbur: Oh fuck off I thought I was the reason you started surfing in the first place

Tommy: mmm nope don’t remember saying that

Wilbur: You’re such a liar!!

Tommy: nah my favorite surfer could never be someone as lame as you

Wilbur: You’re a little shit

Tommy: i’m a delight

Wilbur: You’re literally trying to gaslight me

Tommy: gaslighting?? That’s not a real word wilbur i think you’re making things up

Wilbur: I swear to fucking god

Even though every once in a while, Tommy would take a mental step back to remember that he was texting The Wilbur Soot, it started happening less and less. Talking to Wilbur was less about texting Wilbur Soot, and more just like sending a message to his friend, Wil.

It was a strange shift to his life, but it also didn’t feel that out of place at all. Because somehow, Wilbur and him just… clicked. Tommy couldn’t remember the last time he’d hit it off that quickly with anyone, but it happened with Wilbur of all people.

One day, three weeks after the awards event, Tommy found himself once again sitting against the rocks of the Cribbar, staring out into an icy, grey sea where the distant figures of Tubbo and Ranboo were mere specks in the water. Tubbo was paddling for a wave, and Tommy could just barely see Ranboo treading water off to the side, his camera in hand and at the ready.

The wave built and built, Tubbo rising up the slope to the top of the crest. Then, he hopped up onto his board and dropped down the face of it, carving a line of white behind him as he ducked into the barrel of the wave. Unfortunately, the wave immediately broke as soon as Tubbo disappeared into the barrel, and Tommy let out a hiss of sympathy when he saw Tubbo resurface a few moments later, after no doubt having been slammed a bit by the wave he’d been riding.

A chilly breeze blew over the shore, and Tommy wrapped his jacket tighter around himself. It was barely October, but Cornwall—and most of England for that matter—seemed determined to behave like summer was something far in the past. A shock of icy sea spray made Tommy jump when a wave broke right next to the cliff slope, and he grumbled under his breath as he tugged his hoodie over his head, tying the drawstrings as tight as he could to mitigate the risk of getting even more damp than he already was.

The air was thick with the smell of sea salt. The blanket Tommy was sitting on was itchy under his palms, and barely did anything to block out the sharp rocks jabbing him in the ass where he was sitting. But despite his discomfort, he didn’t even consider getting up to wait inside the nearby bar for Tubbo and Ranboo to come back in.

That was mostly because even though Tubbo had been surfing here for years now, it was still always a good idea to have someone waiting on the shore in case an emergency happened. But it was also because Tommy knew Tubbo and Ranboo would do the same for him. Hell, they already had. During his own competition seasons, they had spent countless hours on the beaches of California or Hawai’i watching him practice aerial after aerial, solely to keep him company while he trained.

Another breeze blew past him, and Tommy shivered as he pulled his knees up to his chest. He wasn’t going to leave, but damn, he really hoped Tubbo called it quits soon.

Right as Tubbo was paddling out for another wave, Tommy felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Had to be Wilbur. He could just tell.

Sure enough, the notification on his screen blared out the name, ‘Wilbur Soot.’

Wilbur: Tommy you’re not in the competition circuit rn right??

Tommy: Uhh not atm

Tommy: my seasons basically ended

Wilbur: So you have some free time then?

Tommy: I guess you could say that??

Wilbur: What are you doing rn

Instead of typing a response, Tommy switched to his camera to take a distant picture of Tubbo riding the next wave. It was going much better than the last one, and Tommy grinned as he watched Tubbo reemerge from the white water.

Tommy: [image.jpg]

Tommy: i have front row tickets to watching tubbo surf at the cribbar

Tommy: these seats are shit tho my ass hurts from the rocks

Wilbur: While I wouldn’t want to pull you away from something as riveting as watching your friend surf in Cornwall while you learn how to manage the pain of sitting on rocks

Wilbur: I have a proposal for you

Furrowing his brows, Tommy shielded his phone from the sea spray with his hand when another wave slammed against the slope. Then, once it was clear, he typed out his reply.

Tommy: ok shoot

Wilbur: Well, Portugal isn’t that long of a plane ride from England

Wilbur: Would you wanna come visit Nazaré for a few days?

Wilbur: I just got settled back in to get ready for the winter season

Wilbur: I practically live here from october to february so I know the place pretty well

Wilbur: I could show you around, give you the grand tour and all that jazz?

Wilbur: Plus, you gotta see the waves here in person at some point in your life

Wilbur… Wilbur was inviting him to hang out in Nazaré?

It was one thing to text the man that had been his childhood idol. But there was a whole other level that came with actually hanging out with him for more than a five minute conversation at an awards ceremony. Let alone flying to a different country to do so.

But even ignoring the way his twelve year old self was screaming internally, Tommy quickly realized he wanted to go. Not because Wilbur was Wilbur Soot, but because Wilbur was Wil. His friend. And he wanted a chance to get to know his friend in person, and not just through a phone screen.

Tommy: yes yes yes oh fuck yeah

Tommy: tell me when to fly out and I’ll book it rn

There was a pause. Tommy noticed the little bubbles pop up, showing that Wilbur was typing, only for him to stop and the bubbles to disappear.

After a few seconds, they reappeared again. Then, the message was sent.

Wilbur: Can you fly out tomorrow?

The next day, Tommy found himself in Portugal.

It had all gone by so fast. One moment, he was texting Wilbur. The next thing he knew, he was booking a plane ticket and waving Tubbo and Ranboo back to the shore so he could tell them he had to go pack.

Now he was in Nazaré. He caught a taxi from the airport to the hotel he’d booked the day before, and texted Wilbur on the way to let him know he’d arrived. After checking in and dropping his stuff off in his hotel room, Wilbur had texted him that he was in the hotel lobby, and Tommy hurried to grab his stuff before rushing back down to meet him.

Tommy tapped his foot against the tile floor of the elevator, watching the floor numbers drop and trying to shove down the nerves buzzing under his skin. He thought he would’ve been past the nervousness to meet Wilbur, considering this was going to be his second time seeing him in person, but clearly no one told his anxiety that.

But besides the nervousness, there was also excitement. He had no idea what Wilbur had planned for him, but he was more than hopeful. They were friends now. Tommy was going to get to spend a few days in a new town with a new friend, and probably see some really insane waves while he was at it.

The elevator dinged, telling Tommy he had made it to the lobby. Swallowing down the anxiety crawling up his throat, Tommy out, eyes darting around in search of a tall head of curly brown hair.

It only took a few seconds to spot him. There was a sitting area in the lobby across from the front desk, and Wilbur was leaning against one of the couches, shoulders hunched as he scrolled through his phone. At the awards ceremony, he’d been wearing a suit, but today he was dressed in a brightly-colored sweater with a thick corduroy jacket on top, and even from a distance, Tommy could see there was tape holding his glasses together.

“Wil!”

Glancing up, Wilbur’s face spread into a wide grin when he spotted Tommy.

“Tommy!”

Pocketing his phone, Wilbur straightened up to meet Tommy halfway. Then, before Tommy even realized what he was doing, Wilbur was opening his arms up and wrapping Tommy in a hug.

“It’s so good to see you, man!” Wilbur said, squeezing his shoulders.

His brain short-circuited for a moment, but then Tommy’s faculties came back to him, and he quickly hugged Wilbur back. Then, just as fast, Wilbur was pulling away, and Tommy wrapped his arms around himself as they stepped back to be face to face.

“How was your flight?” Wilbur asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“It was fine. Not too long or anything,” Tommy shrugged, dragging a hand through his hair to push the curls out of his face. “How’ve you been though?”

Wilbur huffed, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “I’ve been fine. Went out in the water off Praia do Norte yesterday for the first time in months, since I don’t really come to Nazaré unless it’s winter.”

“Did you catch any waves?” Tommy asked, eyes widening.

“Nah,” Wilbur shook his head. “I was just riding around on a jet ski, getting an idea for what the surf is like. The full winter swells aren’t here yet, but they’re getting there.”

“When are the waves usually at their biggest?”

“Anytime between October and March, but usually I’ve seen the biggest swells hit sometime between December and February,” Wilbur explained. “Enough of that though. Are you hungry?”

Tommy blinked, having forgotten about his growling stomach while trying to get to the hotel from the airport. “Oh, definitely.”

Wilbur grinned. “Let’s go get some food. I know a great place.”

With that, Wilbur led Tommy out of the hotel and onto the streets. His sneakers smacked against the cobblestone walkways, a cool sea breeze was blowing between the buildings and bringing with it the smell of salt, and Wilbur was excitedly telling Tommy random history facts about the town as they walked.

Puffy white clouds dotted the sky, and in the distance, Tommy could hear the roar of the waves. The road sloped down the closer to the coast they got, and Tommy kept his head up, hoping to get a glimpse of the ocean despite how far they were still from the beach.

Unfortunately, they didn’t get within viewing distance of the beach before Wilbur was tugging them into a random restaurant. He exchanged a few words with the hostess in Portuguese, before she was leading them to sit at a table near the window.

The entire menu was in Portuguese. Tommy didn’t have the slightest clue how to read any of it, so he just told Wilbur to order for him, trusting his opinion on the food here. Wilbur lit up at this, and immediately waved down a waiter to tell him what they wanted, pointing at the menu while he spoke.

With a nod and a smile, the waiter hurried off to put in their order. Once he was gone, Tommy turned back to Wilbur, raising an eyebrow.

“You speak Portuguese?”

“I’ve been coming here for a few years now, so I’ve tried to study it when I can,” Wilbur said, taking a sip of the water he’d ordered when they first sat down. “I’m not very good though. My accent is terrible.”

“Sounded pretty good to me,” Tommy said with a shrug.

Wilbur huffed. “Yeah, because you don’t know Portuguese.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and took a sip of his own water. His eyes darted around the restaurant, noticing that it was almost empty at this time of day. He supposed that made sense since it was a little too early for dinner, but a bit late for lunch.

“So is Nazaré your favorite place to surf?” Tommy asked after a minute of silence, running his fingers along the edge of his glass.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Wilbur nodded, folding his hands together on the table. “I love the town for one thing. The food is great, the people are so kind, and the surf industry is huge here. And obviously the waves are pretty damn great too.”

Tommy nodded, furrowing his brows. “When did you even get into big wave surfing? I feel like one day you just disappeared from the normal competitions, and I didn’t hear about you again till you were surfing seventy foot waves out here,” Tommy asked, wrapping his hands fully around his water glass.

Wilbur snorted at this. “That’s, um, a bit of a complicated story that I’m not gonna get into right now. But in a nutshell, I visited here once on a whim and after I saw the waves I just… I knew I had to try and surf them. I’d never done big wave surfing before in my life, and Techno thought I was fucking insane for wanting to learn how to do it in Nazaré of all places. He and Phil and Niki kept trying to get me to go to Cornwall or something, but I wanted to learn here. So Techno taught me, and I’ve been hooked ever since.”

Damn. Learning how to surf big waves here of all places? That was intense.

Before Tommy could think of what to say to that, the waiter came back over, carrying a large bowl of steaming clams drenched in butter and garlic. Wilbur thanked the waiter as he set down the bowl in front of them, and Tommy’s stomach growled again at the sight.

“Holy shit,” Tommy muttered.

“Dig in, man. This place has some of the best clams I’ve ever tried,” Wilbur said, gesturing for Tommy to start eating.

And while there were more questions buzzing around Tommy’s head—like why Wilbur had switched to surfing big waves in the first place, why he was so fixated on Nazaré, why he had wanted Tommy to come out here to visit—he figured those could all wait. He was starving, and the food wasn’t going to eat itself.

The meal was delicious. Wilbur had also ordered some kind of grilled fish for them both which came out after they had polished off the clams. Everything was perfectly salted, buttered, and grilled just the right amount. The fish was juicy but not too overpowering, the clams were tangy and sweet, and maybe Tommy had just been really hungry, but he was convinced that was the best seafood he’d ever had in his life.

He and Wilbur didn’t talk much while they ate. They mostly talked about how good the food was, especially compared to some of the places they’d both been back in England. Tommy was surprised to find out Wilbur had a place in Brighton when he wasn’t in Nazaré, and the two ended up talking about their favorite restaurants back home over their meal.

It wasn’t long before they paid for the food and were back on the streets. The sky was lit up in shades of red and pink, flames stretching out across the horizon as the sun made its descent towards the water.

Wilbur led him down the sloped cobblestone roads, not telling him where they were going next and just insisting Tommy move faster every time he fell behind. The salt in the air grew thicker as they got closer to the shore, and Tommy’s eyes widened when he saw they were heading towards a small lighthouse nestled on a cliff facing out towards the water.

There were a lot of people hanging around at the lighthouse, phones out to take pictures of the gorgeous sunset. The ocean breeze ruffled Tommy’s hair and sent a chill down his spine as he followed Wilbur to the edge of the lighthouse, and when Wilbur finally settled himself on the stone fence that lined the platform the lighthouse was on, Tommy looked out towards the ocean and gasped.

The waves were unreal. And not in the way some people would say unreal just to mean cool or insane, but unreal as in Tommy was struggling to process that he wasn’t staring at a movie screen.

Massive walls of churning water slammed down on one another, the greyish brown water turned a pale shade of orange by the setting sun. Droplets of saltwater splattered across his face as the waves broke against dark brown rock formations that sat at the base of the lighthouse, but Tommy didn’t even notice as he watched the behemoth waves crash onto each other over and over again.

There was no direction to them. Unlike most shores where the waves all went the same direction and broke in a single line, these waves kept rising and falling in all different directions. They would collide in huge sprays of white water, the droplets turning to liquid gold in the dying sunlight.

“Holy shit,” Tommy whispered.

“I know,” Wilbur agreed, his voice soft as he stared out at the water. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

It was. It was beautiful and terrifying and so so different to see in person compared to the lens of a video camera. Every time a wave broke, his breathing hitched at the pure power he could see driving it. The waves at the Cribbar were impressive, but not like this. It wasn’t alive like these waves were.

There was shifting beside him, and Tommy felt more than saw Wilbur get up so they were standing shoulder to shoulder.

“Tommy, I need to make a confession,” Wilbur said, folding his arms over his chest.

Tearing his gaze away from the waves, Tommy looked up at Wilbur, and saw his face was bathed in gold light from the sun. “What is it?”

“I didn’t just ask you to come here to hang out, although if that’s all you want to do, that’s perfectly fine,” Wilbur told him, keeping his own eyes fixed on the water. “But the reason I asked you here is… well, you remind me a lot of myself. Back when I was surfing in the same competitions you do now.”

Tommy’s breathing hitched at Wilbur saying Tommy was like him, but stayed quiet, waiting for Wilbur to go on.

“You just- You have this energy. This passion that not a lot of other people do,” Wilbur continued. “That passion makes you stand out from the others. It’s why you were the youngest surfer to rank in the top ten this year. It’s your drive, and it’s also your talent.”

“I… Thank you, that’s- I mean that’s really nice of you to say but I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me here,” Tommy said, squinting against the harsh light of the sun.

“I’m saying that you have a shit ton of potential, but you’re going to get bored with the normal circuits sooner or later. You’re going to want more, but there’s a limit to how far you can go with the kind of surfing you do.” He paused, and finally turned away from the water to meet Tommy’s eyes. “You see those waves out there?” He asked, pointing out at the ocean.

Tommy nodded, wincing when another huge monster of a wave crashed down into sea foam.

“I meant what I said when I told you you could surf here and be great at it,” Wilbur said, dropping his hand again. “You would thrive here, Tommy. I just know you would.”

Suddenly, Tommy’s eyes widened as he realized what Wilbur was saying.

“Are you asking me if I want to try surfing big waves here?” Tommy asked, frowning at Wilbur.

Wilbur nodded. “I can teach you.”

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

Wilbur… Wilbur wanted to teach Tommy how to surf at Nazaré. Wilbur wanted to be Tommy’s teacher.

Tommy glanced out at the water again, his chest buzzing as he stared at the gold light rippling over the white water.

“But why?” Tommy asked, his shoulders hunching. “Why would you want to waste your time just teaching some random kid when you could be, I dunno, catching your own waves? Getting sponsorships and all that shit?”

Snorting, Wilbur’s eyes flickered back to the water. “I’m not really doing this for the fame and glory or whatever the hell anymore. I’ve already done that. But I guess… I dunno, the crowd around here is getting a bit too familiar. It’s fun to get some fresh faces every now and again.” Then, he smiled at Tommy. “Plus, I’d hate to see you get burnt out surfing the same small waves off the coast of Newquay at Fistral Beach or something. Not when you have so much potential.”

Blinking, Tommy wrapped his arms tighter around himself.

This was real. Wilbur was offering to be his teacher. Tommy could learn how to surf some of the most insane waves in the world. Something he’d never had any interest in doing until now.

The waves continued to crash out past the cliff. Tommy watched the monster wave swell once more, slamming down with the kind of force that could crack someone’s skull open. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew how dangerous surfing those kinds of waves could be. Tubbo had certainly had his fair share of accidents over the years, and he had never even tried to surf waves as big as the ones Tommy was looking at right then.

But despite the fear lingering in his bones, there was a buzzing sort of excitement under his skin. It lit up his veins and ballooned in his chest like the sun. Just imagining the kind of speed and power he could get flying down one of those waves, the rush he would get from it all… it was addicting, and he hadn’t even set foot in the water yet.

“You don’t have to do it,” Wilbur added after a few moments of silence. “This isn’t something to take lightly, and I won’t judge you at all if you decide it’s not for you.”

Tommy thought about saying no. About telling Wilbur he was sorry but it just wasn’t his style. He’d probably stay in Nazaré a few more days sightseeing with his friend, and then he’d go back to England and continue training for the next competition season. He’d talk to Wilbur over the phone, he’d go back to watching Tubbo catch his own waves and helping Ranboo with his photography, and he’d find himself doing the same tricks on the same waves he’d been surfing for years now.

It was comfortable. Familiar.

The dread that was still settled on his shoulders curled tighter around him, and that was what sparked his decision.

“I’ll do it,” Tommy said, making the decision in a split second. “I want to learn.”

More sea spray flew up from the rocks, icy droplets littering Tommy’s face as he stared out at the water. Suddenly, there was a warm hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently as Tommy grinned.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Wilbur said.

And when Tommy glanced back at him, he saw Wilbur was smiling too.

Chapter Text

After agreeing to let Wilbur teach him how to surf at Nazaré, Tommy wasn’t sure how long it would be until he got in the water.

He really wasn’t expecting his lessons to start the very next day.

That morning, Tommy woke up in his hotel room to Wilbur calling him and telling him to be ready in an hour. It was only after stumbling to the bathroom and splashing water on his face that Tommy realized it wasn’t even eight in the morning, and cursed Wilbur under his breath for getting him up so early.

Once he had showered and gotten dressed, it was just about time for Wilbur to show up. Tommy wasn’t sure what he needed to bring, so he tossed his wetsuit in a bag and hoped that was good enough.

By the time he got down to the lobby, Wilbur was already waiting there once again. His eyes lit up when he spotted Tommy stumbling out of the elevator.

“You look cheery this morning,” Wilbur said as Tommy walked up to him, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

Tommy grumbled as he smacked Wilbur’s hand away. “Didn’t know I was gonna have to get up at ass o’clock this morning.”

“You’re literally a professional surfer. You should be used to getting up early,” Wilbur teased as he headed for the doors.

“I can get up early if I know ahead of time,” Tommy huffed, following Wilbur out of the hotel. “I didn’t even know we were gonna start training today.”

“Well, truth be told, I wasn’t planning on starting things for another few days. But I checked the weather, and there’s a small swell coming at the end of the week. It’s not going to be the massive eighty-footers or anything, but there’s definitely gonna be a lot hitting between thirty to forty feet.”

Tommy’s eyes widened. “You think I’ll be able to surf a forty foot wave that soon?”

Their shoes clicked against the cobblestones as Wilbur led them down the sloping road. “You could be. It’s up to you though. If you don’t feel ready then, that’s fine, we’ll wait for another swell.”

Well, that made Tommy feel a little better at the very least.

They continued walking, darting between a few narrow side streets before Wilbur gestured for Tommy to go into some kind of breakfast cafe. The place was small, the walls painted sunshine yellow and warm morning light spilling across the floor. Wilbur left Tommy at a table next to the window to go order, and after a few minutes, he came back holding two coffees.

“Our food will be out in a minute,” Wilbur said as he handed Tommy his drink.

Tommy gratefully accepted the coffee, taking a long sip and wincing when it burnt his tongue. The drink was more milk than actual coffee, but Tommy liked the taste, and ignored how hot it was to take another sip before setting it down.

“What’d you get me?” Tommy asked, wrapping his hands around his cup.

“Just a breakfast sandwich. Hope that’s alright.”

Humming, Tommy took another sip of his drink. “That’s fine.” He then set the cup down and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head and relishing in the sound of the joints cracking. When he straightened back up, he saw Wilbur giving him a horrified stare.

“What are you, a bowl of fucking rice krispies?” Wilbur asked, furrowing his brows.

Tommy snorted. “My bones are too powerful to be silent,” he declared, stretching out his arm across the table for Wilbur to see. “Listen to this.” He cracked his fingers, the loud popping sound that resulted making Wilbur jump in his seat.

“Fucking hell! That’s so loud!”

“Like I said. Powerful bones,” Tommy said, grinning at Wilbur.

After staring at Tommy for a minute in shock, Wilbur sighed and shook his head. “I guess it makes sense. You’re already one of the loudest people I’ve ever met.”

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

“You really shouldn’t.”

Just then, a waitress came by holding two plates with toasted breakfast sandwiches on top of them. She set them down on the table, and Tommy’s mouth watered at the sight of the melted cheese and golden brown bread.

He dug in immediately, and Wilbur chuckled at his aggressiveness. It didn’t take long for him to practically inhale the first half of the sandwich, but he forced himself to slow down when he got to the second half, and set the food down to take another sip of his coffee.

Wilbur, who was only halfway through the first half of his own sandwich, huffed. “You’re like a vacuum cleaner.”

“What, gonna judge a man for being hungry?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, but I’ll judge a child for choking because he ate his food too fast,” Wilbur teased.

Tommy made a noise of protest. “You bitch! I’m eighteen, I’m not a fucking child!”

“Child,” Wilbur repeated through a mouthful of sandwich.

Flipping him off, Tommy then slumped back in his seat as he wrapped his hands around his coffee again, trying to leech off the warmth from inside the cup. A moment of silence fell over the table, with Wilbur chewing his food, and Tommy sipping at his drink.

“So Tommy,” Wilbur said after a few moments, putting down his sandwich, “I need to know what exactly I have to train you on. Because the thing is, you’re already a pro surfer, so you’re pretty prepared to go out and try bigger waves. But there are certain things you don’t need to do for normal pro surfing that you absolutely need for big wave surfing.”

Humming, Tommy picked up the second half of his sandwich. “Okay, like what?”

“Well, I think the biggest thing is breath control training. I know some pro surfers do that, but not all of them since you guys aren’t usually underwater for that long. Have you done that before?”

Tommy nodded. “Actually, yeah. I don’t do regular exercises to train my breath or anything, but I’ve taken a class on breath control before.”

Wilbur grinned. “That’s great. We’ll have to do some breath training in a pool, but that’ll help you a ton.”

Taking another bite of his sandwich, Tommy chewed for a moment, then swallowed the bite before asking, “What’s the longest you’ve been held under for?”

“Here at Nazaré?” Wilbur asked. Tommy nodded, and Wilbur hummed. “There have been a few times I’ve been held down for two waves, and that usually lasts around thirty seconds. But it feels way longer when you’re down there, as I’m sure you know. Even if you’re held under for ten seconds, it feels like an eternity, especially if you’re being tossed around by the wave.”

“Have you ever been held under for more than two waves?”

The thoughtful look on Wilbur’s face faded to something darker. “Uh, yeah. That’s happened. I once was held under for over a minute because three waves came in, before I managed to kick up and get a breath, but then another set came in and I had to go back under for another thirty seconds. That wasn’t a very fun day.”

“Fuck, yeah, doesn’t sound like it,” Tommy muttered, trying to imagine what it felt like being held under for that long with waves the size of an eight story building crashing on top of his head. “How’d you get out?”

“Just had to wait for Techno to be able to get to me on the jet ski.” Wilbur paused, furrowing his brows at Tommy. “Wait, how much do you know about tow surfing?”

Tommy blinked. “Um, I know you get dropped into the wave by a jet ski. That’s kind of it though.”

Wilbur stared at him for a beat, before squeezing his eyes shut. “Shit. Okay. That’s gonna be our main lesson then.” Steepling his fingers under his chin, Wilbur took a breath before opening his eyes again. “When it comes to surfing big waves, there’s only so much you can do paddling on your own. Usually, the biggest wave you can get just by paddling into it is roughly thirty feet or so. There are certain waves here at Nazaré you can paddle into, but most people don’t even bother because you need a jet ski on standby anyway. For the most part, the way tow surfing works here is that you have a partner, and the two of you are gonna switch off driving the jet ski and surfing the waves. If you’re the one surfing and you get stuck under the wave, your partner on the jet ski is usually gonna be the one to come get you out.”

“Who’s your partner?” Tommy asked.

“Techno and I are usually partnered up, but while you’re here, you and I are gonna be partners.”

Immediately, Tommy stiffened. “I wouldn’t- I don’t wanna fuck Techno over like that.”

“Don’t worry, Techno was already considering taking a break this season so he was just gonna be driving me out. He already knew I was planning to ask you about this, so he won’t be upset,” Wilbur reassured him.

Tommy’s shoulders slumped with relief. Okay, that was good. The last thing he’d want to do is piss off one of the most famous big wave surfers in the world.

After a beat of silence though, another realization slammed into Tommy.

“Wait, you’re trusting me to get you out of the impact zone if you wipeout?” Tommy asked, staring at Wilbur in horror.

Wilbur didn’t seem nearly as worried as Tommy thought he should be. “Yup. Sure am.”

“That- That’s insane. Wilbur, I’m not used to being in this kind of water at all. I’m not the person you wanna rely on to get you out of a situation like that,” Tommy said, trying to make Wilbur understand how stupid this was.

“I wouldn’t trust you to do that right now. But again, that’s why I’m teaching you,” Wilbur explained, resting his chin on top of his hands. “You know how to drive a jet ski, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you’re already halfway there,” Wilbur shrugged. “I won’t lie though, driving a jet ski around the area where the waves are breaking at Praia do Norte is harder than pretty much anywhere else you’d be doing tow surfing. And that’s not necessarily because of the size of the waves.”

Frowning, Tommy straightened up in his seat. “Why is it harder then?”

“Well, you know how most of the time when you’re surfing at a popular spot, there’s a calm section off to the side where the waves don’t break so that’s where all the other surfers wait their turn to catch a wave?” Wilbur asked.

“Uh, yeah?”

“That’s usually where jet skis will wait too if they’re doing tow surfing. But here, there’s no section like that. The waves break all over the place, not just in a straight line.”

Tommy remembered noticing that at the lighthouse the day before. “Yeah, I saw that yesterday.”

“That’s because of the whole reason Nazaré gets these insane waves in the first place.” Suddenly, there was a smile spreading across Wilbur’s face as he took out his phone to pull up google. “There’s a massive canyon under the water right along the coast here. The way the energy from incoming swells interacts with the canyon is what creates these huge waves, which also has the consequence of making wave breaks happen all over the place.”

He pushed the phone across the table, and Tommy saw that Wilbur had pulled up a map of Nazaré with a section in the ocean colored in a darker shade, showing where the canyon was located.

“Holy fuck,” Tommy whispered when he saw a graphic on the picture label the canyon as being over sixteen thousand feet deep at some parts.

“Pretty cool, right?” Wilbur said, putting his phone back in his pocket. “But yeah, that’s the reason the waves are so batshit, and that’s also why jet ski driving is kind of a pain in the ass. Like I said though, I’m gonna teach you. And the first order of business is going to be getting you used to actually being out in the water, whether you’re driving the jet ski or not.”

“So that’s what we're doing today? We’re gonna take a jet ski out there?” Tommy asked.

“Well, first we’re gonna do some breath training in the pool I train at,” Wilbur told him. “Then we’ll get on a jet ski.”

“Alright then,” Tommy nodded, before taking another huge bite of his sandwich.

It didn’t take long for them to finish their food. Afterwards, Wilbur walked Tommy through the cobblestone streets of Nazaré, passing by vendors selling things like dried fish and hand-woven blankets. They also passed by vendors selling more touristy things, like t-shirts and stickers with pictures of waves on them. It was a strange contrast to see dishes painted with intricate and colorful designs sitting right across from cheap keychains, but it was just the natural consequence of tourism, Tommy supposed.

They got to the pool Wilbur had mentioned, which was a small indoor gym that he used a scanner to get into. It was only the two of them at the pool, and they spent several hours ducking under the water over and over again, Wilbur making Tommy do different exercises to extend the time he could hold his breath for.

Something Wilbur emphasized was that it didn’t necessarily matter how long he could hold his breath for, because he was almost never going to be under for more than a minute. The trick was that he had to be able to hold his breath while being battered around in the most violent spin cycle he’d ever felt. It was one thing to hold your breath for three minutes while sitting completely still at the bottom of a pool, it was a whole other to hold your breath for thirty seconds while being ragdolled around with sixty foot waves crashing on top of your head.

By the time they finished with the breathing exercises, Tommy’s lungs ached and his head was spinning. Wilbur handed him a protein bar and a bottled smoothie as a small lunch, and after he’d gotten his energy back, that was when Wilbur said they were going to head out into the water.

About half an hour later, Tommy found himself donning his wetsuit, watching a blonde man help Wilbur get a jet ski into the water. Tommy wasn’t sure who the man was, but he seemed quite a bit older than Wilbur, with shoulder length blonde hair that was partially pulled back into a ponytail, although most of it had fallen out of the hair tie at this point. The two were grunting as they dragged the jet ski to the slope that led into the water, but after only a minute, the jet ski was floating on top of the calm, dark water.

“Well, looks like that’ll do it,” Wilbur said, brushing his hands off and tugging down the sleeves of his own wetsuit. “Let me just go grab one more thing.”

“Sounds good, mate,” the blonde man replied, waving Wilbur off as he hurried back into the garage.

And then, the blonde man was turning to him, and Tommy blinked when he stuck a hand out.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Tommy,” the man told him, giving him an easy smile. “Wil hasn’t shut up about you for weeks.”

Oh. Wilbur talked about him?

Wait, bigger issue. The guy was trying to shake his hand.

Tommy shook the man’s hand, still struggling to figure out if he was supposed to know who this was. “Uh, it’s nice to meet you too,” he stammered, trying to play off that he had no idea who the man was when he clearly knew Tommy.

The man stared at him for a moment, dropping his hand before huffing out a small laugh. “You have no clue who the fuck I am, do you?”

Flushing, Tommy shook his head. “Not really. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just means Wilbur was a little shit who didn’t think it was important enough to introduce you to his lame dad.”

Oh god. This was Wilbur’s father. Fuck. Fuck.

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“You’re fine, Tommy,” Wilbur’s dad laughed, not looking the slightest bit bothered. “The name’s Philza, but you can just call me Phil. I work as a surf photographer.”

Suddenly, Tommy flashed back to the night of the awards ceremony.

“You’re the one who filmed Techno’s winning clip for biggest tow-in, right?” Tommy asked, remembering the name Philza Soot flashing on the screens.

Phil nodded. “Sure am. I usually film both Wil and Techno, but Wil’s friend, Niki, also does camera work for the two of them. She’s the one who filmed Wilbur’s nominated wave.”

“Shit, that’s gotta be interesting to be the camera guy for your own kid out on the waves,” Tommy huffed, thinking of how many times Ranboo had gotten some painfully detailed pictures of Tubbo getting obliterated during the times he wiped out.

“Uh, yeah, you could say that. But I’ve been doing this for longer than Wil’s even been alive, so I’ve seen some pretty rough stuff. It’s kind of just par for the course when you’re surfing waves like these,” Phil shrugged.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “So you’ve been a surf photographer for a really long time then.”

“You can say I’m old,” Phil huffed, smirking at Tommy. “But yeah, I’ve been doing this a long time. When Wil was little I used to take him with me to shoots, and of course I’d make him stay on the shore, but he was always so excited-”

“You better not be telling Tommy embarrassing stories about me!” Wilbur’s voice cut Phil off, and Tommy looked over to see Wilbur emerging from the garage, a bright orange surfboard tucked under his arm.

“Don’t worry, Wil. We hadn’t gotten to the embarrassing stuff yet,” Phil teased, resting a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder.

“Wait, if there are embarrassing stories about Wilbur, then I wanna hear them,” Tommy said, grinning at Phil.

Wilbur shook his head. “Nope! We’re not doing that.” He shrugged Phil’s hand off of him, and moved to sling an arm around Tommy’s shoulders instead. “C’mon Tommy, we don’t need to be bothering this poor, senile old man.”

“Oh you little shit,” Phil scoffed, although he was still smiling as Tommy and Wilbur made their way to the jet ski. “Stay safe out there, alright? Niki’s already up at the lighthouse, so turn on the radio whenever you’re ready.”

“Got it, Phil,” Wilbur said, waving his dad off. “See you in a bit.” Then, Wilbur turned and held the surfboard out to Tommy. “Here, you’re gonna sit on the back on our way out there, so you hold onto the board.”

Tommy frowned. “I thought we were just riding around on the jet ski?”

“We are, but I figured we’d bring the board just in case.”

Just in case of what? Was Wilbur planning to try and grab himself a wave while they were out there, or did he want Tommy to try it out? Tommy wasn’t sure, but he didn’t have any plans to try and get a wave that day. He was already nervous enough about trying to drive a jet ski out there, actually catching a wave was laughable.

Still, Tommy didn’t argue as he climbed onto the back of the jet ski, struggling to position the surfboard under his arm as Wilbur settled himself in the driver’s seat. He dropped his feet to trail in the water, and winced at how cold it was. At least it wasn’t any worse than England. Surfing in the winter was more of a test of wills for him than anything else.

The jet ski rumbled to life underneath him. Wilbur pulled away from the docks, keeping one hand on the actual handles of the jet ski, and the other holding what looked like a walkie-talkie. They drove around the bend of the marina, the water growing choppier the further out they got.

Soon enough, they were passing by the main tourist beach for the town—Praia da Nazaré—and even though there was a chill in the air, Tommy saw a few towels scattered across the sand, each with a different beach-goer on top taking advantage of the dying sunlight. White water rushed around the jet ski, and they drove over a few baby waves, making Tommy have to readjust his grip on the surfboard so it didn’t slip out of his hands.

They banked around the cliff, and Tommy saw the lighthouse they had visited the day before sitting at the very edge. As they got closer to the base of the cliff, icy drops of water sprayed across Tommy’s face from the waves crashing against the spires of dark rock. Wilbur kept the jet ski a good distance from the rocks, but Tommy still eyed them nervously all the same. And then, they headed past the cliff, and the shores of Praia do Norte came into view.

As did the waves.

According to Wilbur, winter swells didn’t get really big until much later on in the season. The waves they were seeing here today were some of the smallest Praia do Norte would see for the next six months. But even though Tommy knew these waves couldn’t be more than twenty to thirty feet tall, those were still monsters he had never seen up close before.

Tommy had thought to himself that the water looked chaotic from the lighthouse, with the waves breaking in every direction without any kind of pattern or consistency. It was even worse than he imagined though. Once they had crossed over what Tommy guessed was the underwater canyon, the jet ski was being pushed from side to side, and Wilbur had to veer left and right every few seconds to stay out of the way of different crashing waves.

Suddenly, the walkie-talkie in Wilbur’s hand crackled to life.

“Wilbur, can you hear me?” A girl’s voice came through.

Making a sharp right to avoid a breaking wave that was on the smaller side (meaning it was at least fifteen feet tall), Wilbur lifted the walkie-talkie to his ear. “Yeah, I hear you Niki. You up at the lighthouse?”

“Sure am! And you might want to step on the gas a bit, there’s a two wave set coming up behind you.”

Immediately, Wilbur floored it, and Tommy glanced behind to see that Niki was right—there was a twenty foot wave crashing right behind them. He bit down a yelp as the white water chased after them, a huge splash of icy water landing right on his back.

“Fucking hell!” Tommy exclaimed once the jet ski had slowed down again.

“If you’re saying that now, I can’t wait to see what you think in a few months,” Wilbur said, making another left to get out of the way of a wave crashing to their right. Then, he lifted the walkie again, eyes darting up towards the lighthouse. “Niki, have you seen any forty footers?”

“I don’t think so. A few thirty foot ones, but it’s pretty relaxed today,” Niki replied, and Tommy followed Wilbur’s gaze to the lighthouse, trying to see if he could spot where she was watching them from.

Faintly, he could make out a head of pink hair standing at the far corner of the stone platform. He remembered Wilbur sitting next to a girl with pink hair at the awards ceremony, so maybe that was her? He wasn’t sure though. The person was way too far away for him to see if they had a walkie-talkie in their hand or not.

They sped up to drive over a smaller wave, the nose of the jet ski going high as Tommy’s stomach dropped. Wilbur sped a bit further away from the shore and back into the choppier areas, and Tommy tightened his grip on the surfboard as the jet ski rocked underneath them.

“What do you think so far?” Wilbur asked, having to shout to be heard over the roar of the waves and the jet ski engine.

“It’s a lot!” Tommy yelled back, his stomach flipping when more icy water splashed across his face.

Wilbur laughed at that. “Do you wanna try driving?”

Tommy’s eyes went wide. While the constant moving of the jet ski was making his head spin, the more he focused on it, the less intense it seemed. Wilbur didn’t seem particularly worried as he dodged the waves, he just had to pay attention.

It seemed almost… fun. Sure, there was an element of fear, but the waves weren’t big enough to tip the jet ski over or anything. At least not today. And when Wilbur drove over another wave, Tommy found himself laughing as the sea spray splattered his cheeks.

“Okay!”

Beaming, Wilbur drove the jet ski a little closer to shore so they weren’t being battered by the waves so much. He gestured for Tommy to hand over the surfboard, which he gratefully did. Then, the two began the awkward dance of switching positions on the jet ski, all while trying to avoid tipping it over.

Tommy set one foot on the side, Wilbur stood up, and the two shuffled around each other for a few seconds while the jet ski rocked from side to side. Then, Tommy collapsed on the driver’s seat, and Wilbur chuckled as he settled himself on the back.

“Take us away, Captain Tommy,” Wilbur said, doing a mock salute with one hand while he held the surfboard under his arm.

Huffing, Tommy steered the jet ski back towards the waves. There was a sharp jerk when he didn’t notice a wave slammed into them from the left, but it wasn’t that big, so the jet ski was able to stay upright as Tommy drove them further out.

The engine hummed under his hands. He picked up speed, slamming the nose of the jet ski straight into a crashing wave that had to at least be twenty feet. Icy water soaked his chest as they tipped up up up—before falling back down behind the wave.

It was strangely fun, dodging the waves despite the fact that they were getting bigger now that he was driving further away from the shore. Having the waves break on all sides of him was a bit exhausting to keep up with, because every time he’d slow the jet ski down to take a breather, another wave would appear and push them the other direction. But that just made his heart pound and kept his blood warm. Tommy had to be paying attention as he veered between the sets, crackling foam pooling around them as they drove through the white water.

There was a much louder crackling then, and Tommy realized it was the walkie-talkie.

“There’s a big set coming in soon. You might wanna have Tommy drive back to shore,” Niki said, her voice layered over with static.

Tommy’s heart skipped a beat, while Wilbur just furrowed his brows. “Does it look promising?”

“Yeah, it does.”

A smile spread across Wilbur’s face. “Say Tommy, do you wanna learn how to tow someone into a wave?”

Oh fuck.

“I dunno Wilbur-”

“All you have to worry about really is just getting the ski over the crest before it breaks,” Wilbur explained, handing the walkie talkie to Tommy. Then, before Tommy could say anything, he was shimmying off his seat and onto the rescue sled attached to the back of the ski.

Tommy turned to avoid another crashing wave, and glanced back to see Wilbur grabbing a yellow, rubber cord off the sled. He slid into the water with his surfboard, wincing a bit at how cold it was, before wrapping his hands tightly around the cord.

“I don’t know how to drop you in!” Tommy tried to explain.

“Just drive to the front of the wave right as it’s starting to grow and then get over the back of it. I know when to let go!” Wilbur said, having to shout to be heard.

Glancing to his left, Tommy could now see the set Niki had mentioned. The water was building into a slow mountain, the grey water looking more blue than it had all day in the afternoon light.

All he had to do was drive over the wave before it broke. Wilbur knew when to let go. It couldn’t be that hard, right?

Shoving down his anxiety, Tommy pressed down on the gas and drove the ski towards the wave. Behind him, Wilbur was being pulled along, feet steadily on his board as he waited for Tommy to drop him in.

He turned so he was parallel to the building well of water, getting lifted higher and higher above the shore as the wave built underneath him. It was dizzying to suddenly be so high up, and he had a perfectly clear view of the empty shore from this vantage point.

When you spent your life in the water, it didn’t take long to get a sense for when waves were about to break. Even though this was a much bigger wave than Tommy was used to, he could still see the signs. The gradual swell, the slow build as the water rose higher and higher, the very top of the wave just starting to curl.

Tommy slammed on the gas to drive over the crest right before it broke. He heard a loud cheer behind him, but didn’t look back as he sped down the back of the wave, the jet ski slamming into the water with a sharp jolt. Sea spray soaked his hair, but Tommy didn’t care as he whipped his head behind him to the sled.

Wilbur wasn’t there. Which meant he’d let go to ride the wave.

He couldn’t see Wilbur from behind the wave, so he used the hand he was steering with to bank around it, the choppy water jumping underneath the ski. White water crashed down like an avalanche, and Tommy pushed harder down on the gas, trying to see if he could make out if Wilbur had wiped out or not.

“Niki, can you see him?” Tommy asked, pressing down on the walkie-talkie. He didn’t even register that this was technically his first time speaking directly to her, more focused on trying to spot a flash of orange board or black wetsuit in the water.

“I’m not sure-”

Before Niki could continue, Wilbur appeared from the white water like a bullet. He was completely soaked, his dark hair plastered against his forehead, but he was still standing upright on his board.

Tommy sped over to Wilbur, spinning the jet ski around so he could hop up on the rescue sled. As Wilbur swam over though, there was another loud roar, and a rock dropped into his gut when he looked up to see a second wave barreling right for them.

The jet ski dipped under the weight of Wilbur hopping onto the sled. Tommy didn’t think twice before he was slamming his foot on the gas, trying to outrun the wave as best he could.

It roared in his ears like a beast chasing them. Tommy pressed harder down on the pedal, willing it to go forward as water slammed into his back. He could only hope Wilbur was holding onto the sled as he sped towards shore.

Then, the water calmed. Tommy glanced over his shoulder, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Wilbur hanging onto the sled, surfboard right underneath him.

“That was fucking brilliant, Tommy!” Wilbur exclaimed, his grin a complete contrast to the way Tommy’s heart was pounding out of his chest.

Slumping over the handles of the ski, Tommy let out a deep sigh of relief. “So I did that right?”

“Right? It was perfect. You dropped me exactly where I needed to be,” Wilbur said, still not making any moves to climb back up onto the ski.

Tommy smiled, pride welling up inside of him hearing that he’d done well at towing Willbur out. But then he noticed how Wilbur wasn’t making any moves to climb up again, and his smile disappeared.

“You aren’t getting back on the ski.”

“Well, I wanted to see if there were any more good waves,” Wilbur said, staring at Tommy with a strange glint in his eye. There was a beat of silence, before a smirk flickered over his face. “Unless you wanna try it out for yourself?”

Although Tommy’s first instinct was to say no, he paused, letting his feet trail in the water as he thought it over. The waves were big, but they weren’t anywhere near the monsters Nazaré was known to create during swells. They seemed relatively stable right now, and while it was chaotic to try and weave through the breaks, he could watch a wave curl over on itself and picture how he would carve through the face of it the same way he’d always done with smaller waves. Sharp, and without hesitation.

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded, excitement bubbling in his chest. “Let’s do it.”

A few minutes later, Tommy was holding onto the cord for dear life.

Wilbur’s surfboard was steady underneath him, and icy water was trailing up his legs and making him shiver as autumn air whipped around his head. The roar of the water rushing blocked out everything else, and Tommy twisted his fingers around the cord keeping him attached to the back of the jet ski, watching the waves crash around them with terrified fascination.

Unlike Tommy, Wilbur was more than familiar with how to tow a surfer onto a wave. They rode around in circles for a few minutes, Wilbur letting Tommy get used to the feeling of being towed along, before Niki told them about a new set coming through.

“When I tell you to let go, let go immediately!” Wilbur shouted as they drove towards a slow-growing mountain of water.

“Okay!” Tommy yelled back, his heart thundering against his ribcage.

This was it. He was about to ride a big wave for the first time.

The jet ski tipped up as they began to ride parallel to the wave. Tommy could practically feel the energy under his feet as the wave swelled beneath him, and his heart pounded faster the more it grew.

It was all so loud. Everything was bright and loud and cold—but it was also exhilarating. There was wind on his face and salt on his tongue. His heart was racing but it was a reminder that this was real. He was in Nazaré, about to surf a twenty foot wave with Wilbur Soot towing him out.

“LET GO!” Wilbur suddenly shouted.

And Tommy, who had been zoned out in those few precious seconds, normally would’ve hesitated. He would’ve paused to look around and make sure this was the right time to drop on the wave. He would’ve checked everything before letting go of his life line so easily.

But he trusted Wilbur. For some reason, he trusted him completely.

So he let go. And for the briefest of seconds, it felt like he was flying.

In that moment, his instincts took over. He began to race down the wave, the speed leaving him breathless as he dropped towards the bottom with the board rattling underneath his feet. Tommy shifted his balance so he curved up, slowing down his descent and spraying himself with salt water.

Wind was whipping past his ears, blocking every other sound out. His stomach dropped out from underneath him, and he angled the board up again, water splashing onto his back as the wave crashed behind him. He leaned forward, gaining speed as he outran the white water.

He was weightless. He was breathless. He was falling down a building with nothing but a sheet of fiberglass under his feet.

It felt like eternity. Then, he blinked, and the wave was gone. His board slowed, and he was still standing on top. When he glanced behind him, the wave had fully collapsed, and the resulting white water crept towards the shore.

Leaning back, he slipped into the water again, trying to get his bearings as he rested his arms on top of the board. There was the roar of an engine, and suddenly the jet ski was in front of him.

For a moment, he was dazed. Then, he focused, and saw Wilbur offering him a hand up, the sun illuminating the back of his head like a halo. But even compared to the sunlight, Tommy noticed his smile was somehow brighter.

“You did amazing, man!” Wilbur exclaimed, grabbing Tommy’s wrist and hoisting him up onto the ski.

Tommy laughed a bit, his hands shaking as the jet ski rode away from the breaking waves and closer to the shore. “Was that a good wave?”

Everything in him was buzzing. His hands shook, electricity had lit up his veins, and he felt like he was too big for his own skin. Like there was a fire burning inside of him that he couldn’t contain.

“That was so fucking good for your first wave,” Wilbur told him, keeping his eyes in front of him but a reaching a hand back for a high-five.

Tommy let out a shaky laugh as he smacked Wilbur’s hand, before taking a deep breath to steady himself. They continued to circle around the breaking waves, and Tommy spent those precious seconds gathering his thoughts, and centering himself back in his body.

Once he felt fully grounded again, he tapped Wilbur’s shoulder.

“Can I catch another one?”

The jet ski slammed over another wave. Water sprayed Tommy in the face, and Wilbur raised the hand holding the walkie-talkie.

“Niki, tell us where the next best set is at so we can get Tommy another wave.”

Several waves later, and Tommy still felt like he was flying. He was plenty warm now, and found himself getting more confident about his balance on the surfboard as he raced down the face of the waves. He figured out how to adjust the usual shifts and balances he did when riding smaller waves to account for the speed difference that came with the larger ones. He adjusted his stance to account for the way the board shook under him. It was tricky, but he was figuring it out, one wave at a time.

After an hour of this, Tommy’s muscles were aching with fatigue. His legs shook and his hands were sore when he wrapped his fingers around the cord again, but he didn’t complain. He was having more fun surfing than he had in… years. It was so incredibly challenging to account for all the things that were different about surfing big waves, but that was what made it interesting. He was being forced to learn on the fly, and Tommy had forgotten until now that that was something he excelled at.

“Do you wanna head in yet?” Wilbur called out as Tommy climbed onto the sled again, water dripping into his eyes from his hair.

Tommy shook his head. “No, I’m good!”

Unlike before, when Tommy’s determination to keep trying was making Wilbur smile, now he frowned.

“Are you sure? You’ve been at this for a while now. You’ve gotta be tired.”

He was. Oh god, he was so tired. His muscles were going to be screaming the second he climbed out of the water. But he didn’t want it to be over yet. Not when he finally felt like he was getting the hang of it.

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

Wilbur hesitated, mouth pressing into a thin line.

“We’ll do one more,” he said after a moment. “You don’t wanna be riding these things when you’re tired. That’s when you’re more likely to make a mistake.”

Tommy frowned, but knew it wasn’t worth the argument. Wilbur probably had a point. Waves like these were ones you couldn’t afford even the slightest misstep on. One wrong move and you would end up being tossed around like a whirlpool.

Well, kind of. These were only around twenty feet. Nothing like the giant waves that you had to be extremely cautious on. Sure, these waves looked scary at first, but after riding a few of them Tommy was starting to realize that it wasn’t as big of a deal as he thought it was. He just had to watch his speed.

He nodded at Wilbur, and then the jet ski was turning to head back towards the latest set. There was another rising swell of water, and Tommy prepared himself, bracing his legs and lifting himself up with the cord as Wilbur drove the ski parallel to the face of it.

“Let go now!” Wilbur shouted.

His hands dropped the cord, and Tommy began to speed down the wave. When he looked down, he realized it seemed a little taller than the other ones, but not by much. It’s not like it mattered. He’d been handling the waves fine until now.

The board shuddered underneath him as he sped down the face of it, carving tracks behind him as he banked from side to side. Now that he had a better idea of how to balance himself, Tommy figured now was a good chance to try out one of his favorite tricks on smaller waves with this one.

Bending his legs, Tommy twisted the board so it made a sharp right with a jolting snap! The board followed underneath him, and he laughed when sea spray shot out from the face of the wave at the move.

But then, something went wrong.

Maybe it was the fact that his legs were too tired to bend enough to pick up his speed. Maybe it was the fact that the wave was a bit larger than the others he’d ridden so far, so he misjudged how much speed he’d need to get to the bottom. Or maybe it was just because he hadn’t done this trick on a big wave before, and he didn’t think as much as he should have about the timing of it all.

Either way, Tommy knew that what happened next was his own fault.

He wasn’t going fast enough. Even though he was still racing towards the bottom, he could hear the break behind him. Icy water was blasting the back of his head, and he grit his teeth, trying to go faster and faster as the slope evened out beneath the board. But he wasn’t fast enough.

Next thing he knew, a wave of water was slamming into his back.

All surfers, regardless of skill level, had been caught in a wave before. Even if it was only five feet tall, it wasn’t hard to lose your footing and get sucked into the current, and get twisted around until you couldn’t remember which way was up. Tommy was more than familiar with the sensation after this many years of surfing.

Even still, nothing could’ve prepared him for this feeling.

It was like a car had slammed straight into him. Water crashed on top of him, spinning him up and down and right and left until he couldn’t remember which way was up. The water was cold and his mind was racing and he couldn’t breathe- oh god, he couldn’t breathe. The wind had been knocked out of him and it took all his willpower and training to not try and gasp for air.

Relax, the instructor for his breath training class had told him so long ago. The more you fight against it, the more air you’ll waste. Just go with the water.

Tommy went limp, despite everything in his body screaming at him to try and swim. He was spinning spinning spinning—his leg felt like it was being pulled behind his head and his eyes were squeezed shut to try and keep any saltwater from getting into them.

His lungs ached. His lungs ached. His lungs ached.

And then, it stopped.

Tommy swam blindly in the direction he guessed was up as soon as the water stopped pulling him every which way. He felt the leash for his surfboard tug on his ankle, and blindly yanked it behind him as his fingertips broke the surface of the water, followed by his face.

He gasped for air. Sweet relief washed over him as he blinked saltwater out of his eyes. The foam from the white water around him was crackling in his ears and black dots were dancing around his vision, but he was breathing again.

Grabbing the leash tied around his ankle, Tommy pulled under the water until he wrapped his fingers around the surfboard. Then, he heard the distant hum of a jet ski engine, and began to wave his arms in the air.

“WILBUR!” He shouted, his voice hoarse.

Immediately, the engine got louder. “Tommy?!”

There was another wave set coming. Tommy could hear the roar behind him, but the jet ski was louder. All at once, Wilbur broke over a smaller wave, and Tommy almost went limp with relief as the jet ski spun around so it was right next to him.

“Hurry up!” Wilbur yelled at him.

His limbs felt like jello as he clambered up onto the rescue sled. As soon as his fingers were twisted into the ropes, he grunted to tell Wilbur he was good to go, and they sped out of there right as a wave came crashing down behind them. More water soaked Tommy’s legs and back, but it didn’t swallow him up like it had before. They’d made it out.

This time, Tommy didn’t argue with Wilbur about wanting to go back for another wave. Instead, all he felt was relief as they left the tumultuous waters of Praia do Norte behind.

“Are you okay, Tommy?”

Tommy glanced up from the table, startled out of his thoughts by Niki’s soft voice. Her grey eyes were narrowed under her pastel bangs, scrutinizing him in a way that felt as though she was trying to read his body language like words on a page.

After they’d left the water, Phil had driven him and Wilbur straight to Tommy’s hotel so Tommy could change out of his wetsuit. Wilbur was sympathetic after his shakeup in the water, casting him nervous looks and repeatedly asking if he was hurt even though Tommy kept telling him he was fine.

And that was the truth. Tommy was fine. He hadn’t been hurt getting caught in the wave, just a little shaken up. It was like a rite of passage for anyone trying to surf big waves. It wasn’t a big deal.

Which is why it didn’t make sense why Tommy felt so out of it. Not in a way like he had a head injury—no, Tommy had gotten concussions enough times to know when he needed to be worried. He just felt… rattled.

Scared was maybe a better word for it, but Tommy didn’t want to say he was scared. Nothing bad had actually happened to him. Wilbur had certainly been caught in far worse situations than the one Tommy found himself in today. It was ridiculous for him to get spooked by a wave like that.

So he shoved down the anxiety churning in his gut, and forced a smile on his face when Wilbur had asked him if he wanted to come to dinner with the others. He had showered and changed clothes, and while there was a red mark on his ankle from where the leash had been tugging him while he was caught in the waves, that was the extent of his ‘injuries’. He was fine.

Now they were at dinner. There was a restaurant on the bottom floor of his hotel, so Phil had gotten them a table while Tommy was taking his shower. Niki and Techno had driven over to join them, and now the five of them were chatting about the waves he and Wilbur had caught that day.

Well, four of them were talking. Tommy didn’t have the energy to contribute much to the conversation, especially when Wilbur was the only person he really knew at the table. He had been content to just listen to Wilbur talk about how it was promising for the waves to be this solid this early into the season, but his silence hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“I’m fine. Just tired,” Tommy reassured her, taking another bite of his fish with a small smile plastered on his face.

Tommy was so tired, he hadn’t even found it in himself to be awestruck when Wilbur introduced him to Techno when he and Niki got to the table. Everything in his body ached, and if it was this bad already, he was dreading how sore he was going to be when he woke up tomorrow morning.

Niki stared at him for a moment longer, and he squirmed under her gaze. He had been right assuming that she was the pink-haired woman he saw sitting next to Wilbur at the awards ceremony. Her hair reminded him of flower petals, a softer shade compared to Techno’s own dyed strands. Apparently, she and Phil alternated roles being spotters or photographers for Wilbur and Techno when they were out in the water—a setup they’d had for several years now.

While Phil and Techno were content to listen to Wilbur ramble, Niki was dividing her attention to keep an eye on him. Maybe that was because besides Wilbur, she was the only other one to see him wipe out on the wave today. He wasn’t sure if he appreciated the concern, or if it annoyed him.

Tommy took another bite of his dinner, and Niki nudged Wilbur’s side with her elbow. He watched as she leaned up to whisper something in Wilbur’s ear, and tried to ignore the way Wilbur’s eyes immediately darted towards him.

“I think I’m gonna go to my room,” Tommy suddenly announced before Wilbur could ask him the same thing Niki just did. He didn’t need the entire table fretting over him. Not when he knew he was fine. He just needed to sleep, that’s all.

Wilbur’s brows furrowed. “But you’re not done eating yet.”

Looking down at his food again, Tommy’s stomach turned when he imagined taking another bite. “I’m full,” he said, pushing out of his chair. “I’ll venmo you for my food later.”

“Let the kid go. With the beating you said he took, I’m surprised he’s still standing,” Techno chimed in, and relief washed over Tommy at the out he was giving him.

Although Wilbur seemed like he wanted to argue, he slumped back in his seat, and gave Tommy a reluctant nod. “Alright. If you’re sure.”

Tommy nodded again, eager to get away from the table so he could bury himself under blankets and sleep away the anxiety clawing up his throat. He turned to leave the restaurant, but before he could get one foot in front of the other, Wilbur called out again.

“We’ll head out in the water again tomorrow, if you want?”

A shudder ran through Tommy at the idea of getting back in that water, which he quickly did his best to hide. He was overreacting. He was fine to go back to training tomorrow. He just needed sleep.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he said without looking back at the table.

Then, before anyone could question him further, he beelined his way out of the restaurant. He ducked between different groups of people checking into the hotel at the front desk, hurrying straight for the elevators and bouncing on his heels as he waited for the doors to slide open.

A few minutes later, Tommy was standing in front of his hotel room door. His hands shook as he slid the key card into the lock, and he stumbled inside as soon as the door unlocked, slamming it shut behind him as he was finally alone again.

Tommy stared at his hotel room. At the wetsuit he’d hung over the door to the bathroom. At the sand he’d tracked in that was embedded into the carpet. Tomorrow, he would put on that wetsuit again and try to catch more waves. He would continue adjusting his balance and his speed as Wilbur took precious time out of his own training to teach him for no reason other than he thought Tommy had potential.

A part of him was buzzing with excitement as he remembered the thrill of riding down that first wave. The speed and power underneath his board was so much better than anything he’d ever felt riding small waves in competitions. The head rush he’d gotten was almost like what he imagined being high to feel like—pure euphoria.

But another part of him was dreading the idea of setting foot back in that water. His body was aching and he still felt phantom pressure pushing down on his lungs, begging him to try and breathe as he was tossed around like a limp doll by the ocean. Niki told him the wave he’d wiped out on was probably close to thirty feet tall. That was nothing compared to what Nazaré was capable of creating.

He tried to imagine what it would feel like to wipe out on a seventy foot wave. It was something he couldn’t comprehend.

With methodical slowness, Tommy took off his shoes and changed into his pajamas. He did a few stretches to try to combat the soreness in his legs and arms, and while it hurt like a bitch, he felt a little looser afterwards.

Then, he curled up on top of his bed, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and huddling against his pillows. He turned on the TV and found a channel playing some American action movie with Portuguese subtitles, and did his best to focus on that. To watch the cars explode with all the magic of CGI and ignore the phantom waves pulling and pushing on every inch of his body.

His skin was still buzzing. Nausea was rising up his throat.

Suddenly, his movie was interrupted by a knock at the door, and Tommy was relieved to be distracted from his own thoughts for even just a few minutes.

Keeping the blanket wrapped around him, Tommy shuffled over to the door. He figured it was just housekeeping stopping by to ask if he wanted turn down service or something, so he didn’t bother looking through the peephole to see who was there as he swung the door open.

Tommy then found himself standing face to face with Wilbur once again.

“Uh, hi,” Tommy said, dread curling in his gut as he wondered what Wilbur was doing here.

“Hey,” Wilbur replied, giving him a sheepish smile. “I figured you might want your leftovers, so…” he trailed off, holding up a plastic container which Tommy presumed held the remains of his dinner.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

Wilbur shrugged. “I won’t lie, I kind of also just wanted an excuse to come check on you.”

Tommy blinked. “I’m fine. Like I said, I’m just tired.”

There was a beat of silence as Wilbur raised an eyebrow at him. Tommy met his gaze, lifting his chin and trying to make Wilbur believe the obvious lie through sheer will alone.

After a few seconds though, Tommy found himself deflating. It was obvious that Wilbur knew something was up, and it wasn’t really worth trying to hide it. Especially not when he was in his pajamas, with a blanket wrapped over his head like he was a little kid again, looking decidedly less convincing than he would be in any other situation.

“Can I come in?” Wilbur asked.

Sighing, Tommy nodded and opened the door further. Wilbur had to duck under the doorframe to avoid hitting his head, and made his way into the room, setting the leftovers down on the TV stand before standing aimlessly in front of his bed.

Tommy let the door slam shut behind him, shuffling back over to the bed and plopping down where he’d been sitting earlier. “You can sit down,” he told Wilbur once he’d settled himself, patting the spot on the comforter next to him.

Wilbur sat down, shoulders hunched as he twisted his fingers in his lap. Tommy, meanwhile, brought his knees up to his chest and curled further back into his blanket. Like he was a little kid about to get a lecture for breaking a rule.

Silence hung between them for several long seconds. The phantom waves continued to push against Tommy’s sides.

“So you took a beating today,” Wilbur finally said, glancing up from his lap to meet Tommy’s eyes.

Tommy shrugged. “It wasn’t that bad. Only got held under for one wave, y’know?”

“But it was still your first time getting stuck in the washing machine on a big wave,” Wilbur pointed out, his voice gentle. “A thirty foot wave isn’t a joke. Yeah, maybe compared to the seventy foot waves it seems small, but that doesn’t make it any less intense. Especially when you’re just starting out with big wave surfing.”

Unsure of how to respond to that, Tommy stayed silent, curling further back against the pillows.

“You picked up on surfing the bigger waves so quickly, I kind of forgot that you were still brand new to it,” Wilbur continued after a moment, something like guilt flashing over his face. “I should’ve- I dunno, I didn’t think to check on you after we got back to the marina besides making sure you weren’t injured. But just because you didn’t get hurt doesn’t mean an experience like that can’t fuck you up mentally.”

Clenching his jaw, Tommy forced himself to shrug again. “I just got a little shaken up, that’s all.”

“You’re more than just ‘a little’ shaken up. You’ve been as pale as a ghost since we got back to the hotel,” Wilbur pointed out. “And that’s okay. You’re allowed to be freaked out by what happened. I’d be more worried if you weren’t scared after something like that.”

Again, Tommy stayed silent. And again, Wilbur kept talking.

“It was stupid of me to tell you to try out some of the waves today. Physically, you were good to go. But big wave surfing, especially waves out here, is only partially about the physical aspect of it. More than anything, you need to mentally prepare yourself to go out there, and I didn’t warn you about that part. That’s on me.”

“You didn’t tell me to go catch the waves. You gave me the option, and I said yes,” Tommy pointed out, frowning at him. “The reason I wiped out was because I was too tired on that last wave and fucked up. It was my own fault for not recognizing my limits.”

“It was your first time on those waves. I had a bad feeling about letting you catch that last one, so I should’ve stopped you,” Wilbur said, his shoulders hunching even more. Tommy opened his mouth to argue, but Wilbur kept talking before he could. “I know you’re saying you made the choice to keep going, but I’m the experienced one here, so I should’ve known better. I didn’t though. And I want you to know that I don’t blame you at all if you don’t want to go out there again tomorrow, or ever for that matter.”

Now that stopped Tommy dead in his tracks.

Wilbur was telling him he didn’t have to go out again if he didn’t want to. That he could stop this crazy quest to learn big wave surfing when he’d had zero interest in it a few weeks earlier. He could listen to the dread and anxiety wrapping around him like a blanket, he could stop ignoring the nerves clawing up the back of his throat that made him want to curl up in a dark corner and never crawl out again.

Tommy didn’t have to do this if he didn’t want to. No one was forcing him to be here, and Wilbur wouldn’t be upset if he left.

Did he want to stop?

There were two warring sides in Tommy’s mind. One was telling him that he was insane if he went out there again, because he’d just get caught in an even worse wave next time. It was only pure luck he hadn’t gotten hurt this time around, and if he kept doing this, his luck would eventually run out.

The other side though was reminding him of how amazing it felt to ride those waves. How he would never get that same exhilaration from the smaller waves he had made himself a name off of. It would never be the same as it once was.

Seconds ticked by like hours. Wilbur waited as Tommy turned over the options in his mind.

“Why… Why do you do it?” Tommy found himself asking, the question having been sitting in the back of his mind since he’d first started talking to Wilbur. “Why did you switch to big wave surfing? You already had so much going for you in the normal surf circuit. You had no reason to switch, but you did, and I always wondered what changed.”

Wilbur stiffened at that, back straightening up as he twisted his fingers tighter together. For a few moments, he didn’t say anything. He kept his eyes on his lap, and Tommy wondered if he’d gone too far. If this wasn’t something Wilbur wanted to share with him.

But before he could backtrack, Wilbur started talking.

“Surfing… it’s been something I’ve been around since I was a little kid,” Wilbur began, his voice low. “My dad was a surf photographer, and some of my earliest memories are from sitting on the beach, watching him swim around waves with his giant ass camera setup to try and get the picture of a surfer going through the barrel. I think he kind of assumed I was going to follow in his footsteps one day and pick up the camera myself, but I ended up wanting to get on the board instead. It was something I was always drawn to, and I remember the first time I caught a wave it completely took my breath away. All I could hear was the rushing water and the pounding of my own heart, and it was just… amazing. I wanted to feel that all the time.”

He paused, taking a breath.

“I didn’t dream of going pro when I was a kid, but I just found myself winning competitions and realized that it was something I could actually do as my job. So I started gunning for that. I wanted to be remembered, you know?” He laughed a bit, but it was more bitter than joyful. “And I started getting there. I won more and more competitions, and I knew that I should’ve been happy with it but I just… I lost it. That breathless, exhilarating feeling I had whenever I caught a wave as a kid was gone. I wasn’t enjoying what I did anymore, but I had gone so far, I didn’t feel like I could stop. So I kept going, hoping it would get better, but it didn’t.”

His breathing hitched.

“I basically, uh, went to a dark place. I felt like I was trapped in a hell of my own making, because I hated all of it. And I wanted out, but I felt like I couldn’t leave. Like I’d be a failure if I quit,” he explained, keeping his head down. “I got reckless, did some stupid shit, and ended up in the hospital.”

Tommy’s mouth went dry, not missing the vague way he worded that.

“I was obviously forced to take a break from surfing,” Wilbur huffed, his shoulders slumping. “I ended up in Nazaré because that’s where Phil and Techno were at. Techno was in the middle of the winter competition season, Phil was his main photographer, and I was just pretty lost for what I was supposed to do next. At one point, Techno offered to teach me how to ride some of the waves at Nazaré, and the first time I did, it was back.” At this, his face softened. “The breathlessness, the excitement—I felt it again. I enjoyed surfing again, and I knew I’d never be able to go back to normal waves.”

Pulling the blanket tighter around him, Tommy considered this for a moment. “So surfing big waves is the only way you can have fun with it?”

Wilbur huffed, finally meeting Tommy’s eyes. “Sometimes I feel like it’s the only time I’m really alive.”

Tommy let out a slow breath at that. He understood what Wilbur meant when he described losing that breathless excitement that came with catching a wave. He hadn’t even realized how much he’d missed that feeling until he caught his first wave earlier that day.

If Tommy stayed in his normal surf circuit without changing anything, he could see himself going down a spiral like how Wilbur described. Going and going and going until he dreaded the very idea of getting in the water.

Or he could go back. He could chase that breathless thrill that came with flying down the face of a huge wave. He could try again.

“I want to keep doing this,” he said quietly.

Unlike before, Wilbur’s smile was much smaller this time. But there was still something unbelievably warm glinting in his eyes.

“Okay then.”