026.01 TONY – Calm Before the Storm September 13 at 17:00 – 19:30

13.9.

The early evening air is stagnant; the heat hangs low and presses down on everything trying to draw a breath. The shadows are long, but they offer no relief – they just drag behind them the scent of asphalt growing soft beneath soles. A lonely cloud is on the verge of a cry, but it won't yield a single drop. Every step makes the sound of a soft squelch, as though the city were trying to swallow itself.

Tom – diary, 9/13

My skin creaked as I reached for air. I wished it would split and let out the sound trapped inside. Maybe that's the only way to hear what we've really swallowed.

TONY

I've probably never been so glad for the sound of ventilation as I am now.

Two figures, two pairs of eyes. One pair stares at me with that strange mix of admiration and competitiveness. Tom, bottles in hand, acting as if he can't decide whether he's an enemy or a fan. Or something in between.

Only, my thoughts are elsewhere.

I feel Viktor holding my ankles, his fingers gripping my insteps tightly. I look at him before doing another sit-up. In his eyes I see something I can't quite decipher. As if he were waiting for something I can't give. Or maybe I can, but not here. Not now.

"Thanks," I say to Tom as he hands me the sports drink. I take it without breaking eye contact with Viktor. There's something between us – like an electric current. All three of us feel it.

Tom shifts from one foot to the other. He has that damn swimmer's walk of his, as if his body were still preparing for another dive into the water. Every movement of his is somehow… purposeful. Even if right now he looks like he doesn't know what to do with his hands.

„The coach said they'll be doing synchronized today,“ he drops the remark, and it sounds like a question.

I nod. "Yeah, I told him I'd try those jumps off the three-meter board with you."

Viktor lets go of my ankles and I sit up. I feel something changing in the air, as if the room had suddenly shrunk. Each of us feels that something is happening, but nobody wants to name it.

Then Bromlil's voice echoes through the loudspeaker and all three of us flinch slightly. End of public hours. As if he's reminding us that the world exists outside this gym, outside this moment.

“We should go,” I say and begin folding my sleeping mat. I hear Viktor sigh—so quietly that I'm not sure if I'm not just imagining it.

As I walk past Tom, our shoulders brush for a second. I catch his scent – chlorine, shower gel, and something I can't put my finger on. Something that is simply… Tom.

„Thanks for the sports drink,“ I say again, smiling at him.

For a moment he looks surprised, as if he didn't expect me to smile at him. Then his face softens and he nods.

I don't know what's going on between the three of us. But I know that whatever it is, it can't be ignored. The ventilation system above us keeps rattling, as if mocking us.

I've always loved the hour before practice. That moment when the day spills over into evening and the light outside the clubhouse windows takes on a peculiar softness. Today it was different – bronze, almost like liquid metal poured across the surface of the Vltava.

„Today's just an easy flush-out, clear heads,“ Bromlil said, handing me a notebook with training charts.

I flip through the pages, feeling calmed by that regularity. The curves rise, fall, jagged in places where we're all at our limit. The last page is blank – a blue grid without a single line. It strikes me somehow. As if something ought to be there, but isn't.

Martina brought a set of resistance bands and handed them out with that typical expression of hers – half coach, half mom.

"Gentle stretching, no heroics," she said and winked at everyone. I think she looked at me a little longer, but maybe I'm just imagining it.

Adam and Jirka have already stepped up to the starting blocks. Their laughter bounces off the walls in a strange way, as if the hallway were longer than usual. Today, everything is just a little bit off. My body tells me everything is fine, but I have a weird feeling in my head.

I watch Tom and Viktor tying the ropes. Their hands work in sync, as if they've been doing it their whole lives. The sound of the rope reminds me of something… like a heartbeat under water. Muffled, distant, yet persistent.

Síma flashed past the glass with her phone. I know she's looking for more gossip for her Insta. Fortunately, Veronika stopped her with some question. Good. Some things should stay just between us.

I took a hot tea in a bottle and pressed it to my chest. Beneath it, I feel my heart – everything is as it should be.

When I started recording today's meters in the chart, my hand stopped for a moment. As if something wanted to tell me something. The line I am drawing suddenly made the paper tremble – the thin wall between what is and what could be.

I don't know why, but at that moment I looked at Tom and Viktor. They stood there, backs to me, whispering something to each other. Suddenly, I felt that what I was drawing wasn't just a chart. It's a story. Our story. And something told me it was far from over.

We are sitting here, me, Viktor and Tom, on a bench by the outdoor pool.

The sun is slowly sinking below the horizon, painting everything around in orange and purple. I love this light — how it refracts on the surface, how it embraces our faces. The wind lightly ruffles our hair, dried from practice, yet still carrying that feeling of water on our skin.

None of us is speaking. It's not an awkward silence, it's like we're swimming in our lane next to each other, each at our own pace, yet together. I watch the surface shimmer. It has a calmness to it that feels almost holy to me.

From a distance I hear a tram rushing along the tracks. It rattles the air, but then silence returns. I slowly take a sip of my sports drink. Viktor next to me does too. Tom on the other side is twirling his cup in his hand, as if looking for something deeper in it than just a drink.

“So tomorrow evening,” I whisper, but I don't peel my eyes away from the water. I don't want to see them react. I'm just saying it as if I were sending it off into space.

I feel Viktor place his hand next to mine. He leaves it there, like an offer. Tom will do the same from the other side, but with more hesitation. Three palms on the bench, space between them for air and unsaid things. A bit like when we're getting ready for a synchronized jump – we aren't touching yet, but we feel each other's presence.

The wind brings the scent of grilled fish up from the Vltava. Suddenly I remember that day on the gym roof, how we grilled up there. Back then it felt wild to me. Everything changes so fast I can't even keep up.

I look back toward the summer changing rooms and then up, where the nude beach is. It's empty, the sun is still shining.

"Shall we go up there?" I murmur. I know they know what I mean.

And then it happens—for the first time since we've known each other, all three of us run up the stairs in the exact same rhythm. Nobody says a word, we just go there. Up top, we strip off our swimsuits and turn our bodies to the last rays of the sun.

As if for a moment we've set aside all those roles we play. No Tom, no Viktor, no Tony. Just three bodies, three shadows stretched out by the setting sun.

I close my eyes and for a moment I feel like we're immortal.