Word count: 1172 Warnings: Injury, Some strong language
Imaizumi had fallen off his bike. He had just been racing through the city with Naruko – Onoda and Teshima were somewhere behind them, Aoyagi and Kaburagi somewhere ahead – and now he was lying on the road and his knee and elbow hurt so he must have fallen off his bike.
That was what he thought in the brief second before his memory caught up and sorted through the swirl of sound – laughing then tires screeching then “Hotshot!” then a thud and a grunt and a whimper and then someone yelling for Naruko–
Then himself yelling for Naruko, he realized, his mouth spoke before his conscious brain had figured it out, but oh, the unconscious part must have realized – and then he remembered, and he scrambled to his knees and screamed Naruko’s name again.
“Stop yelling,” came a voice, somewhere close. “Ow.” Imaizumi twisted, looking, throwing off his helmet – and there he was, crumpled on the street, tangled in his bike, not moving, but he’d spoken so – and Imaizumi couldn’t help himself, he said Naruko’s name again, relieved this time, not screaming, crawling and scraping his palms but not caring because–
“What did you do?” he hissed, hovering over Naruko, trying to figure out what he should do, how to help, what happened – “What did you do?”
Naruko laughed, though the sound was more painful than happy. The bike jostled and Naruko’s face went white and he bit back a whimper.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “Ow. Help. Get this thing off me.”
“You pushed me,” Imaizumi said dumbly, just staring.
“Seriously?”
Then Imaizumi blinked and said, “Oh, right,” and reached out to grab the bike, but as he did Naruko’s eyes went wide and he tried to grab at Imaizumi’s arms – he missed, which was somewhat alarming of itself, but Imaizumi froze. They stayed like that for a second, unmoving, a tableau on the side of the road, waiting for something –
And then Naruko exhaled a shaky breath and dropped his head back down and said “M-my leg. It hurts. It – it really – my foot’s still cleated in and – Hotshot. It hurts.”
“Okay,” Imaizumi replied, nodding, hands fluttering, trying to comfort but unsure how. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll get it out.”
“Careful. Please.”
Did Naruko ever say “please”? For anything? “I will.”
When Imaizumi looked, it was obvious which leg Naruko was talking about – from the blood, for one thing, mixing with the gravel in and around his leg, and Imaizumi winced in sympathy because road rash, ouch – but there was also something… off, about the leg, it didn’t look quite right, there was something at the shin that just wasn’t the way it should be, near his ankle – so, very carefully, Imaizumi wrapped one hand around Naruko’s ankle, below the strangeness, for stability – his hand shook, ever so slightly, when Naruko’s breaths came faster and faster – and one hand on the pedal, and Imaizumi knew how to do this, he’d been wearing cleated shoes and pedals since elementary school, he could do this in his sleep – so he took Naruko’s ankle in one hand and the pedal in the other and he twisted them apart. Naruko bit down on his lip, to muffle a whimper, but Imaizumi was able to place the foot gently, gently on the pavement, and he pushed the bike away more roughly, and he shuffled back up to where Naruko’s head was.
“Oh my god!” someone yelled, and there was a crunch of footsteps and the voice got louder. “Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you, I called 119, I’m sorry, are you okay?”
It was the driver of the car, looking panicked and guilty and crouching down to hover over Naruko and Imaizumi swelled with a sudden burst of protectiveness, bolstered by Naruko’s uncomfortable expression, so he put on his best steely face and said, as calmly and dismissively as he could, “Give him space. You already hit him with your car, don’t bother us further.”
The driver jerked back, fidgeting, and after a pause just nodded and stood up and went to go fret over by the car, throwing Imaizumi and Naruko anxious looks at odd intervals. But all Imaizumi needed was the flicker of gratitude in Naruko’s eyes and he knew that he’d done the right thing.
“Do you want to sit up?” A pause. “Can you?”
Naruko groaned. “Yeah. I think so.” Again, Imaizumi’s hands lingered in the dead space between them, unsure of where to go or what to do, but Naruko solved that problem by grabbing onto Imaizumi’s ragged hands with his own and using them as leverage to pull himself up, legs splayed clumsily. He squeezed his eyes tight-shut for a moment – dizziness, or pain, Imaizumi wasn’t sure, so he rearranged himself to sit close behind Naruko and pulled him down, just a little, so that Naruko was leaning against his body. It was uncomfortable, in more ways than one, and Imaizumi wasn’t sure he’d ever felt more awkward in his life, but Naruko sagged against him and sighed.
“Ow,” he said redundantly, then reached up with one hand to rip off his helmet and toss it away. Something about it caught Imaizumi’s eye, though, and without thinking he wrenched himself forward to catch the rolling helmet – Naruko squawked in protest and started to yell “What the f-!” but the curse died on his tongue when Imaizumi showed him the helmet.
“Oh,” he said, then “that explains the headache” with an uneasy laugh.
“Good thing you were wearing it.”
“Yeah.”
Imaizumi stared at the cracked shell and fissures in the polystyrene for another moment, before tossing it away with a shiver. He shifted his weight anxiously and Naruko readjusted a bit and they settled in to wait for the ambulance.
“You’re shaking.”
“It’s cold.”
“It’s not.”
“We almost died.”
That made Imaizumi pause. They’d nearly died.
“You pushed me,” Imaizumi said suddenly. “You pushed me off the road.”
“H-hell, Hotshot, you’re really gonna be mad about that!? He was g-gonna hit you! What’d you expect–”
“No,” Imaizumi interrupted. “I’m not angry. Don’t be stupid.” Naruko made a noise of protest, but Imaizumi ignored him and continued. “He was coming right for me. You saved me.”
And then it was Naruko’s turn to pause and search for words. “Yeah, well,” he started. He was still shaking, but one hand wrapped around Imaizumi’s wrist and squeezed. “Couldn’t just l-let him squish you. O-onoda would be upset.”
“Right.”
“Next time I won’t b-bother!”
Imaizumi’s heart went cold at the thought of next time. “Next time,” he said, resolutely looking away from Naruko, “I’ll save you.”
Naruko made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a giggle. He squirmed uncomfortably against Imaizumi’s side. “I’ll hold you to that, H-hotshot.”
They sat in silence for a minute or two. Then Naruko spoke up again, voice high and uncertain and pained – “Hotshot?”
“Yeah?”
“This sucks.”
Imaizumi shifted his hold around Naruko until it was more like a hug than a brace. “Yeah.”
FILL: TEAM AOYAGI HAJIME/TESHIMA JUNTA, G
Word count: 1172
Warnings: Injury, Some strong language
Imaizumi had fallen off his bike. He had just been racing through the city with Naruko – Onoda and Teshima were somewhere behind them, Aoyagi and Kaburagi somewhere ahead – and now he was lying on the road and his knee and elbow hurt so he must have fallen off his bike.
That was what he thought in the brief second before his memory caught up and sorted through the swirl of sound – laughing then tires screeching then “Hotshot!” then a thud and a grunt and a whimper and then someone yelling for Naruko–
Then himself yelling for Naruko, he realized, his mouth spoke before his conscious brain had figured it out, but oh, the unconscious part must have realized – and then he remembered, and he scrambled to his knees and screamed Naruko’s name again.
“Stop yelling,” came a voice, somewhere close. “Ow.” Imaizumi twisted, looking, throwing off his helmet – and there he was, crumpled on the street, tangled in his bike, not moving, but he’d spoken so – and Imaizumi couldn’t help himself, he said Naruko’s name again, relieved this time, not screaming, crawling and scraping his palms but not caring because–
“What did you do?” he hissed, hovering over Naruko, trying to figure out what he should do, how to help, what happened – “What did you do?”
Naruko laughed, though the sound was more painful than happy. The bike jostled and Naruko’s face went white and he bit back a whimper.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “Ow. Help. Get this thing off me.”
“You pushed me,” Imaizumi said dumbly, just staring.
“Seriously?”
Then Imaizumi blinked and said, “Oh, right,” and reached out to grab the bike, but as he did Naruko’s eyes went wide and he tried to grab at Imaizumi’s arms – he missed, which was somewhat alarming of itself, but Imaizumi froze. They stayed like that for a second, unmoving, a tableau on the side of the road, waiting for something –
And then Naruko exhaled a shaky breath and dropped his head back down and said “M-my leg. It hurts. It – it really – my foot’s still cleated in and – Hotshot. It hurts.”
“Okay,” Imaizumi replied, nodding, hands fluttering, trying to comfort but unsure how. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll get it out.”
“Careful. Please.”
Did Naruko ever say “please”? For anything? “I will.”
When Imaizumi looked, it was obvious which leg Naruko was talking about – from the blood, for one thing, mixing with the gravel in and around his leg, and Imaizumi winced in sympathy because road rash, ouch – but there was also something… off, about the leg, it didn’t look quite right, there was something at the shin that just wasn’t the way it should be, near his ankle – so, very carefully, Imaizumi wrapped one hand around Naruko’s ankle, below the strangeness, for stability – his hand shook, ever so slightly, when Naruko’s breaths came faster and faster – and one hand on the pedal, and Imaizumi knew how to do this, he’d been wearing cleated shoes and pedals since elementary school, he could do this in his sleep – so he took Naruko’s ankle in one hand and the pedal in the other and he twisted them apart. Naruko bit down on his lip, to muffle a whimper, but Imaizumi was able to place the foot gently, gently on the pavement, and he pushed the bike away more roughly, and he shuffled back up to where Naruko’s head was.
“Oh my god!” someone yelled, and there was a crunch of footsteps and the voice got louder. “Oh my god, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you, I called 119, I’m sorry, are you okay?”
It was the driver of the car, looking panicked and guilty and crouching down to hover over Naruko and Imaizumi swelled with a sudden burst of protectiveness, bolstered by Naruko’s uncomfortable expression, so he put on his best steely face and said, as calmly and dismissively as he could, “Give him space. You already hit him with your car, don’t bother us further.”
The driver jerked back, fidgeting, and after a pause just nodded and stood up and went to go fret over by the car, throwing Imaizumi and Naruko anxious looks at odd intervals. But all Imaizumi needed was the flicker of gratitude in Naruko’s eyes and he knew that he’d done the right thing.
“Do you want to sit up?” A pause. “Can you?”
Naruko groaned. “Yeah. I think so.” Again, Imaizumi’s hands lingered in the dead space between them, unsure of where to go or what to do, but Naruko solved that problem by grabbing onto Imaizumi’s ragged hands with his own and using them as leverage to pull himself up, legs splayed clumsily. He squeezed his eyes tight-shut for a moment – dizziness, or pain, Imaizumi wasn’t sure, so he rearranged himself to sit close behind Naruko and pulled him down, just a little, so that Naruko was leaning against his body. It was uncomfortable, in more ways than one, and Imaizumi wasn’t sure he’d ever felt more awkward in his life, but Naruko sagged against him and sighed.
“Ow,” he said redundantly, then reached up with one hand to rip off his helmet and toss it away. Something about it caught Imaizumi’s eye, though, and without thinking he wrenched himself forward to catch the rolling helmet – Naruko squawked in protest and started to yell “What the f-!” but the curse died on his tongue when Imaizumi showed him the helmet.
“Oh,” he said, then “that explains the headache” with an uneasy laugh.
“Good thing you were wearing it.”
“Yeah.”
Imaizumi stared at the cracked shell and fissures in the polystyrene for another moment, before tossing it away with a shiver. He shifted his weight anxiously and Naruko readjusted a bit and they settled in to wait for the ambulance.
“You’re shaking.”
“It’s cold.”
“It’s not.”
“We almost died.”
That made Imaizumi pause. They’d nearly died.
“You pushed me,” Imaizumi said suddenly. “You pushed me off the road.”
“H-hell, Hotshot, you’re really gonna be mad about that!? He was g-gonna hit you! What’d you expect–”
“No,” Imaizumi interrupted. “I’m not angry. Don’t be stupid.” Naruko made a noise of protest, but Imaizumi ignored him and continued. “He was coming right for me. You saved me.”
And then it was Naruko’s turn to pause and search for words. “Yeah, well,” he started. He was still shaking, but one hand wrapped around Imaizumi’s wrist and squeezed. “Couldn’t just l-let him squish you. O-onoda would be upset.”
“Right.”
“Next time I won’t b-bother!”
Imaizumi’s heart went cold at the thought of next time. “Next time,” he said, resolutely looking away from Naruko, “I’ll save you.”
Naruko made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a giggle. He squirmed uncomfortably against Imaizumi’s side. “I’ll hold you to that, H-hotshot.”
They sat in silence for a minute or two. Then Naruko spoke up again, voice high and uncertain and pained – “Hotshot?”
“Yeah?”
“This sucks.”
Imaizumi shifted his hold around Naruko until it was more like a hug than a brace. “Yeah.”