This is designed to be a multi-chapter fic but i'm not promising anything on how often it will be updated.
I am aware that there is already a cross country AU written by therentyoupay and I have made an effort to make this fic very different to avoid any clashing. Cross country season will be finishing when this plot starts so that will be one large difference in itself. If you haven't read therentyoupay's Personal Record, I highly recommend it because it is an absolutely incredible read. If you're still worried, she has given me permission to post this fic.
Blood sang under his skin and created a frenetic rhythm that propelled him forward. His footfalls raised clouds of dust that swirled around the skin of his calves. Every impact from his strides rose up from his legs to his skull. Even though it felt like he was dying, he knew with every fiber of his being that he was flying.
The burn of his lungs under his chest, the dull throb with every timed extension of his legs, and the whirlwind of activity at the back of his mind calculating pace and competition—it balanced in a consuming state of being. The dusty air in his throat and the sharp cry of triumph held between his tongue and the roof of his mouth—it belonged to him.
Here, Tahno was king. He could hear the persistent scuff of racing flats, labored breathing, and a seething frustration directed towards him, the leader of the pack. Tahno's primal smirk unfurled, untouched by the slow drip of sweat between his lips that tasted like salt and adrenaline. He wore the scream in his limbs around his head like a scorching crown.
Catch me if you can.
The press of uphill under the balls of his feet signified pain and if he had the breath to laugh he would have crowed a challenge. Is that all you have? I want to see you try and break me. I want to see you fail.
But he didn't because Tahno didn't get here by being foolish at important moments. Whatever anyone said about him, he knew racing strategy better than his own name. At least, in moments like these he did.
When he was caught up in the physical rush and chaotic balance of his mind during races, his name wasn't important unless people were screaming it. He made his last curve with elbows tucked, arms pumping, and body leaning at the perfect angle- there it was.
The world flooded from the disjointed focus into detail. The flickering plastic streamers in the air, the gradual slope of dust he was about to set churning, the roiling mass of colored bibs and the people that began to scream at the sight of him, it called him.
The last spurt of adrenaline kicked in to chase away the bite of pain and his knees pumped higher. His feet were hardly touching the earth and he thought to himself: Let's see what you've got. Let's see if you deserve this.
He'd just begun to make out the faces when it all went to hell.
Something had disrupted his stride. The cadence of body straining over trail had been all that existed and now he was lost in panicked confusion at this in-between state. He reeled because this wasn't part of the plan. He wasn't in control. What is this, whatisthis—
The complaints his body had been hissing to him under the press of his will came up in a wave of vengeance. And then there was an anchor, pulling him back down—
It began as a burn in the back of his knee like the electric flare of a flame. He was moving closer and closer to the ground below but the pain was building along the taut line of muscle that was bearing the strain. It seared and tightened underneath his skin. The line pressed up against the over-stretched flesh with the intent to release and he felt his mouth open in a howl—
Fibers began to fray and the logic the back of his mind was screaming along
pleasestoppleasestoppleasepleasestoppleasenopleaseno
A final rip that tore more than just his knee, burning darkness, and a mouth of dirt pressing cuts into his gums, yelling but the wrong kind because why would they yell with their king in the mud?
Tahno woke to the stench of chemical against his nose and the scratch of synthetic fabric beneath his cheek. Unnatural white light shone above him when he cracked open his eyes. He shifted with unresponsive muscles and felt a hot metal brace heated by his skin clamped over his right lower half.
There was a dull haze that had crept through his mind that made it strenuous to reach for memory and reason.
The meet.
He jolted upright and his skin pinched against the blunt edges of the metal. He looked side to side in the room at the lone IV- thank god it wasn't hooked up to him or he really would have gone ballistic- and the blocky tv set up on a plastic stand. Where was he? The last memory of branding pain washed over him and a dread so thick rose in his throat that he wanted to retch it up.
The door swung open and a man with a craggy wrinkled face and a crisp white coat walked in. The sound of footsteps echoed strangely in Tahno's ears. Everything felt strange: this place, these people, and above all his own body. A nurse followed behind, the obnoxious shade of her purple scrubs made all the worse by the contrast of the white room.
The man drew up beside Tahno's cot and stood carefully still, as though trying not to startle him. Tahno held back a sneer, denying the venomous part of him that was far too prideful and far too scared to be of any help in this situation. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't scared but that didn't mean he was going to let on just how hard his pulse was hammering in his temples.
"Hello, young man." The voice was deep and placating. Tahno just stared up. There was too much crazy in him to respond to something as neutral as greeting; especially a greeting like that.
"You've had a rough time of it."
Tahno let out a sharp burst of laughter that sounded more like a bark of fury. He leaned his head back against the thinly padded pillow and stared at the ceiling.
"How long till I'm running?"
He'd asked a question but it came out like a statement with the old weight of his certainty. Because it couldn't be that bad. Nothing could be bad enough to keep him away from running. Furthermore, nothing that bad ever happened to someone like Tahno. If there ever had been someone like Tahno.
The doctor said nothing and Tahno flicked his blurry gaze back to him. Now a hint of hysteria colored his voice as the pitying eyes framed by long routs of leathery wrinkles just stared. "How long till I'm running?"
"We think you've torn your anterior cruciate ligament and strained your posterior cruciate ligament. It's hard to say when you'll have full faculty of your—"
"How long till I'm running?"
The doctor tried to smile but it just looked like a grimace of coffee yellowed teeth and suddenly Tahno felt about four inches tall and fragile enough to be crushed. A steady hand clapped him on the shoulder and he flinched away. "Get some rest, son."
The door shutting with a click barely registered in Tahno's mind as he stared at the blank wall, consciousness creeping back to leave him searching for answers.