He remembered, vaguely, waking up from a motorcycle accident a few moments ago, which should have been revelation enough. He was always so ridiculously careful on that thing that the idea of an accident disturbed him greatly.
The doctors had been polite, going over the minimal damage with their glistening spectacles and explaining he'd be fine in no time. The brunt of the force had hit him in the chest, and left a burn that seemed completely and utterly baffling. It certainly wasn't from a seat belt of any kind. There'd been some head trauma, a little bit of street shrapnel in the back. For a traffic accident, he'd practically come away without a scratch.
It added to the bazaar moment when a hospital volunteer stepped into the room.
She was stunningly beautiful, with long elegant legs and a cute little rabbit on her school bag. He'd been struck, almost immediately, by those soulful blue eyes and sweet mouth. It wasn't that she was familiar; that truly would have pushed the moment into the twilight zone. He could never have forgotten a face like that no matter how hard someone hit him in the head.
Still, his options had been limited significantly in the first few moments by adrenaline. Clinically, he could almost see his brainstem fire up, the fight or flight response flicker in warning.
She was gorgeous, and that soft smile could melt anyone's heart. The gentleness of her movements as she sat and touched his hand sent a charred, burning ember deep into the skin. Her name, so strangely fantastical, cemented somewhere far in the back of his mind even though he frantically fought to regain some sort of control over the situation.
He had so many things he still wanted to do! Falling for a girl had never been on the list, and frankly the idea of it scared the living hell out of him. Where would he fit it in? How could he? Was he even capable of it all? More importantly, was she?
Now, don't misunderstand the thought that broke through his mind like a train wreck. He'd never been one to play geeky basement games wearing a cape or anything. Heck, he'd never had enough friends to consider such a thing. The idea of having people close made his flesh crawl and bile to rise in the back of his throat. People belonged on the other side of the fence, except perhaps Motoki, but even he had a limited pass.
That's why he chose flight.
"Those look like Odangos." He'd snapped, knowing even in the moment that the girl practically had a flashing sign over her head.
'In accordance to the prophecy…' it began.
Oh, he'd run like hell.
….
Just a silly little thought that wouldn't stop bugging me. I'm going to try to have the second Drunken story up this weekend, but well, you know me.
E