Day 20: "Through the Hurt"
Whumptober 2024 Prompt: Pain
Yachi Hitoka wasn't built for this. She wasn't built for blood pounding in her ears, for the sharp sting of gravel scraping her palms, or for the throb of pain shooting up her leg. But here she was, trying to get up, to move, to breathe through the pain that was making her feel like her bones had shattered.
"Yachi!"
Bokuto's voice broke through the haze clouding her vision. It was desperate, panicked, but hearing it gave her something to hold onto. She tried to push herself up again, but her leg gave out beneath her, and a sharp cry escaped her lips before she could stop it.
The pain was blinding, every nerve in her body screaming as she collapsed back to the ground, breathing hard. Her head spun, and she clenched her fists, nails digging into her skin, trying to ground herself. She couldn't think—couldn't even remember how she ended up here on the pavement, but her leg hurt so much, she didn't care.
In an instant, Bokuto was beside her, his strong arms wrapping around her trembling form. His hands were shaking as he gently cradled her face, eyes wide with concern. "Hitoka, I'm here! What happened? You're bleeding!"
Yachi tried to focus, tried to say something to reassure him, but the pain was overwhelming, pressing down on her chest like a weight she couldn't lift. "I-It hurts…" she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.
"I know, I know," Bokuto murmured, his voice cracking with worry as his fingers brushed through her hair. "It's okay, I'm here. You're gonna be okay. I'll get help."
His hands moved to her leg, where the source of her pain throbbed with every heartbeat. The sight of her ankle—swollen and bent at a strange angle—made Bokuto pale. His breath hitched, but he quickly swallowed his panic, knowing that breaking down wouldn't help her.
He tore his gaze away from the injury and focused on Yachi's face, his heart aching at the tears welling in her eyes. He hated seeing her in pain like this—hated feeling helpless to make it go away. "I'll fix this, okay? Just hold on."
Bokuto fumbled for his phone, dialing for help with one hand while keeping the other on her shoulder, as if his touch alone could keep her safe. But Yachi's grip tightened on his shirt, her small hands clinging to him as if she was afraid to let go.
"Don't… leave," she whimpered, her voice trembling as fresh tears slipped down her cheeks.
Bokuto's heart clenched. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised, his voice soft but firm. "I'm staying right here with you, Hitoka. I'll never leave you."
He finished the call quickly, dropping his phone and pulling Yachi into his arms, being careful of her injured leg. Her head rested against his chest, and he could feel her shaking—whether from fear or pain, he didn't know. But he was shaking too, his mind racing with panic.
How did this happen? How did Yachi get hurt?
She had been walking home after a late volleyball meeting, texting him like usual, when she tripped, falling off the edge of the curb. The fall itself wouldn't have been so bad, but the way she landed on her ankle had been all wrong. Now the pain shot through her with every small movement, and she could barely breathe from the pressure.
"I-I tripped," Yachi whispered, as if reading his mind. "I didn't see… and it just—" She winced, the memory of the fall making her chest tighten with shame. "I'm sorry."
Bokuto blinked, shaking his head. "What? No! Don't apologize! It's not your fault!" His voice cracked with emotion, and he tightened his grip around her, as if holding her closer would somehow take away her pain.
Yachi's lips quivered, her face buried against his chest, and Bokuto felt helpless. She was always so small, so fragile, and seeing her hurt like this made his heart ache in a way he couldn't explain. He wasn't used to feeling so powerless, so unable to fix things. He wanted to protect her from everything, but this—this was something he couldn't just punch away or smile through.
All he could do was be there for her. And right now, that had to be enough.
"It hurts so much…" Yachi whispered, her voice raw, the words shaky.
"I know," Bokuto murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry, Hitoka. I wish I could take the pain for you."
Yachi let out a weak laugh, the sound strained. "That's silly," she said, her breath hitching as another wave of pain hit her. "You can't."
"Doesn't mean I wouldn't try," Bokuto replied softly, his thumb brushing away the tears from her cheeks. "I hate seeing you like this."
Yachi didn't respond, just pressed herself further into his chest, seeking the warmth and comfort he always provided. The pain was still there—sharp and unrelenting—but with Bokuto holding her, she could almost pretend that it wasn't so bad. Almost.
The sound of approaching sirens cut through the night, and Bokuto's grip on Yachi tightened protectively, even as relief washed over him. Help was coming. But even as he reassured her that everything would be okay, Bokuto couldn't shake the gnawing ache in his chest.
He had failed to protect her from this.
When the paramedics arrived, Bokuto refused to leave Yachi's side. He stayed with her, holding her hand tightly as they carefully placed her on the stretcher, his heart breaking every time she winced or cried out in pain.
"You're so strong, Hitoka," Bokuto whispered, his voice trembling as they prepared to take her to the hospital. "I'm so proud of you. Just hold on a little longer, okay?"
Yachi nodded weakly, her fingers squeezing his hand as the paramedics lifted the stretcher and wheeled her away. Bokuto followed them, never letting go, his heart heavy with the weight of what had happened. He didn't know how to make it better—didn't know how to take away the pain she was feeling—but he would stay with her, through every moment of it.
Because he loved her.
And he wouldn't let her go through this alone.