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Rascal ReportThe sun was just about to set below the horizon, dipping past the thin, whispy clouds. The skies were still blue, but dusted with pinks and oranges that stretched behind the darkening silhouettes of tall buildings and high-rises.
A bright red motorcycle weaved deftly among the throng of people, zipping past high school students on their way to the arcade after class and adults loosening their ties after long hours of work. Bleached blond hair and blue uniform shirt tousled in the wind, leaving nothing behind except a trail of dirt and angered people.
Freedom, Minwoo thought happily. The cold rush of air against his bare arms and the stinging pain on his brow and lip only amplified his contentment. His clutch on the handles of his motorcycle loosened as he relaxed and slowed down, taking in the sights of the neighbourhood he hated so much. He had nowhere to be, after all--no curfew to follow when there's no one waiting for him back at home--so he figured he'd take his sweet, sweet time.
As he neared the local park, the shouts from the baseball team could be heard. They were from another school, he knew, as their uniforms were of a deeper blue than the ones from his. Minwoo saw them often during his rides around town--they were very diligent in their practice. It made him smile, slightly, at their wholehearted and earnest hard work. A sincerity he believes the majority of the people lacked and--
"Foul!"
"Oh -- Watch out!"
--deep in thought, Minwoo failed to notice the white ball speeding towards him, alarmingly close--
A sharp pain erupted in his right shoulder just before he toppled off his bike and the world faded to black.
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"Thank god, you're awake! Don't move--I'll get you some water--"
Minwoo cracked one eye open slowly, unable to ignore the relentless pounding in his head nor the sharp pain in his shoulder any longer. The sky was already dark, stars twinkling down at him--laughing at him? The cold bit at his bare arms and neck, and offhandedly Minwoo wished he wore more that day.
Someone was pushing him up, into a sitting position, gently nudging him and offering a bottle of water. Sluggishly, Minwoo drank the liquid, feeling it run down the inside of his parched throat. The bitter taste of iron at the back of his mouth snapped him awake, a flurry of sudden movement and flailing limbs as he tried to stand up and look for his beloved motorcycle.
The crippling pain in his shoulder and his head brought him immediately back down onto the park bench.
"Don't move! You might hurt yourself more," a voice chastised, large hands pushing him down into a lying position again. Minwoo hated them--these hands--and his back on the bench. It made him feel so vulnerable and weak.
"..." he groaned, gripping his shoulder.
"See?"
"Where's my bike?"
The stranger pointed to somewhere close by, out of Minwoo's field of vision.
"I leaned it against the tree. I think it should be fine, maybe one or two scratches on the paint. You hit the ground pretty hard, and smacked your head on the cement."
"I was hit 'pretty hard' with a baseball," Minwoo snorted, cursing under his breath a little.
"Yeah... Sorry about that. I'm not too good at controlling my swings yet," the stranger said meekly. He must be a rookie from that baseball team in dark blue, Minwoo realized. "Oh, man, when I saw the baseball fly right at you I knew I was doomed. You were doomed, too, I suppose. You got hit and I'm certain I heard a crack or something and you flew a little off your bike before falling like a dead weight onto the road and your bike toppled and I thought for sure you were a goner and my teammates did too so they scrammed and sure enough you were uncon--"
"I'm fine, thank you for your concern," Minwoo snapped bitterly. He massaged his shoulder gingerly, feeling for any broken bones, and sighed in relief when he found it was only swollen. Really swollen. "I'll be going now."
He attempted to peel himself off the wooden bench again, but as soon as he was upright his vision began to swim. Minwoo toppled onto the stranger for support, gripping the side of his head in agony. He felt something trail between his fingers, wetting his scalp and matting his hair. In horror, he stares at the red on his palm.
"Oh, god! I guess you hit your head a lot harder than I thought," the other boy exclaimed in a jovial kind of way. No , Minwoo wanted to spit, but couldn't find the energy to even groan, let alone make sarcastic remarks. "I'll, uh, I'll walk you back home. I'd walk you to mine but I live in another city--"
"No... Don't come home with me... I'm fine..." Minwoo swatted the stranger away, standing up again. He craned his neck around, looking for his beloved red motorcycle. His head was pounding, his shoulder was screaming in agony, and he could feel the beginnings of a warm trickle down the side of his temple--but as soon as he reached his bike, the world felt fine.
He kicked back the support, missing a few times, and pulled it away from the tree. He'd check for damage later. He braced himself, preparing to climb on and race away, when he felt frantic hands grabbing his shoulders. Minwoo hissed in pain, immediately losing his grip on the handles.
"What the ?!"
", I'm sorry! I forgot about your shoulder but please don't ride home!" the stranger reasoned, voice raised, trying to pull him away from the motorcycle. "You'll get hit by a truck or something, I bet--"
"Jesus Christ, would you just leave me alone?!" Minwoo struggled with all his might. He was somehow locked in the other's arms, and his feet barely brushed the ground. In normal circumstances he would've already broken free and delivered a beating to the taller boy, but his swimming vision and swollen shoulder reminded him he wasn't exactly in tip-top shape. "Just let me go! Scram home and we'll forget this happened and maybe next time I pass by you and your ty little sports team I wouldn't have to beat you to a pulp for harassment--we don't even know each other--Let. Me. Go!"
The boy dropped him promptly, and crossed his arms. Minwoo realized how much colder it was now, and shivered from the sudden lack of body heat.
"I'm worried you might get hurt on the way home. I doubt you can even see straight in your condition, nevermind ride a goddamn motorcycle. Just let me walk you home so I don't feel as bad and then it'll be all good."
Minwoo grimaced, knowing the other was right. As much as he hated to admit, he was bone-tired and numb and could barely stay upright. He sighed in defeat.
"...fine." He frowned a little, childishly, but knew it would be invisible in the night. "Let's go."
Somehow, even with the lack of light, the stranger's face lit up happily.
"My name is Eric, and you are?"
"...Minwoo."
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They walked side by side, Minwoo pushing his bike and Eric always a foot away, in case he passes out. He drew conversation out of a reluctant Minwoo so easily that he became worried the other boy might've been taking advantage of him. His energy was endless, and eventually Minwoo opened up, mumbling quiet responses to whatever Eric was blathering about at the time.
"What's your school like?"
"It's ty."
"Oh, okay. Mine is alright, I guess." Minwoo grunted in response. Eric continues, "the sports teams are pretty killer, though. Do you play any sports?"
"Picking off trash."
"I see. I'm pretty new on the baseball team but..." Eric went on and on. Minwoo found it conforting--a relaxed conversation is one he hasn't had in a long time.
As they walked towards his home, Minwoo felt growing apprehension tighten in his chest. He lived in the bad side of town, and had a ty father who was either out getting laid or home getting drunk. Nobody needed to know--he didn't want pity. It was such a shame for him, and he never wanted anyone to find out--not even a kid from another school, another town.
Another walk of life.
"Hey, are you feeling alright? I mean, besides the obvious messed up shoulder and bleeding head and all," Eric's voice piped up.
Minwoo was supporting himself with his motorcycle so much that he was practically slouched over its red frame. He could feel his consciousness slipping away, his eyelids drooping fast.
"I'm fiiiiiiiiine," Minwoo drawled, slurring his words together. "We're aaaalmost there... Just another block..."
"How about you get on your bike and I'll push you both back home? It's not far. What number is it?" Eric laid a hand over Minwoo's, causing him to halt.
"...19..."
"Alright."
Eric wrapped his arms around the other, heaving him onto the motorcycle. Minwoo slumped forward over the dashboard, out like a light. With a huff, Eric placed his hands on either side of the sleeping boy, and gripped the handlebars tightly. He started to push the bike slowly, careful not to jostle the other awake.
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Minwoo cracked one eye open slowly. His head was still pounding like a bastard, his shoulder still throbbing. The sun was starting to rise, glowing pink behind the dark silhouettes of sleeping apartments and rundown houses. He noticed he wasn't very cold, despite the early morning temperatures.
"Good morning," said someone to his left. Minwoo yelped, and tore his head away from Eric's shoulder. He had fallen asleep leant against the boy all night, he realized with horror. There was a stain of dried blood--and what might've been a splotch of saliva--on the sleeve of his baseball uniform. Minwoo felt heat pool in his cheeks, face all red.
"Wh-wh-what are you doing here?!" Minwoo accused, wrapping a damn baseball jacket--his baseball jacket--tighter around himself. Eric grinned at him, shamelessly.
"I walked you home, remember? You were hurt! You passed out and I towed your motorcycle and you alllll the way back home," he crowed. "I knocked and nobody answered. I checked under your mats too--y'know, for the house keys."
"You could've dumped me here and went home," Minwoo muttered, face still pink with embarrassment.
"And what, leave you all alone out in the cold? Who'd do that?!" The other boy looked offended, almost comical.
Minwoo balked at this stupidly simple boy before him. He was convinced Eric would turn out to be some sort of hoodlum and he'd wake up with a kidney missing and stitches down his side. Who willingly helps out someone in need like that?
"Well, yeah." Minwoo slowly eased himself off his creaking front steps, dusting off Eric's jacket before tossing it back to him. "Whatever. You've helped me out twice now, I guess."
"I also smacked that baseball at you in the first place," Eric pointed out. He also stood up, slipping his jacket on and covering the bloodied sleeve. Minwoo grimaced slightly.
"Right. I'd, uh. I'd offer to wash your uniform for you, as a thank-you for helping me out... twice," he paused, before lowering his head, ashamed. "...But I don't have detergent." He waited for the dirty gasp, the bitter pity, the endless accusations and questions. How do you wash your clothes? Are you needy? Why are your living conditions so poor?
A hand smacked him on his good shoulder, before gingerly messing up his hair, careful to avoid his wounds.
"Don't worry about it, I'll handle this." Eric smiled at Minwoo, and unknowingly made him feel so lame. The warmth crawled back up to his face, and he swore at himself. Since when did he become a love struck fool?
"Besides, your little pout back in the park was cute--that's even enough for me."
"What?! I did not 'pout'!" Inwardly, Minwoo was aghast. He thought his little childish fit would go unnoticed but he was not expecting a pout--
Eric merely laughed heartily. What a jerk, Minwoo thought. I should've beat him to a pulp back in the park when I had the chance.
"I'll, uh, be going home now," he mumbled, quickly turning around and fumbling in his back pocket for his house keys.
"I'll be going too, then. Take care!" Eric started down the steps, waving as he left. "Oh, and I'll see you at the park during practice from now on, yeah?"
Minwoo thought he could die.
"Yeah, sure. Bye." He hastily jumped into his house, slamming the door behind him. He could hear the other boy's laughter through the wood as he walked away. Minwoo trudged upstairs to his room, before peeking between the curtains of his window.
Eric caught the sight of his bleached blond hair, and waved happily in reurn. Heart thumping hard and face beet-red, Minwoo stubbornly pulled the curtains closed and burrowed into his bed.
Somehow, the neighbourhood seemed a lot nicer when he knew Eric was a part of it. The feeling made his migraine tolerable, and his arm numb to the pain. A smile he hasn't made in a long time graced his face.
"...jerk."
laughs
all my plots escalate so quickly
like boom now they're bfs oops
Consider this a sort of prequel to 'YO!'?
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ
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