'Rough Touch'
(( 12. My muse slams yours against a wall hard. ))// It’s a little long because I wanted the situation to make sense! You don’t have to reply with this much writing :3 //
Lawrence was on edge, and he had been all day. He wasn’t exactly sure, but maybe it was the fact that all his friends were disappearing that made him antsy and paranoid. He had gone to the bar in hopes that the familiar warmth of alcohol would help calm his nerves, but somehow it had only made him more anxious. Odd.
Lawrence went outside for a breath of fresh air. He leaned against the bar’s front windows, tipped his head back and closed his eyes. It was an extraordinarily nice evening. Somewhere off in the neighboring woods Lawrence could swear he heard the distant hoot of an owl. Lawrence took a deep breath. He was alone.
…Or was he?
There was a sudden rustling from beside him. Lawrence’s eyes shot open and he immediately pushed the stranger he spotted into the brick wall of the nearby florists’. It was a very strong push, too; The stranger collided with the wall with a very harsh /thump!/.
Vic released a yelp in pain as his spine made harsh contact with the wall, his breath escaping him from the blow. His cane he had to walk on here had flung from his hands and skidded across the ground far from his reach. As for Vic, he landed on the ground on his left side, applying pressure to his bad leg. This caused even more pain to shoot through him, making him yell and clutch his lower left thigh instinctively.
He tried to get up from his position by using the wall for support, but only managed to stagger and fall onto his stomach. Vic groaned lowly, refusing to move another inch from the swelling pain in both his back and now his leg. He shifted his head onto one side and wheezed harshly. He had no idea what just happened. Did he trip? Was he shoved?
Vic raised his head and tried to look for someone for help, but found it a tad difficult to see straight. He seemingly gave up then, resting his head back onto the ground, panting and wheezing painfully.
Lawrence blinked, staring at his hands, then at the man on the ground. It had all happened before he had realized what was happening, and now all at once everything registered. He’d shoved this man, a stranger who had done nothing wrong to him, and now the stranger lay on the ground, incapacitated and seemingly unable to get back on his feet.
It appeared as though the man hadn’t seen Lawrence yet. Of course, Lawrence’s first instinct was to help the man - he seemed to be in an immense amount of pain, after all. But a nagging voice in the back of his head made him aware of the fact that Lawrence could just as easily leave and escape any trouble.
He quickly stomped that idea down, frowning inwardly with shame. Lawrence hurriedly stepped toward the stranger and kneeled. He reached out a hand to check the stranger’s pulse, but halted it midway and pulled it back. He didn’t want to touch the man again, for fear of only causing him more harm. Instead, Lawrence spoke to him.
“Hey, um…are you…are you alright?” He cringed at himself, realizing instantly that it was a stupid question.
Vic heard someone approach him, then ask if he was alright. He open his blurry eyes to see a fellow Sniper, or so he thought he did, but of a team color deeper than a normal Blu teams. He was unaware that there were other teams as well, but it did not surprise him too much.
Vic noticed the anxiety in the others tone; Perhaps he saw what happened? Or was he the one who had done it? In either way, he did not blame the Sniper if he did. Things happen, especially accidents. He seemed on edge by the look of him and felt sorry for the Sniper.
“I..I am alright,” Vic wheezed, “just vhinded und…”Vic trailed off as he attempted to sit up, only to plop back down on the ground. He coughed a bit before realizing that he was not getting up anytime soon without help. “V-vhould you mind..giving me a hand, bitte? I..I cannot get up..on meine own.” Vic winced slightly as his left leg and back ached more from his attempt to move off the ground.
“Vhere…vhere is meine cane?” He questioned, realizing that after feeling for it meekly with his right hand. It must have flung away from him when…whatever took place happened. He huffed a sigh and remained on the ground, wheezing with each breath as he waited patiently for the other to possibly help him.
Lawrence released a huge sigh of relief when the man, (a medic by the looks of it), finally spoke, albeit with some trouble. He didn’t sound angry at all, either, which confirmed Lawrence’s suspicions that he was unaware that it had been Lawrence who pushed him. Or…maybe he was just very forgiving? The sniper wasn’t sure. Either way, Lawrence was grateful the man wasn’t yelling at him for what he’d done. It’s significantly harder to help someone when they’re being aggressive.
Lawrence watched as the man tried to get up. “Oh…o-of course,” he said when the medic asked for assistance. “Um, how much can you move your arms? Can you hold them out to me?”
A cane, what cane? Lawrence hadn’t seen one. The man had been holding a cane? The sniper glanced around the medic, but to no avail; there wasn’t a cane in sight. “I’ll be right back,” Lawrence assured the man, pushing off the ground and back into a standing position. He wandered in search of the object, remaining in the immediate area in case the medic called for him.
Two minutes later he returned, the cane in his hands. It was slightly scratched, but the damage was barely noticeable. He handed it back to the other man with an apologetic smile. “It had slid under the bar’s dumpster during your fall,” the sniper explained. “I’m really very sorry about that.” Lawrence held out a hand to the medic.
“I can move meine arms,” Vic stated calmly, “It’s using zhem to lift myself up zhats zhe problem.” He coughed into his arm a few times and cleared his throat. “Und ja, I believe I can hold zhem out.” Vic shifted his left leg a bit and hissed through his teeth. The pain had doubled significantly from him landing on it with all his weight. “Ach!” Vic cringed, “meine leg is..anozher story. I-I do not zhink I can stand on it.”
He had heard the other say that he would be right back. Hopefully not too far Vic thought to himself, his heart fluttered a little with worry. He lifted his head up and blinked through the blurriness in his vision. I must have hit the wall pretty hard he rationalized, settling his head back down on the ground with a wheezed sigh. He stayed still for a bit and waited for the Sniper to return with his cane.
Vic heard footsteps return to him, then heard the Sniper explain how the cane had slid under a dumpster nearby when he fell. He had not remembered seeing any dumpster, so it must have flown a considerable distance from his grasp. When he heard the Sniper apologize, he then concluded that he was indeed shoved by this man. He must have scared him by approaching him without a proper hello. Vic looked up at the Sniper, his expression fading to sorrow.
“No need to apologize,” Vic began, “It vas meine fault for sneaking up on you in zhe first place.” He took the cane from the Sniper gently, positioning it underneath him firmly with his left hand and grasping the Sniper’s hand with his right.
It took a great deal of effort, but once Lawrence shifted his position so that he could help to gently push the medic up with one hand on his back and sturdy him the other, which the medic held, he was able to get the man hoisted up onto his feet. Keeping him on his feet, however, was a whole different problem. The medic had mentioned how he didn’t think he would be able to stand on his leg, and Lawrence should have known to take the practitioner’s word. Even if few medics Lawrence met actually did have valid medical licenses, they always knew better than a sniper when it came to injuries.
“Your fault?” Lawrence said, sounding surprised. “No, no. It was mine. I didn’t mean to, I just- things have just been tough lately. Well, not tough, but strange. Just really odd.” The sniper frowned inwardly. He had a bad habit of rambling.
“Oh, don’t fall!” He scrambled to keep the other man on his feet, pulling one of the medic’s arms around his shoulders so he could remain upright. “Not again, at least,” he said jokingly. Then he quickly sobered up, realizing it wasn’t right to joke at the other’s expense.
“This shouldn’t have all happened,” Lawrence said, sighing. “All I do is hurt people. I don’t even know your name!”
Once Vic was on his feet, he staggered a little as he tried to find a good position to stand. He was thankful for the Sniper’s help in supporting him both off the ground and keeping him upright. Although he was relatively sore, it did not prevent him from smiling softly with relief for being off the ground. Leaning on his cane, he began to listen to the fellow speak to him.
Vic concentrated on the Sniper, softly nodding as the stranger told him how it was all his fault. He gave the Sniper a comforting smile, “I understand. People have done far vorse for much less zhan zhat. I do not fault you for your actions. Besides, vhy make a new enemy vhen you can make a new friend?” He chuckled softly, which caused him to cough roughly into his fist.
Vic shifted the wrong way onto his left, causing him to falter a bit with a pained hiss through his teeth. He felt the other move quickly to help keep him from falling, feeling his right arm move over the Sniper’s shoulders for balance. Vic huffed softly through his nose with a smile at the light joke the other made, “Ja, zhat vould be bad.”
His expression fell when he heard the stranger explain how this should have not happened, how he always seemed to hurt others. “You can alvays change zhat about yourself,” Vic began, “All you need to do is give yourself zhe opportunity to do so.”
He looked at the other and gave him a kind smile, “Meine names Victor by zhe vay, but you may call me Vic. Shall ve go inside? I do not zhink you vould vant to stand around all night und hold me.” Vic chuckled, “As romantic as zhat sounds!” He laughed wholeheartedly for a good few minutes, then wound up coughing from the strain.
Lawrence was grateful for how forgiving Vic was being. Plus, he found the man's logic infallible - after all, it did make sense to try to get on even a stranger's good side. Especially since enough enemies are made on the battlefield. The sniper decided to mentally pocket the medic's tidbit of wisdom.
He was relieved when Vic cracked a joke and laughed. In all honesty, he was shocked at how easily the man had recovered enough to joke around. Lawrence knew that he probably wouldn't have been so forgiving if he'd been in the medic's place.
He cringed when the medic began coughing again. It didn't sound pleasant, and Lawrence felt sorry for Vic. He waited patiently for Vic's coughing to come to a stop, then smiled.
"I would love to go inside." He offered a hand. "Name's Lawrence, by the way. And, uh, drink's on me. I know it's not enough to make up for hurting you, but..." Lawrence shrugged sheepishly. He hoped a little alcohol would help the medic with his pain.
"I've already had a few drinks," Lawrence said, helping Vic inside. "But I have a pretty high tolerance. A few more can't hurt."
