TW: Depictions of a motorcycle crash
WC: 0.6k
A/n: imma just leave this here... :3
It was supposed to be a quick ride.
“C’mon, hop on princess, it’ll be fun.” Matt coos while putting a sleek black helmet in your hands. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip. His smile is boyish, happy- the very smile you give into too quickly.
It’s not that you had a problem with his motorcycle, quite literally the opposite, actually. The rush of air on your arms, the lights that blur past.
It was the gut wrenching feeling of something waiting to go wrong. Your therapist would tell you this is anxiety, but anxiety doesn’t burn the way this does. It’s dark, saying no would be so easy- make perfect sense.
“Atta’ girl,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead before grabbing you a riding jacket.
You wish you had stopped him, had told him another time- hell, maybe never. But the wishful thoughts weren’t enough- that’s all there were- wishes.
“See, isn’t this fun?” Matt laughs, lane splitting through two cars on the freeway, going just over the speed limit. “Matt! Slow down!” You say through nervous laughter, adrenaline and fear coursing through your veins.
Your breath hitches in your throat as he passes past a red truck, the driver flipping you two off. That wasn’t anything new- Matt got flipped off all the time. This time? This time was different.
Maybe this could’ve been prevented if you told him to slow down just one more time.
“Matt, that truck is comin’ real close.” You say nervously, looking back at the red truck speeding up to drive next to Matt’s bike.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, princess, we’ll be good. Yeah? Can’t catch us anyway.” He laughs freely, not bothering to look back at the approaching truck. “Matt!” You hiss, making him look back, truck closer.
The Ford pulls closer before trying to merge into your lane- trying to run you two off the road.
Maybe the truck driver was having a bad day, Matt lane splitting past him the final straw.
Your eyes widen with fear as it happens. Matt isn’t quick enough, the truck swerving into you two, the bike jerking violently as he tries to correct. Death wobbles take over the front tire, except there’s not enough time for the bike to correct itself.
The world tilts on its axis. Rubber burns, engines roar and sparks fly.
“Hold on!” Matt shouts with fear in his voice, why now, why get in a crash tonight?
But the shoulder is too narrow, the metal barriers closing in like teeth.
Sparks fly as his footpeg clips the guardrail. The bike lurches sideways, a sickening metallic scream filling your ears.
You remember the smell of his jacket, cologne and roses. You remember the way his laughter shook his chest under your cheek just minutes ago. You remember how he said, “Atta’ girl,” and pressed a kiss to your forehead like nothing could ever touch you.
Your stomach drops, helmet slamming forward as the world flips end over end. A flash of red taillights, a smear of stars overhead, the distant echo of Matt shouting your name before impact.
Pain blooms across your chest as Matt slams into you, hugging tightly as you two slide against the concrete.
You wish you’d told him another time. You wish you’d said no. But wishes don’t stop steel from bending, or bones from breaking.
And now, all you can do is pray you both open your eyes again.
