My Hero ꕤ｡˚⋆ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
Summary: Wayne saves you and you patch him up
Busted concrete crunched under my grimy converse as I walked home from another mind-numbing day at school. It was cold, with bitter wind nipping at my cheeks and nose, turning them pink and raw. My hands were buried in the pockets of my jacket in a useless attempt to hold on to whatever warmth I could.
I walked on in bored shivering misery until I noticed a group of guys huddled on the sidewalk ahead of me. Their figures were slouched, with smoke rising from cigarettes pinched in their fingers and clouding the air around them. There were four of them, looking at me as I looked back. My stomach sank a little and my pace slowed as I noticed how their conversation fizzled out when they caught sight of me.
"Hey sexy!" One of them called as the group started towards me. I quickly looked away, veering to cross the worn-down street.
"Bitch! We know you heard us!" Another yelled, "Come on over and keep us warm! We'll treat you reeeeaal nice." They snickered at that as they lurked behind me, following me across the street.
I started walking faster when I noticed how close they were getting, so they started walking faster too.
"We just wanna get to know you." One purred, close enough now he didn't need to shout. I glanced over my shoulder, taking in their patchy stumble and yellow teeth, before breaking into a sprint. A flurry of angry shouts erupted behind me as I ran.
It took less than a few steps for them to catch up, grabbing my backpack and yanking me towards them. They surrounded me from all sides as I looked at them with ragged breath and terrified eyes.
"HEL-" I tried screaming before one of them clasped a dirty hand over my mouth from behind, pinning me to him. He smelled like sour sweat and bad breath. I kicked and thrashed hard enough to make him stumble, but not hard enough to get him to let me go. They all laughed at my pathetic attempts.
The fear had began to press down on me from all sides when out of the blue a chunk of ice hit one of the men in the temple. His laughter was cut short as his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell to his knees, then to the ground with a thud.
We all looked to the road, where a boy around my age stood holding another chunk of ice. Wayne.
"You little..." One of the men muttered, stalking towards Wayne before another chunk of ice went flying towards his head, except this time it clipped off its target's ear. The man paused for a moment, before chuckling, "Your dead."
The two left standing charged Wayne, who only managed to land one punch before being pummeled by the other guy. Wayne hit the ground as his second victim stumbled back with a broken nose. The victim of Wayne's punch cupped his face, which was dripping blood. At the sight of this the man holding onto me cursed and pushed me away, he rushed towards Wayne in a fury joined by the guy with the busted nose.
Knowing this was my chance, I snatched my backpack off the ground and bolted to the house nearby. I slung my backpack over their fence, continously glancing over my shoulder as I used a trashcan to scramble into their yard. All of the men's focus was on bludgeoning Wayne. I landed in the yard and peered through a crack in the fence, panting.
I flinched as I watched them land kick after kick, hit after hit. The sound made me sick. "Get up Wayne," I muttered to myself hopelessly, "Get up." But it was no use, the fight was three against one. They gave him a chance to get up once, allowing him to shakily push up of the ground, only to bury a foot into his side again. He collapsed onto the asphalt in a bloody heap. "Assholes," I half-sobbed, swallowing the ball forming in my throat.
Finally they left. I waited before coming out of my hiding place, carefully peering around the corner of the house to make sure they were truly gone. The street was completely empty except for Wayne.
"Wayne?" I said worriedly, running to his side and dropping next to him. I didn't touch him, hands hovering over his body like I would only hurt him more. His face was covered in blood, eyes closed, bruises already forming. "Wayne, dammit, say something!"
He groaned, peeling his eyelid apart.
I breathed a little easier. "Okay, okay, okay." I tried not to panic, hands trembling as I pushed the hair stuck to the blood on his forehead out of the way, "Where does it hurt? Can you get up?"
"Wait! Don't move. You might hurt yourself!"
Wayne sat on my toilet, shirtless, watching me as I tried to warm up the sink water enough to wet a wash cloth. His gaze had a steady softness that didn't make any sense to me. He'd just been welted on, but still sat there the perfect image of endearing calm.
Finally I got the water hot enough to dampen the cloth.
"Tell me if this is warm enough, okay?" I said, ringing it out and sitting on the edge of the bathtub.
"I told you I'm fine. You don't have to do all this." Wayne reminded softly, staring at the ground like he was embarrassed.
I ignored him and took his arm, beginning to carefully wipe the road burn splashed across his skin. "What were you thinking? Going four against one?"
"I was thinking...that you were in trouble."
When I looked up at him, we caught each other's gaze. We stared for a moment. His deep brown eyes and the kindness of his words made my heart turn warm.
"Well, obviously," I whispered, swallowing, breaking the gaze and continuing on his arm, "But weren't you worried about, I dunno, gettin hurt?"
"No." He said simply, in his characteristically low voice.
I shook my head in disbelief, moving on to his other arm.
For a while we were both quiet. His gaze rested on me as I wiped off his torso, barely dabbing the dark bruises crowding his skin. I tried to ignore how his stare made my skin prickle. Underneath the dark skin on his stomach, his core peaked through as a line stretched from his sternum down. He inhaled sharply as I dabbed a bruise right underneath his rib cage.
"What then?" I asked, sitting up straight, done with my work other than his face. "Was it cold?"
I laughed quietly, dabbing the spot under his ribs again. He jerked away, huffing.
"Sorry," I said, standing up to work on his face, "That was mean." The wash cloth began cutting through the blood caked from his forehead to cheek.
"No it wasn't." He shook his head a little as I wiped the blood off, "You could never be mean. You're the nicest girl I know." His eyes flicked up to mine, gauging my reaction.
I stopped what I was doing, looking down at him as a smile crept onto my face. When he saw my expression, a smile of his own graced his lips.
I continued wiping, "You really think that? I'm the nicest girl you know?"
"Yes." His gravely voice held something in it that was different than the usual, like he wanted to say more, do more, but was holding back.
"Well," I paused my work again, examining his soft brown eyes and the way they looked up at me. It was like he would do anything for me, like he cherished me more than the breath in his lungs. My eyes fell to his lips, pink and busted. "Well..." I repeated again, mouth suddenly dry, gaze darting between his warm eyes and soft lips.
His eyes drifted to mouth too, but he sat frozen like if he moved I would run away or disappear in a puff of vapor.
He swallowed as I set down the wash rag and delicately cupped his face, careful not to hurt him. Slowly, I leaned down and brushed my lips against his. A barely audible sigh escaped him as he gently gripped my waist and met me half way, pushing his lips against mine.
Time melted together, becoming a blur of warmth in the pool of my stomach and our lips carefully moving against each other. I could taste the blood that had dried around his mouth, but didn't care. His sweetness and tenderness enveloped me as he worked his lips against mine.
When we both broke away, breathing a little heavier than before, neither let go. Instead we stared at each other, deciphering the other's gaze and saying everything unspoken with the emotion in our eyes.
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