[@cherrybclm liked for a starter!]
Nines times out of ten, venturing out on his own always took some sort of turn for the worst. This instance was definitely one of those times.
He‘d been chasing ghosts and old leads again, driving across the country to scour ancient, long-abandoned NESTS bases for answers to his missing past... And come up empty. Again. He’d expected this outcome, yet it still hurt; crushed a little more of the fragile optimism he didn’t know he still had for this endeavour. His mood had only declined further as he spent the last of his money on gas for his bike instead of food (which he’d already skipped out on for the past two days in favour of covering more ground) yesterday. And spiralled even further down when the irritating throat tickle and random tired spells he’d picked up a few days ago had worsened exponentially overnight, culminating into a chestier cough and a really bad fever. Bad enough that in his semi-delirious state he’d almost drifted into another lane and crashed into a less than impressed truck driver.
After that incident, K’ had made the executive decision to pull into the closest town, parking himself near a residential area to rest somewhere halfway quiet.
He sighed miserably, folding his arms over the handlebars, then slumping over to rest his scorching forehead against the cool metal of his gauntlet, head pounding and spinning nauseatingly. He wasn’t sure if it was the lack of food or the fever that was making him so dizzy. Then again, it didn’t matter either way, did it? Because there was no way in hell he was fit for driving back home now. And with not nearly enough money leftover for a decent meal, let alone lodging, well... He was kind of screwed right now.
K’ coughed, shoulders shaking with the strength of the fit. He was left gasping thinly in the aftermath, trying to catch his breath. The throbbing in his skull was even worse now. He screwed his eyes shut in hopes of quelling the pain some, and pressed his forehead harder against the scuffed red metal covering his hand. A bead of sweat slid down his brow and against his closed eye, eliciting a twitch. He sighed again, grumbling into his arm, “Fuck my life...”
