FLYBY (b. bradshaw)

𝙏𝙒𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙔-𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙀

When I woke up, I didn't feel much, but the inside of my head was fuzzy, like it was packed with cotton balls.

"That lips gonna hurt like a bitch." someone commented, and even without opening my eyes, I could imagine the grimace.

"She's a fucking idiot." another said, a much more gruff voice.

Something cold was on my forehead, and my head was pounding, like someone was repeatedly hitting me like a baseball bat. I cracked an eye open, the bright lights blinding me.

"I'm sure I'm still prettier than you." I mumbled, sitting up. Immediately hands were on my arms, helping me. My vision was still slightly blurred, but I could make out three figures. There was silence for a moment, as if they were waiting for me to speak again. "We've all really gotta stop meeting like this, me passing out, you all looking like worry warts."

"God, she's cracking jokes." I heard someone groan. Bradley, Bradley was to my right. "She loses consciousness for an hour, and cracks jokes about us being worried."

"You're gonna be the death of him, Lie, like give him an actual heart attack." That would've been Nat. She was perched at the end of my bed.

"I do have to stop doing this, don't I?" I asked, the question rhetorically. I swiped the towel off my forehead, chunking it onto the bedside table. "I did not miss these carrier lights." 

My vision was clear again. Bradley was beside me, Seresin on the other side. Nat, of course, was at the bottom of my bed.

"You're just glued to the hospital, huh?" Seresin asked and my smile was enough to answer his question.

"She fell off her bike when she was 10, broke her wrist. The bone was sticking out of her skin and she didn't even flinch, just sat there, pouting that she couldn't ride her bike while we waited for the paramedics." Bradley told them, smoothing my hair gently. I leaned into his touch.

I attempted to move my leg, but it was numb. "How many stitches did I rip?"

"Five, and your shoulder is fucked, by the way. You need surgery when we get home." Nat informed me, reciting my chart. It was in her hands and she was flipping through all the pages. "You're a walking distaste."

"I'm a fun walking disaster though, right?"

"No," they all said in unison, giving me a look. I smiled at them again, the action painful. I touched my lip gently, at the split.

"Scaring?" I asked, my finger brushing it gently.

"Nothing a little plastic surgery can't fix," Seresin assured me. "Your pretty face won't be screwed, God knows you need it, your brain ain't going shit for you."

"Where's your friend, Jakey? In a body bag?" I taunted, only half-hearted. The pain meds were killer.

As if I'd summoned him, all of heads wiped around at the groan from down the hall. He was still lying down in bed, but touching his head softly. He was shirtless, his abdomen bandaged up.

"I did that?" I demanded, almost in disbelief. "Damn, I'm stronger than I thought."

Bradley glared. "You were a street fighter."

"Good observation, Mr. Bradshaw, would you like a gold sticker?" I asked in a high teacher's voice.

Bradley rolled his eyes, but was still watching me carefully. He wasn't going to let me out of his sights for a long time after this mission.

"I'm gonna go get a doctor," Jake said, pointing his thumb in a backwards motion. "See you at lunch?"

It took me a moment to realize the question was too Nat and not Brad and me. She didn't smile, didn't even move an inch as she nodded. Her eyes followed him as he swung himself around the corner. She cut me off before I could scream.