Bradley Simpson Imagines

db track (img, 105)

"Did Brad say anything to you before he left today?" Emily asks through the phone.

"No.." you groan. "I just got up, remember?"

"Well then. Call him for me would you?" And with that she ends the call, leaving you staring at a black screen.

"Bitch," you mumble under your breath, glancing at the raspberries sitting on the table.

Bradley must've left them out this morning.

Living with him was new to you, having only known him a few months.. but he was a good roommate none of the less.

Before you had the chance to call him, you saw a small note taped to the fridge.

   5:00 pm. DB Racetrack. Be there.
   -B

DB Racetrack? Why there of all places? You rip the note off to see that there was ticket attached to the back.

"Section 3, row E, seat 7." You say to yourself, walking into your room again to change out of your pyjamas.

Brad and you had stayed up till four watching stupid movies, making Emily's annoying phone call wake you up much earlier than you had wanted.

Deciding on ripped skinny jeans and a dark blue sweater, you quickly lock up your apartment and make your way to your car.

——————

"Y/N! You called Brad, I see?" Emily smiles.

"No he left a note.." you mutter, sitting down in the seat Brad had got for you which was coincidentally right beside Emily and her boyfriend Grayson's seats.

"Why are we here right now?" You sigh, looking at the guy that sat beside you, not Brad, noticing that Gray had a different guy on the other side of him— wondering why the hell Brad wouldn't have bought himself a ticket.

"Someone's on their period." Gray mutters under his breath, receiving a slap from you.

"And? Have anything else to add?"

"You didn't deny it."

"Why are we here." You raise your eyebrows in question, which Grayson knows all too well— you were pissed off.

"To watch." Gray smiles smugly, while Emily stifles a laugh.

"I'm leaving then."

"Wait!" Gray sighs, grasping your upper arm. "This is Bradley's way of telling you something. You have to stay. He said he wrote on the back of your ticket."

Shoving your hand into your pocket you pull out the bright red ticket and flip it over.

   #28 cheer loud
   -B

"Number 28?"

"Yep." Gray smiles, looking towards the group of dirt bikers sitting on their bikes.

"He's not, -he can't be," you mutter, your eyes zeroing in on a bright yellow suit with the number 28 on the front in navy blue.

"English Y/N?" Gray smirks, getting a death glare from you.

"He races?"

"I don't know, does he?" Emily smiles.

"I swear you two are just here to anger me."

Before either can reply, all the dirt bikers start their engines, revving excessively, waiting for the sign to go.

You keep your eyes focused on 28, still not admitting that Bradley was 28. The dirt race track is pretty self explanatory, there's two large jumps and multiple turns.

There's seven riders including 28, and they start stupidly close together.

18 seems to get ahead pretty quickly but of course, 28 isn't far behind.

Usually you wouldn't get nervous watching races, but you absolutely hated how close they were together. They both take the jump at the same time, but 18 left the jump on an angle to the right, where 28 was, causing a mid air collision.

Gray, Emily, and you were all on your feet, along with many other people in the stadium watching everything go in slow motion.

Somehow 18 managed to somewhat stay on his bike, landing shakily, but 28 on the other hand did not.

His bike went into the middle of the track, his body went right.

"Please, one of you tell me that this is a joke. That that's not Brad. Please," you beg looking between the two of them, as the alarm goes off the stop the other racers. Emily's eyes fill with tears and Grayson's fill with worry.

"We have to get down there Y/N, now. Go." Gray strictly says, pushing everyone out of the way to get down to floor level.

He forces through the security guards by the fence, not even sparing them a second glance as you run out to Brad, who has three medics around him.

"Ambulance is on their way, make sure he does not move." One of them say, holding tightly to Bradley's helmet.

"B," you whimper, looking at his closed eyes.

"Fuck!" Harry yells, kicking dirt, while Emily tries to calm him down. "Look at him Em!"

"Is he-" you stop short, trying to take a breath. "Is he alive?"

"Alive yes, but unconscious."