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incensus) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
foreverdarling2014-07-30 05:33 pm
incensus) wrote in foreverdarling2014-07-30 05:33 pm
Entry tags:
[modern au] - starter for backcrawl
CW: violence mention, probably some blood and bruises, things you sustain from getting hit by someone larger than you.
[To be fair, the fight hadn't entirely been Wolfram's fault. The guy had been saying some pretty awful things about his mother, which wasn't unusual as a lot of people do, but Wolfram's tired of hearing it. She's the only family he has left at the moment, with his brothers currently in different countries entirely, and no, she's not perfect, and yes, he blames her for certain things. But that hardly means he's willing to listen to a random stranger insult her, someone who thinks they have a right to do that simply because she's rich and well-known.
So he'd hit him. Right there in the park. Where the guy was surrounded by a group of friends. And things had gone down hill from there. And Wolfram hadn't won, not by a long shot, despite the fact he had a lot of anger fueling him, the other guy had been bigger than him (as most guys were, really) and stronger than him. And besides that, he'd had some help from his friends.
Surprisingly, they hadn't gone much for the face. It could have been worse, really. A lot worse. As it is, he'd come out of it with a split lip and a bloody nose, but beyond that it seems to be mostly bruises in other places. That and he's covered in dirt from being pushed to the ground. Which is where he still sits, seething, as the offensive stranger and his friends finally leave, laughing just as much as they had before Wolfram had started the fight. It's all he can do to keep himself from going after them again. But if he receives any more damage it will be even more humiliating than it already is, so he holds himself back, and lets them go.]
[To be fair, the fight hadn't entirely been Wolfram's fault. The guy had been saying some pretty awful things about his mother, which wasn't unusual as a lot of people do, but Wolfram's tired of hearing it. She's the only family he has left at the moment, with his brothers currently in different countries entirely, and no, she's not perfect, and yes, he blames her for certain things. But that hardly means he's willing to listen to a random stranger insult her, someone who thinks they have a right to do that simply because she's rich and well-known.
So he'd hit him. Right there in the park. Where the guy was surrounded by a group of friends. And things had gone down hill from there. And Wolfram hadn't won, not by a long shot, despite the fact he had a lot of anger fueling him, the other guy had been bigger than him (as most guys were, really) and stronger than him. And besides that, he'd had some help from his friends.
Surprisingly, they hadn't gone much for the face. It could have been worse, really. A lot worse. As it is, he'd come out of it with a split lip and a bloody nose, but beyond that it seems to be mostly bruises in other places. That and he's covered in dirt from being pushed to the ground. Which is where he still sits, seething, as the offensive stranger and his friends finally leave, laughing just as much as they had before Wolfram had started the fight. It's all he can do to keep himself from going after them again. But if he receives any more damage it will be even more humiliating than it already is, so he holds himself back, and lets them go.]
no subject
Sounds like trouble, he realized, gut clenching when he glanced up. There was something about that particular laughter that just sparked the worry; it had that cruel edge of boys making fun of something or something. The suspicion was only confirmed by the look of them, a little ruffled and disheveled like they'd got in a fight. Makoto frowned at them, his pace slowing to a stop as they went past him -- they barely paid him attention. Once they stepped by, his eyes were quick to find the victim of the scuffle. His eyes widened and without another thought, he rushed over, shoving his phone in a pocket in a rush.
And he was familiar, the boy. Barely. The blond hair and face gave him away immediately; it was a small town and his mother was famous. Just the same, Makoto knelt next to him hastily, worried look escalating at the bloody nose.]
Are you okay?
[Despite all the worry, there was a gentle note to the question -- he'd grown up with a certain boy that had more pride than he knew what to do with, but was more likely to cry over a skinned knee than anything. Makoto's always been sympathetic and understanding, but he'd learned how to be delicate as a kid.]
Here, you should lean forward some if your nose is still bleeding... Ah, I don't have anything on me to help!
[He's practically rambling -- fussing -- because, well, he's never been good with blood.]
no subject
He does lean forward some when it's suggested, and covers up his surprise with a look of mild annoyance while taking his own handkerchief out of the pocket of his private school blazer. It would probably be ruined after using it to hold a bloody nose, but he's not really concerned about that.]
It's not a big deal.
[Which is both true and false, in a way. It could have been a bigger deal, and in fact it's not even the worst fight he'd ever been involved in. But truth be told he feels a little too banged up and sore at the moment to even stand up without wincing. But that doesn't stop him from trying, and failing. Which only serves to make him feel even more humiliated because he'd just attempted to stand up and ended up right back on the ground again.]