Talk:Kick/@comment-5433364-20130414213815

So, I'm thinking about starting on another story on FFN. The idea came in my head, and I just really really really really really wanted to write it. Here's a portion of it:

                                                                   :.:.:.:.:

Drowsiness and driving did not go well together.

Lying in his temporary hospital bed, Jack Brewer looked up at the stark white ceiling dispassionately as the monitor by his bedside beeped loudly, the I.V. in his arm steadily pumping morphine into his system to dull the pounding in his skull and the ache in his chest. He watched the lines of his heartbeat peak and then fall once again in a continuous pattern, and glanced quickly at the digital clock set near his bed. It wasn't exactly where he'd imagined spending his Saturday evening at.

The walls were painted a soft baby blue; the colour of sunny summer days, baby showers, and new teddy bears. The air, pungent and crisp, smelled strongly of rubbing alcohol and the Febreeze air freshener that the nurse had sprayed profusely in the room. Buried in a corner, the small brown ligneous faux-oak bureau artfully accented the rather small, rectangular space. The lace trims and whimsical colours kept the room from being too sterile, and gave it a more comfortable and approachable atmosphere. His own personal space– half bursting with useless junk, besmirched and dirtied by his hopeless friend, Jerry– was a far cry from the organized little chamber. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have minded spending a few days there.

Under normal circumstances.

Rolling to his other side, the callous youth muttered a quick oath as a searing pain spread up his body, sharp as a knife, and make black spots dance in front of his vision. The pain radiating from his ribs made him gasp for a breath and his eyes widen in shock and delirium. Streams of painkillers and morphine battled uselessly against the waves of ache spreading like a wildfire through his body, and the energy it took for him to regain his composure made him dizzy. But he made no movement to ask for help; he was too busy listening to the conversation his parents were currently having right outside of the door.

"What are we going to do?"

There was no hesitation at the other end of his mother's hurried answer. "I don't know. But I know for a fact that Ms. Greenbaum will press charges!" She paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice held more strain and less lucidity. "God knows how long she's grown and taken care of that weeping willow tree in her front yard," his mom muttered under her breath frantically. The voice was subdued and urgent, as if she didn't want anyone passing to hear. Too late, Jack thought to himself bitterly.

He heard his dad utter something in reply quickly, but couldn't quite catch the beginning. The brunet strained his ears to listen, and just barely caught the end, "-Service instead of jail time." Jack grimaced slightly at the thought of rehabilitation center, but the punishment wasn't entirely out of the question.

Wrapped up in his thoughts, Jack barely noticed that the murmurs outside of his room had ceased until the gold knob twisted carefully and soundlessly, followed by the patter of footsteps and a gentle knock. The door opened slowly, and in reflex, Jack's eyes snapped shut and feigned sleep as his parents entered the room quietly, struggling to calm his breathing and praying that his racing heartbeat didn't give him away at first glance. Although he couldn't see a thing, his sharp ears picked up the soft sounds of his parents as they moved closer towards the bed where he rested.

Gingerly, his mother brushed the bangs away from his sleeping face, and Jack fought not to laugh at the tickling sensation. He heard her quiet murmurs as she bent down close, and her lips moved against his forehead, "Oh, what did we do wrong? How could he have just taken the car in the middle of the night and just crash it like that?"

He listened intently, but heard no response from his silent father until a few minutes later. "It doesn't matter why, if matters what we do after. We have to make sure that he understands this behavior is unacceptable. He cannot simply go around being bumptious, crashing our car, and expecting to get away with it." He said the words slowly, punctuating every point and period. The harshness of the words was nothing that he was not used to hearing. "Who knows? Maybe a day or two in the community rehab center would do him good. Teach him the difference between right and wrong." Jack almost smiled; it wasn't as if he had told them a false equivocation to make them think differently— no, that would require actually speaking to them. Such was his arrogance.

Jack heard his mother's sharp intake of breath at his suggestion. "We can't do that!" His mother wailed, "Have mercy, he's just a teenager! If anything, we should at least try to lessen the consequences instead of making him seem irresponsible; you know how harshly they prosecute teenagers for things like this. He probably was just going to a friend's house to stay the night because-"

"Because of what?" The other challenged quickly, his words increasing in volume as he continued to speak. "Whose house would he be going to see in the middle of the night? Face it, our son was going off to meet with some girl or go to a party while he was grounded. And when he wakes up, we have to make sure that he understands the consequences. That we will not tolerate this." The sleeping brunet winced at his words.

Jack nearly groaned; wasn't having a six-inch black bruise on his chest enough of a punishment? Drained far from deliberation, Jack let his mind slip in and out of the dark and slippery abyss that sang to him like a siren's call— the arguments between his parents about his ramifications nothing but an incessant drone.

With his eyes shut and his breath now steady, he succumbed to the beckoning heavy blanket of sleep.

<p data-mce-style="text-align: center;" style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;text-align:center;">:.:.:.:.:

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;">I purposely wrote it vaguely so I don't reveal too much about Jack's situation (YAY for guessing!), but what do you guys think about it? I've got pretty big plans for this one.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;">Yes, it will be Kick; and yes, it is AU.

<p style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-family:verdana,arial,helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:12px;line-height:normal;">- Alexi :D