#17: don't wear socks. they suck. and especially not toe socks, they are a crime to humanity
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𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐘 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐊𝐄?
No? Lucky you. Because Axel Capulet could proudly say he'd experienced such a collision after the day's events.
Or unproudly, depending on one's interpretation.
"OOF," was the strategically chosen sound that came out of his mouth as he fell sideways onto the gravel. His arm slammed onto the ground, his face giving the pavement an enthusiastic embrace. Black and yellow dots danced before his eyes, taunting. Ya got squashed by a bicycle, my boy, they seemed to giggle.
"Oh, god," The biker stopped and bent down to inspect him-at least, that's what he thought they did.
"Ugh, kid, god, sorry," It was a college age guy with a bad case of acne. Wait a minute, wasn't he the employee Valentine had flirted with to get a discount? At the thrift store? Cloverleaf was indeed a small town.
"Hey, better-can you not press charges? Look, I'll give you, uh-" He took out his wallet. "A hundred bucks. Yeah. Here." He stuffed the bill into Axel's scratched up and dirt splattered hand, then flew off without a shred of remorse.
There he lay, on the sidewalk. What a loser I must look like right now. Axel stared at the sky, squinting from the sun. It hurt like shit. Somewhere, somehow, he'd hit his wrist on something, and it hurt enough to ache when he clenched his fists. His cheek stung with something that felt like a cut. Several, actually.
And then it hit him.
(like the bicycle just did)
(too soon?)
In his numb fingers. There. He. Held.
A. Hundred. Dollar. Bill.
Fuck.
He heaved himself up, slowly, wincing. His wrist was clicking funny. The pain in his head was slowly fading into more of an uncomfortable throb. He'd bitten down on his lip too hard, and the taste of copper filled his mouth. Well, this was a shitty day.
