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➪ ,,GN! reader,, platonic relationship
➪ ,, reader is a troubled retired feild medic who wishes to relieve their trauma by doing the only thing that ever helped them cope as a teenager- racing,, knockout is out for a race when somone having a screaming fit rams into him from behind
➪ ,, TW!! ,, metions of death,, grief,, suicidal intent
➪ ,, word count,, 916
• coming home from war was like walking into a different reality. nothing felt the same around you, and you didn't feel the same inside.
• you had seen and handled so many dying soliders. countless
• you felt numb when you dropped you bags at the front door of your apartment
• missing limbs from bombs, bullet wounds in non fatal and extreamly fatal places, watching them die because there was nothing more you could with the primitive equipment they allowed you to bring to the battlefield
• having to count the seconds until they finally stopping breathing, look at your watch, and announce "time of death, eleven forty-six, date, January seventh" and then having to write, sign, fold, and seal those letters and death certificates to the families praying to their religious gods that their child came home safe and sound
• so,, many
• and when the conflict had finally settled, you immediately resigned
• you refused to treat another patient
• so when you finally got home, back to your cozy and slightly too expensive apartment, you did the only thing that ever eased your nerves before you became a responsible adult: street racing
• when you arrived to the scheduled meeting place, you covered your license plates incase the cops arrived and you needed to make a get away quickly without getting into any trouble if you managed to speed away before you were caught
• the reward money was why you had started racing in the first place,, your mom was sick and as a teen there were only so many things you could do to pay the bills, pay for your mom's medical treatment, and still have some left just to eat
• but she had died anyway, and you soon dived into medical school, paying every penny off with your racing
• and then you ran off to war to heal people who would die the next day anyway
• you rolled up next to a fancy red car who's tires had yellow rims and engine's impressive roar
• the sound relaxed you
• a skimpy woman wearing anything that could barely be considered clothes aproached the front of the vehicles, a checkered flag in hand
• she rose her arm up high so everyone could see and the crowd that came to watch quieted
• "GO!!" she yelled and swung her arm down
• you pressed your foot on the pedal until the bottom of it hit the floor of the car and your face got red with the amount of pressure you were using and your knuckles turned white with the grip on the wheel you had
• after several minutes of racing you had began to sob, not even focused on winning but rather just wishing this race would ease your interal pain
• your vision began blurring and fat ugly tears ran down your face in globs and you clenched your eyes shut, foot on the pedal, leaned forward, and screamed
• you screamed until your voice was horse and you kept your eyes closed because you would rather crash into who knows what than open your eyes again
• and crash you did
• right into that shiny red car with that mysterious driver that never left his car and always drive off before anyone could knock on his window and throw cash at his face
• you did hit the breaks after a moment of literally pushing the red car in front of you
• through your eyelids you could see the headlights of other racers speeding past until everyone was gone
• and once everyone was finally long gone, knockout, absolutely en-fucking-raged transformed
• he took one good look at his wrecked plates and his scratched paint and steam started coming out of his vents in pure anger
• the driver of the car hadn't gotten out, what he assumed was them seeing his true form and being too terrified to move, which amused his greatly
• however that was not the case and he learned so when he knelt down to yell at them through the windshield and threaten to crush him- but he stopped short
• through the glass he realized that the petty human hadnt even notcied him at all
• instead, their head was pressed against the streering wheel with their arms coving the top of their head and their hand gripping their hair painfully as they sobbed
• racing had not relieved any interal pain as you had hoped
• knockout, wasnt sure if he wanted to actually go through with all the vile things he had planned on doing the moment of the collision, or if he wanted to awkwardly leave
• and then, while peering at the human through the windsheilds, he noticed the the medical papers in the passenger seats and the copies of death certificates and then the human's medical license
• and then he remembered breakdown
• and he understood
• he under understood completely and so he decided not to inflict his wrath on the troubled human who was too deep in their sorrows to even notice the alien titan watching them cry pathetically
• and so he sat down next to the other wrecked car and allowed himself to cry too
