Blackpink Imagines

Scooter Fate: Lisa💕

Words Count: 1.7k

As the sun began its lazy ascent over the suburban streets, you found yourself reluctantly maneuvering your child's micro-scooter, an embarrassing yet necessary mode of transport. It was drop-off time, the part of the day where single parenting duties converged into a chaotic ballet of managing school bags, lunches, and ensuring your little one made it into class on time.

"Making my way downtown walking fast, faces p-" I was abruptly cut off by an unexpected collision, and to my chagrin, it was none other than my PTA nemesis, Lisa Manoban, steering her own micro-scooter. Both our micro-scooters clashed head-on, propelling both of us airborne, only to crash face-first into each other.

"Son of a Bit- Butternut squash," I blurted out in a mixture of pain and awareness of the surrounding children.

"Shii-take Mushrooms," Lisa groaned, mirroring my discomfort and also conscious of her surroundings.

"You need to watch where you are going!" our simultaneous accusations echoed, drawing the attention of other parents who swiftly called for an ambulance.

As we both lay there amidst the wreckage of our micro-scooters, wincing from the throbbing pain, mutual animosity stewed between us. Clutching our injured noses, we glared daggers at each other, locked in a momentary standoff. A teacher, sensing the tension, rushed out with tissues to help stem the bleeding, attempting to diffuse the escalating situation between two adults squabbling like children.

The wail of the ambulance pierced the air, marking the arrival of much-needed assistance. The EMTs hurried to assess our condition amidst the debris of shattered scooters.

"Looks like you both broke your noses. We should get you to the hospital for a proper check-up," one of the EMTs stated matter-of-factly.

Lisa and I exchanged resigned sighs, the annoyance evident on our throbbing faces, but there was little choice but to comply.

"Either of you can sit on the bench with me or take the stretcher," the EMT offered, gesturing towards the seat and the stretcher.

"I call stretcher!" Lisa and I blurted simultaneously, shooting glares at each other. The momentary standoff ended with me being settled on the stretcher, while Lisa reluctantly took the bench beside the EMT. Our silent duel continued even in the confines of the ambulance, a battle of wills even in the choice of seating arrangements.

The bustling Emergency Room was a chorus of activity, a symphony of hurried footsteps and overlapping conversations. Lisa and I found ourselves side by side, occupying the same cramped space of the divided room separated by a thin, flimsy curtain. The discomfort was magnified by our proximity, and it didn't take long for the tension to resurface.

"This can't be the only available room," I muttered, my discomfort echoing Lisa's unspoken sentiments.

A nurse passing by caught wind of our discontent. "I'm sorry, folks. It's a busy day, and this is the only space we have at the moment. We're doing our best to accommodate everyone," she explained, her tone apologetic yet final.

With a resigned sigh, we begrudgingly settled into our respective beds, separated only by a curtain that seemed to amplify the uncomfortable intimacy of our shared space.

"We should have separate rooms," Lisa muttered under her breath, a sentiment I wholeheartedly echoed.

But amidst the sterile hospital smells and the distant hum of medical equipment, we were stranded together, two adversaries thrown into an unexpected proximity. The shared annoyance at the lack of privacy was a fragile common ground, a small bridge spanning the gap between our animosity. Yet, amidst the discomfort, an opportunity for understanding loomed in the air, waiting to be acknowledged or ignored.