Not the Role Model Type

Chapter four

The sun was shining in your arms, making it harder for you to see the ball. The only indication it was a ball was the bright yellow, but then again that could have also been mistaken for the hot orb in the sky making you partially blind.

But it wasn't a ball, wasn't the softball. It was actually soft, and made a loud squeaking noise when you hit it. Definitely not a softball, because a softball isn't suppose to be soft.

You gasped, everyone on the field turned to look at you as the actual softball pounded itself into your chest, the item you hit, that wasn't the ball, landed in the grass a long ways back near the ASB group.

The blue and white team uniform T-shirt and grey pants reflecting in the light, you yanked off your softball helmet and rubbed the left side of your chest just under your shoulder, a bruise already forming where the softball had been thrown into your arm.

"(Y/n), that wasn't the ball!" The coach yelled, blowing the whistle. You didn't pay attention to him, the only thing you paid attention too was the blood on the bat and the yellow feather that stuck to your shirt, blood tainting the white area.

This happened about twice a year, sometimes a student would hit a bird without realizing. It mostly happened when the sun was so close in your eyes, impairing your eyesight. This time, it had been you it happened too.

You threw the helmet onto the ground, slamming the bat at your side and taking off running in the direction the bird had been smacked across the field by your bat. The game resumed without you as you ran off the field near where the ASB was filling up plastic tanks of water, Damian was the first to notice something was wrong.

Your breathing was sharp and loud, you could hear it in your chest, feeling your heartbeat in your brain as you ran as fast as you could. Damian, had squinted his eyes and raised a hand over his eyebrows on his forehead to see what the fuss was about, a couple other ASB members doing the same. Especially when it's you, running with a scared expression filled with worry. Something very rare to see.

You got to the area the bird had landed, resting your hands on your knees and bending over to catch your breath. This intrigued Damian, why had you ran off the field? Softball was pretty much everything to you, out of all the time he's seen you play, you've never left the field for any other reason to get water. even then you'd rather be dehydrated as long as you get to be on the field.

Then he saw the bird, first he saw the drops of blood that reflected in the sunlight, then he saw the yellow and red and black feathers in the area. Then he saw the blood on your shirt and the small drops on your face. Instinct took over, assuming the blood was yours at first as he made his way over to you at a fast jog, not exactly a run but he wasn't walking either.

"(Y/n)?" He asked, staring at you, but your eyesight was on the dry grass, the bird that lay unmoving keeping the serious expression on your face. Something Damian felt uneasy seeing on you, was the serious expression that meant no more fooling and messing around.

"Hey, (Y/N)." Damian demanded, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you. A scoff leaving his lips, though in response you grabbed his hands and ripped them off of your shoulders.

He looked down and noticed the robin at your feet, unmoving and bleeding with a wing bent in the opposite direction. A lump in his throat that was quickly shoved away. You always had a strange sense of irony, Damian just hopes this isn't one of those dumb times where you're irony actually threatens him.