Missing Streams

Shit, Sorry - 1

"Shit, watch out!" An unfamiliar voice echoed from behind me, my sleep deprived mind unable to process the words before something hit my back, knocking the wind out of me. My duffle bag would have flown from my grasp if it wasn't hooked over my shoulder, instead flying forward to bring me with it. I spun in a circle, hitting the ground before I could realize what was even happening.

My tailbone smacked against the tiled floor, quickly followed by my spine. Any air left in my lungs was forced out of my body, leaving me gasping for breath. The shock of the fall ran through my spine, leaving me paralyzed for a moment as my brain worked to figure out what had just happened.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." The same voice as before, now quieter, spoke again. My vision went dark, and I worried for a moment I had gone blind. I blinked stupidly as I remained silent, quickly realizing the darkness of my vision was simply a mess of black hair that seemed to belong to the unknown voice.

My vision cleared to see deep brown eyes looking at me from behind the crow's nest. It had been, what, an hour since I had woken up? I wasn't exactly a morning person. With a cloud of fog masking my senses, I stared at this stranger as the gears of my brain turned through thick sludge.

It took me a moment to think to say something, but had yet to decide what. I managed to come up with a few words, forcing them from my mouth with the first breath I regained, "Don't worry about it." Speaking helped clear my mind, giving me the image of a boy kneeled next to me, looking very worried. I guessed he could have been a man, considering even I would be eighteen within a couple months. He seemed rather young, though, with the look of a guilty child spread across his face. Raising a hand towards his face, I mumbled a few more words, "Who are you?"

"Oh, uh, I'm James." He stumbled over his words, laughing nervously as he stood up straight. He spoke with a deep voice and a tone far too kind to paint him as some ass who didn't watch where he was going, "I wasn't watching where I was going and ran into you by accident. Are you okay?"

I laughed. He must have just been an idiot who didn't watch where he was going. James stretched his hand out, smiling as he silently offered to help me up. I took his hand in my right, remembering he had asked me a question. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He had gotten me up to my feet, and I was just starting to stand up straight when James grabbed my left hand - likely for extra support. He immediately looked scared and practically jumped back as he let go of my hands. I nearly fell over since I actually was relying on him for balance, but I managed to push myself into a standing position without eating shit.

"Shit, I'm sorry." James forced a laugh in attempt to make light of the situation, "Your hand was just really cold and freaked me out. Did you hurt it when you fell?"

"No, it's always like that." I brushed off my sweats, noticing water droplets were clinging to the grey fabric, "Your damsel in distress goes by Scarlet, by the way."

"Oh, sorry, forgot to ask your name." He laughed again, quickly looking at his feet as I caught him blushing. Though his cheeks weren't the same colour as his red sneakers, it was obvious he had embarrassed himself. I felt bad for him, his apologetic tone reminding me of a close friend.

"Don't sweat it." I smirked, trying to get him to relax, "I've probably forgotten yours by now. What is it..." Pursing my lips, I made it obvious I was thinking hard, "Jake? Jack? Jimmy?"

James laughed, visibly relaxing, "James Bond, at your service."

"You're kidding." I raised an eyebrow, challenging him to defend himself.

"I am." He rolled his eyes, "I wish I wasn't." A brown suitcase was standing next to him, and I wondered how he didn't knock it over when he jumped away from me. A plain black backpack hung from his left shoulder, carrying countless pins that showed his affinity towards different video games and bands. He smirked when he noticed I was looking at it, shrugging it off his shoulder, "Hey, you should have a pin. As a 'sorry I knocked you over' present."

"If you insist." I smiled, looking at his bag. He actually had a pin that matched the shirt I was wearing, and I wasted no time in going to grab it.

"Nah, I've got it." He chuckled, moving to pull it from the fabric. It left two small holes as he handed me the image of an explosion, a glare of light on the plastic cover hiding a plane I knew was there.

"Thanks." I put it on my shirt, unable to think of where else to put it. Lost for words to say, I stood there for a moment when I heard yet another stranger speaking behind me.

"James, didn't I tell you to stop hitting on girls?"