Hey Sunshine

Two Crashes, Two Minutes, One Stop Sign

SEVERAL DAYS AFTER THE INCIDENT, Wylan had his head down in his phone and was anxiously texting an old friend that was studying out of the country. Keeping his head low he kept his strides long (as long as he could, with his five foot three frame) and half heartedly adjusted his bag, in full knowledge that it would only drop seconds after.

As he shifted the strap of his bag up once again, he heard a-

"Watch out!"
As Wylan immediately looked up alarmed to see who the voice had come from, twisting his head around. Caught unaware, the rest of his body kept surging forward and he walked headfirst into a bright red pole.

Smack.

A hot flash of pain seared through his head and he clutched it weakly, stepping away from the pole and rubbing the bruise on his head.

"I should ask if you're okay but that seems kind of obvious."

Wylan spun his head around once more to see a tall boy behind him, with dark brown skin and gorgeous sparkling eyes. His face was sculpted - as if an artist had been behind it - and the boy stared him down at what had to be a ridiculous height, locks of ebony hair running down his head and curling at the neck.

I need to draw him, Wylan thought immediately.

"Hello?" the boy repeated, taking a concerned step towards Wylan. "Are you okay?"
Flushing with embarrassment, Wylan took a half step backwards, crashing into the pole once more. He winced as the pain began ringing in the back of his head as well, and the boy staring him down hid the smile that crooked the tips of his lips up. It was a beautiful beginning of a smile, Wylan mused. A slightly more amused Mona Lisa smile.

"I'm fine," he stuttered out. "I-I-I can make it to my apartment."
The boy looked around at the darkening sky and then shook his head, evidently deciding on something. "You've just walked into a stop sign twice. You're clearly hurt," he said calmly. "It's getting dark outside - why don't you just come with me?"

Wylan paused and looked at him suspiciously. Hot or not hot, a kidnapper was still a kidnapper.

"I'm not a kidnapper," he said easily, as if reading Wylan's thoughts. "And I promise that I don't make it a habit of bringing accident prone people into my apartment."
"How do you know I'm accident prone?" Wylan weakly managed. It was really all the words he could get out.

The boy arched an eyebrow. "You've crashed into the same stop sign twice within the same five minutes."
Wylan flushed. "I'm going to take a big risk here and trust that you're not planning on kidnapping me," he finally said. "But if you are, know that I am dyslexic and therefore cannot be sold for a lot of money if you ever decide to sell me to the highest bidder."

The boy winked at Wylan. Unwillingly, his cheeks burned red and he was pretty sure it was a dark enough shade to mimic the stop sign he had crashed into.

"Sell you to the highest bidder?" he asked flirtatiously. "I'd rather just keep you for myself."
His cheeks were probably redder than the damn stop sign now, he cursed.

"See, I'd really not like to be sold. Or kidnapped. Or anything. I should really not be taking you up on this offer, but it's getting dark and my head is killing me," Wylan said croakily, rubbing his head with both hands now. The boy's eyes grew concerned and he looked at Wylan with an alarmed expression.

"You're swaying," he pointed out a little to late.

Wylan had already fallen forward, and with it, everything faded to black.