Flower Boy - Klance | completed |

Ch. Eight

Ch. Eight

Dominic was kind of not okay.

He didn't remember much of the past few hours; he had been walking on the side of the road, breathing in the sweet, fresh air of the springtime around him, with the intent of stopping at Oliver's house to hang out. The road was empty, though the occasional car zoomed past, disturbing the tranquilness.

And then... And then it was a blur of frantic honking, screaming, and he was rolling down the unkept, grassy hill that dipped down next to the road, the breath forced from his lungs.

And then there was nothing.

When he had finally managed to crack open his eyes in what seemed like a few seconds later, he was greeted with the night sky above him, the sun receding just below the horizon. His head was pounding, a constant mantra of frantic drum beats screaming in his ears. There was also pressure around his temporal lobes as if someone had grabbed the sides of his head and started to squeeze.

The fourteen-year-old sat up, groaning loudly as the rush of blood from his brain made his world spin. He tried to ignore the loud ringing in his ears as he pulled his knees to his chest, clutching his head and gasping for air.

Was he going to die? Is this what death feels like?

Calm the fuck down, he thought to himself. There was a chance he could have said it aloud because his vocal chords seemed raw as if not prepared to be used. Dominic drew in a long, slow breath, hands threading in his hair and pressing down onto his skull gently as if he could dissipate the feeling that his brains were going to fall out at any given second.

"Calm... the fuck... down," he tried again, gasping with each breath. Assess the situation. Find a solution.

After pausing for another few seconds, the boy slowly began to draw his legs back, peeling them away from him so he was sitting criss-cross in the uncomfortable, grassy, forest-like area about twenty feet away from the road to his left. One hand never left his head, but the other slowly ran through his hair, picking out any twigs and leaves, before running down his opposite arm to check for injuries.

When he was satisfied, he began to carefully pat down his stomach, drawing in a breath when he realized his right side had gone numb. Carefully peeling back his shirt, damp with sweat, Dom's eyes traced over the six or seven deep cuts running up where his ribs were located, as if various sticks or rocks had broken his skin during the fall.

He also may have had a concussion, judging by the fact his vision hadn't stopped dotting, the ringing was louder than before and he wanted to slam a heavy object into his skull to have any relief from this piercing headache.

He would have to go to the hospital, most likely, to check everything and make sure the injuries running up his side weren't infected. Keith was probably - Keith! How long had he been unconscious?! It was dark... That had to be at least a few hours, if not days. God, please, don't let him have been asleep for days. He couldn't do that to them again... Even if this specific time was actually an accident.

Where... Where was his phone?

Dom felt around in the grass beneath him, running his hands over the rocks littering the dirt in a desperate search. No... No, he had to find that phone.

Dominic's throat was beginning to close up, and he let out a broken cry as he retracted his hand, instead covering his face as the boy's lips began to tremble against his wishes. A heaving, shuddering gasp escaped his lips, and he dipped his head so it rested on his knees, hands clutching his faded brown shirt as he cried out, eyes stinging with tears as they finally began to drip down his dirt-smudged cheeks, leaving awkward trails of clean skin in their wake.