What Are You Running From?

Introduction

Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
BEE-

“Alright, alright, I get it, I’m up!” A loud groan bounces around the walls of a small beige room as a hand underneath a mountain of covers emerges an arm that loudly slaps one annoying alarm clock. “I’m getting up-” A figure says, interrupting themself with a yawn, and pushes the warm comforter off themself as they slowly sit up and stretch in their bed. “First day of school, huh? Man, and I was just getting used to summer.” Ever so groggily, a young sophomore slowly leaves the soft feeling of her dreams and steps into reality. She glances at the clock, trying to remember the new morning schedule that she planned last night. 

“Right! Morning run!” The thought of a morning warm-up wakes her up ever so slowly as she changes into some proper runwear; some running shorts and a tank-top. Crossing over to her dresser, she unplugs a phone with a [f/c] case, plugging in some workout headphones.

After sliding on a small band around her forearm that held her phone, she leaves her room, and steps out into a hallway. After styling her hair in the preferred way, she looked around and headed downstairs, concluding that no one was home, or even awake yet, and walked into the kitchen. Stealthily, she grabbed a cookie from a slightly large cookie jar from the counter, and glanced at the time on the stove. “6:45, right on time.”

    The morning was golden and slightly damp as the girls’ feet pounded on the sidewalk, running past her still sleeping neighborhood. Dew settled on the plants, and the air was crisp and fresh. A few birds sang in the morning, conversing on treetops and telephone wires, accompanied momentarily by heavy panting as the girl passed by.

She turned a corner, [e/c] eyes surveying the scenery, not exactly paying attention to what’s around her. The sun was rising, making the sky a lovely mixture of pinks, light blues, and subtle purples.

“Wow…” She softly mumbled, and turned her head a fraction of a second too late, and rammed full jogging speed into a wall. The force of the impact into said wall caused her to stumble, trip and fall on her behind, and -unfortunately- slamming her palms onto the ground beside her, scratching them up a great deal.

Wait, no, that wasn’t a wall. A wall isn’t soft and green and firm- no, it was a boy. She glanced up at the guy, who glared down at her. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking at where I was going-” She started, but the male interrupted her. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe you should've.” He sighed, and looked behind him. The girl took this awkward moment of silence to actually look at the guy. His messy dark red hair shone in the early morning hastily placed in a low ponytail. His pale skin was slightly flushed, as if he had been running as well. He was wearing a dark green sweater, that fit him snugly. His jeans were dark and faded, and his shoes looked like they’ve been around for a long time. He adjusted a backpack on his shoulder, and his indigo eyes flicked back over to the girl on her butt. “Are you gonna get up or what?” His entire cocky attitude irked the girl, and she opened her mouth to retaliate, but quickly closed it, and decided it was better to get up and argue than to be sitting on the sidewalk.

However, as soon as she started to put pressure on her hands, a shot of pain sparked through her arm. “Ow- shit-” She pulled her hands back from the ground and looked at her palms, noticing a few cuts and scratches from the rough cement. “Alright, look clearly you need help getting up.” The boy grumbled. “Wait, no I don-” The girl started but was quickly interrupted again by the boy roughly grabbing her wrists and pulling her up. 

The quick amount of strength the boy showed caused her to fall forward and fall into his chest. For a fraction of a second, the girl was so flustered that she forgot how to breathe, and she could hear him hold his breath. The world stopped for just a moment, but it felt like a millennium. They weren’t strangers for that fraction of a second, but something else. His hands frozen with her wrists inside them, her head on his chest. 

‘I don’t even know his name. God, I don’t even know his name! I need to get going, what am I doing?!’ She pulled back, stuttering an apology, face bright red. “S-Sorry about that. I just, uh.” “Yeah.” He cleared his throat, his own face speckled with a light pink. “Let’s try again.” She nervously giggles. He puts out his hand. “Alright, if you're serious. The name’s Allen. Allen Nickla.” The girl gently shakes it. “[Y/N] [L/N]. Pleased to meet you.” Allen smirks slightly. “Nice meeting you too, [Y/N]. You should get those cuts cleaned.” “Oh, uh, yeah, I should.”