He didn't tell her his name. He was in the middle of recoiling from her hand, horrified despite - or maybe because of - her calmness and alarmed but the matter-of-factness in her touch. She acted like this was normal. She acted like she was so sure, and he had no idea what was going on, no idea at all, he had to get out and--
"Ah, ow, son of a...!"
He'd backed right into someone else. Someone huge, which was fucking saying something, considering that Aomine himself was over six feet.
"...bitch!"
He felt a sting, small but hot, and lurched in the guy's arms, for a moment nothing more than an animal caught in a trap. The orderly would have to endure banged knees and raw scrapes down his arm, if not a busted lip from how Aomine swung his head. There was a solid five minutes of struggling in fact, before he began to feel it: a sensation like lead going through his bloodstream. It pulled his limbs down, made his struggles slower, harder, until he was hanging off that thick arm, not being held.
He heard someone screaming. The noise entered his ears through a wall of cotton, his brain now hot for different reasons.
It seemed, to him, that no time passed at all before his knees bumped into the bed. The arm was gone; it was just the woman now, and her lilting accent. He groped blindly and found metal to hold on to, which he tried, then, to use to pull himself away from her. He tried to stay angry, using it to tighten his grip and force his arms to move, but it was hard; the confusion tripped him up, the heat slowed him down, and the fear was inching back, awful and inevitable.
"No, no, the fuck...don't touch me - "
Unbalanced, his weight toppled against the bed railing and his phone fell out of his pocket. It was on, but the screen was only black.
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Date: 2015-10-09 08:34 pm (UTC)"Ah, ow, son of a...!"
He'd backed right into someone else. Someone huge, which was fucking saying something, considering that Aomine himself was over six feet.
"...bitch!"
He felt a sting, small but hot, and lurched in the guy's arms, for a moment nothing more than an animal caught in a trap. The orderly would have to endure banged knees and raw scrapes down his arm, if not a busted lip from how Aomine swung his head. There was a solid five minutes of struggling in fact, before he began to feel it: a sensation like lead going through his bloodstream. It pulled his limbs down, made his struggles slower, harder, until he was hanging off that thick arm, not being held.
He heard someone screaming. The noise entered his ears through a wall of cotton, his brain now hot for different reasons.
It seemed, to him, that no time passed at all before his knees bumped into the bed. The arm was gone; it was just the woman now, and her lilting accent. He groped blindly and found metal to hold on to, which he tried, then, to use to pull himself away from her. He tried to stay angry, using it to tighten his grip and force his arms to move, but it was hard; the confusion tripped him up, the heat slowed him down, and the fear was inching back, awful and inevitable.
"No, no, the fuck...don't touch me - "
Unbalanced, his weight toppled against the bed railing and his phone fell out of his pocket. It was on, but the screen was only black.