"Hey kid watch out!" He jerks his head up just in time to see a car barreling straight towards him. He was frozen to the spot, a scream stuck in his throat. The head lights blind him and he takes in his last breath just before the car struck him.
Or at least, that's what it felt like.
He is tackled from behind, smashed into the cold concrete. Something warm covers him--no--it was hot. It surrounds him like a blanket: it was beneath his head and around his waist, on his back and side; his legs. The boy stills until he feels a heartbeat that didn't belong to him. There is the sound of breathing from two people, two heartbeats, but what about . . . . Something moves through his dark pink hair. Fingers? Yes, long fingers. And the ones holding his waist, long and warm. They clung to his thin body, gripping him with strength he didn't know fingers could posses. The long muscular arms, he could feel a rippled midsection through the clothes that the person wore.
Luka cracks open his eyes to see a soupy gray sky above him. Suddenly, he tastes blood in his mouth. He must have bitten his lip or tongue when he was tackled. It was hot and metallic tasting, something he didn't mind, really. The body on top of him shifts then sits up. Oh my God . . . Holy shit . . . This guy is fucking beautiful, no, gorgeous . . . . A billion thoughts race through Luka's murky head, everything now clouded by the man's looks. Pale, flawless skin, a sharp nose, square jaw; all angular features.
Luka swallows nervously.
Platinum blonde hair swept up into a slight mo-hawk, his hair looking soft and silky. Darker blonde, almost a light brown, eyebrows and eyelashes, deep glacier blue eyes, the darkest blue Luka had ever seen, were framed by rectangular black glasses. He wore slimming jeans that were torn and black Vans covered in every color of paint you could imagine.
The man stares down at the pink haired boy with a straight and some what scary face. " 're y' alright?" That's a Swedish accent! Luka blinks, not knowing what to sat. It was like all the words were caught in his throat and wouldn't come out. So instead he nods weakly, dark pink hair swishing about.
The man stands and extends a hand down to the gawking teen. Luka reaches a trembling hand up and his skin grazes against the blondes. Pure electricity is what it felt like; it felt so real, Luka almost pulled away. The man seizes his hand and pulls him up effortlessly.
Oh God, his grip is tight just like--the blonde looks him up and down before looking nonchalantly away, the slightest shade of pink gracing the Swede's cheeks. "Uhhh . . . . " Oh shit, he must have seen it. He did see it. Luka's face burns to a bright crimson. He couldn't believe this. The embarrassment was killing him.
Suddenly, he snatches his hand away, doing the only thing he was good at, and ran. It took the blonde by surprise because he just stood there before it dawned on him what had just happened. The blonde whirls around and takes off after the sobbing teen.
The boy was heading straight for the woods. The blonde Swede didn't realize what he was doing. He had never had this feeling before, this . . . feeling of electricity coursing through him. Was it the adrenaline? Maybe the sudden act of saving someone? Or was it . . . The man sprints after the teen into the darkening woods.