—The Rabid Incident—

Ch.1 Part 1

༺✄༻JULES༺✄༻

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The sky wasn't just grey.

It was actively out to get me.

The clouds had that bruised, swollen look of someone picking a fight, the wind whipped hard enough to sting my cheeks, and mud clung to everything with the desperation of an ex who never quite got the hint. Even the air felt hostile, like London itself was leaning down to mutter, 'You're not cut out for this, bunny boy.'

And me? I was sprinting through it all, my lungs burning, boots sliding, dodging puddles as if they were landmines. Every step was a near-death experience; one slip sent me skidding sideways and I swore so loud, I nearly traumatised a bunch of pigeons. With some divine intervention, I managed not to face-plant the ground...Thank fuck.

Why the Olympic-level sprint? Well, because somewhere ahead of me, is that Bastard™ bolting ahead - a rabbit.

Not just any rabbit.

Of course not, why would I be so lucky on the weekend? This one was a beefy, emotionally unstable Angora with the self-preservation instincts of a frat boy three Red Bulls deep.

"Get back here, you sentient lint trap!"

I bellowed, my dignity long drowned in a puddle behind me. The rabbit bolted faster, ears back, a flash of chaotic fluff disappearing between trees. I muttered threats that would get me blacklisted from every petting zoo in Britain, but desperation kept my legs moving.

Then lightning cracked overhead. I flinched, my left foot betrayed me, the right one said, 'same girl', and down I went. Mud erupted around me like confetti at the world's saddest parade. Somehow, through sheer spite, I lunged forward at the last second and tackled the furry fugitive, sliding across the muck, with him clutched in my arms like some war hero saving a fallen comrade.

"Got you, you overgrown hairball!" I wheezed, dripping with mud. "What now, huh? Start a coup in Hyde Park? Declare yourself the rodent king of Zone One? My hand is fucking shaking!"

The rabbit, of course, remained mute, because the universe refuses to give me even one ounce of validation. And apparently, that wasn't enough humiliation for one evening, because just as I tried to stand, my boot slipped again and I went face-first into the mud so hard I inhaled half a kilo of earth. Somewhere out there, gardeners were spiritually applauding.

That's when I heard it - the low, guttural roar of an engine.

I shoved myself upright, dirt dripping down my chin, and squinted into the rain.

A dirt bike was tearing toward me, fast enough to make the asphalt spit and the rain recoil.

"You've got to be shitting me..."

The bike swerved at the last possible second, missing me by inches, before skidding sideways and crashing in a glorious spray of mud and metal. The impact echoed down the trail, then silence fell. The rabbit sat beside me, perfectly still. Together we looked like two unconvincing crime-scene chalk outlines waiting for a detective to sigh.

"...Did we just kill someone?" I asked him. He didn't reply. Rude.

Dragging myself upright like a hungover raccoon crawling out of a nightclub bin, I staggered toward the wreckage. The rider was sprawled in the mud, limbs tangled with metal, helmet tilted at a crooked angle. My stomach dropped.

Oh God. Oh my FRIKING God. I'd just caused a motorbike homicide!

This was it.

This was my...villain origin story.

"Hey...?" I called, because obviously that's how you check if someone's alive.

No response.

My panic spiked. In a burst of medical brilliance, I found a stick and poked the body. Standard NHS-approved protocol. Still nothing.

"Oi! Move for God's sake..."

I crouched down, hands trembling, and tugged at the helmet. It came off with a wet schlurp sound that I'm fairly sure will haunt my nightmares forever. Ew.

Surprised by my own shock, my eyes widened.

There he was...

No.

No no no no no.

Fuck, shit, fuck!

No. Absolutely not. It's not happening.

Soaked, mud-splattered, unconscious and somehow still looking like the cover of Tragic Beauty: Wet Edition. My chest does something deeply unhelpful.

I don’t even know him. I have never seen this man in my life.

And yet there he is, black hair plastered to his forehead,sharp features that are, frankly, unhelpful right now. I refuse to think about it. I’m clearly in denial, and he’s looking far too dramatic for someone who nearly ate a tree and is still tangled up in his dirt bike. Okay...maybe not too dramatic. I mean...he did crash because of me.

"Oh, for crying out loud". I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Why...Why now. Why like this?" I whined to the rain, to the rabbit, to any god watching.

As if to spite me further, his eyes fluttered open. A warm, sea-glass blue, dazed and slow to focus. I lean on my arm towards him to check if he's really conscious. For a heartbeat, he looked directly at me, and lightning cracked behind us, flashing in his gaze. For a moment, I caught my own reflection staring back. My chest twisted like a wrung-out rag.

Then his eyelids dropped shut again.

"FUCK."

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