Chapter Text
There was a reason why Sisco Karlisle chose to take backroads while riding his bike - and that was to go at top speeds without injuring someone else, or being flagged down for “reckless driving” and “speeding”.
Nothing was wrong with going 75 MPH in a 40 MPH zone, if no one was around to witness it, right? Especially with his one goal in mind - get as far away from home as possible. He had his hands tightened on the bars, his foot on the gas, and the single headlight illuminating the dark street ahead of him. Sisco was driving through a forested area - the place was pretty hidden, but Sisco had just been making random turns so he completely lost his way from where he was originally going. That didn’t really matter at this time of night. It was midnight on a Saturday, after all. Nothing he wanted to take care of would be open, so the joyride was more of an impulse than anything else. Impulse seemed to be the only decisions he ever made at this point.
It was dead silent on the outside - the only sound being the rumble of his motorcycle’s engine, the tires against the damaged asphalt road. The nearby trees and bushes rustled by the wind being generated by the speed of his bike, his vest flowing back in the wind. Sisco was sure he was alone on the roads, he hadn’t seen another car for miles. Driving never got old. Whenever he was upset, anxious, or just needed some air, he took his bike out for hours at a time. It made the pain go away, just for a little bit. Just enough so he could forget the world, and listen to the outside. His favorite place to go was a secluded cliff, looking over a beach with small ants of people walking along below. It made him feel taller, bigger, better than what he really was. He was the one in control. He was the one looking down on them - not the other way around. Today, though, he missed that turn. He was leaving that place behind. Sisco was leaving that whole world behind, it didn’t matter to him anymore. He’d been riding for almost three hours now. The only thing he had with him were the clothes on his back, the bag securely attached to the back with everything he’d need to start over, and his bike. That was all he needed. He had no friends to leave behind, and certainly no family.
As far as he was concerned? The Sisco Karlisle they knew was dead. And he didn’t give a single flying fuck what they did when they found his room empty in the morning. They never cared before, and they certainly weren’t going to care that he was missing. It was probably only a matter of time before he was going to get kicked out - Sisco just decided to make the first move. There wasn’t anything left for him anymore. He’d rather be homeless and dying in a ditch than have his mental health suffer in that hell that he called a house. He did what he wanted. Prim and proper parents didn’t like that very much.
He was getting pretty lost in his thoughts. That’s what silence on a road did to you. It was only just in time that Sisco snapped back to reality and remembered that he was driving. It was a good thing that he did, too - because out of nowhere, a single deer bounded out from the trees, right in the middle of the road. Sisco cursed out loud, screaming, no time to slow down and hit the breaks - he swerved off to the side, tires screeching on the asphalt. Sisco crashed into the trees, his leg making a sick crack as he fell off the bike, the bike itself skidding a few inches away from him. Sisco’s helmet took the brunt of the impact, but god damn it, it still hurt! His visor cracked, and he hit that tree hard - he felt a bit of blood on the back of his head. His body was bruised, his jacket ripped up, small cuts bleeding, and his leg definitely should not be bent that way. Sisco blacked out, but at least the deer wasn’t a corpse on the road.
No one should ask why Free De La Hoya was awake at this hour, taking a walk in the woods. His house definitely wasn’t far from the forest, and sometimes he just wanted to walk. However, the thing was, Free was usually alone. When he heard a sudden engine, a shout, a crash, and then silence. Something was definitely wrong. That did not sound good. Free decided to check it out - they might need help. As he pushed through the trees to the single road near his house, he caught sight of what must have happened. The deer was running away by now, and judging by the person on the ground and the motorbike a small distance away...this guy was bad at driving.
He was joking. Mostly. Free wondered what he should do. This guy wasn’t dead, right? He knelt down, feeling the guy’s wrist for a pulse, relieved when he found one. So he was alive, but he didn’t look too good. There was little cell phone reception out here, and the nearest clinic was a fair distance away, so Free didn’t have much of a choice. It was probably a bad idea to take a complete stranger into his house, but it wasn’t like he could do anything to Free. Free was definitely capable of taking care of himself. He picked the guy up into his arms, unsure about the bike. It didn’t look damaged, maybe there was a dent? He couldn’t tell in the dark.
Okay, guy first, bike later. That was probably the easiest thing to do. Free would take this guy back, then drag the bike. Maybe he could get it fixed? He unstrapped the bag that, somehow, only had some mud smudges on it, deciding that it was probably important. With that collected, Free made his way back home to start tending to the strange person’s wounds. Free laid him down on the couch. He didn’t seem to have any big injuries, except for the leg, which definitely looked broken. Free suspected he would wake up with a killer headache, though. Free cleaned each wound of mud and dirt, bandaged the big cuts, and propped his leg up with his bag so it wasn’t in too much distress. Free took off the guy’s helmet, and was kind of blown away with how stunning, this man was. He had a pained expression on his face, and some tufts of green hair were over his eyes, which were shut tight. He had glasses with purple tinted lenses that were gently obscured, and said lenses were cracked. Those were busted. Free took those off his nose, setting them aside just in case. Suffice to say, Free had found a beautiful man.
Okay, okay, admire him later, get the bike next. Free retraced his steps to the side of the road, finding the abandoned motorcycle right where he’d left it. Free couldn’t see what kind of shape it was in - the moon was disappearing behind the clouds, which meant he should get back home quickly and go to bed for the night. Not that he would know anything about motorcycles anyway. It was a bit of a hassle to drag back, but Free was stronger than he looked, and soon the bike was parked in a storage shed next to his house. Huh. Never thought he’d actually use that thing. Well, with that done, it had been a little over two hours, and all that exertion made Free want to pass out right there. Despite that, he walked inside, locked the doors, checked on the unconscious guy, and decided to head to bed for the night. Well, maybe not upstairs. Free was a heavy sleeper and probably wouldn’t hear if this guy tried to kill him until it was too late. If he left? Fine. Free wouldn’t be offended. He’d be pretty freaked out if he woke up in a random stranger’s house too, though this guy probably couldn’t get far with his leg broken. At least Free had given the guy a warm place to stay for the night. Sleeping on hard asphalt wouldn’t be fun, and who knows, someone that wasn’t as friendly might have found him instead. Honestly, he’d deal with it in the morning. Sleep was calling his name, and Free settled on the chair with a thick blanket, drifting off with ease.