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His weight fell on the swing with some relief, finally allowing his single leg a moment to rest. Félix put away his cane under the swing, flexing his stiff knuckles, which were red and sore from the effort of having to drag his body around throughout this evening.
How could he even begin to explain how this happened? One moment, he was lying peacefully under a tree in the park by his school, both legs attached to his knee sockets, the next, he couldn’t find his prosthetic anywhere he could reach.
He had an inkling as to who might be the cause of this predicament, but who’d believe him? Not his father, that was for sure.
Félix groaned, the swings’ chains creaking under his grip as he leaned forwards and the swings swayed back.
‘Least he had a spare prosthetic in his house. Now to get there still today…
A poke on his arm startled him, almost causing him to fumble to the ground.
“Sorry!” The cause of his start jumped back, the hand they used to poke him raised as they laughed apologetically. “I’ve been trying to call your attention, but you seemed really zoned out?”
“Oh.” He was too distracted to notice someone else had sat on the swing besides him. “Sorry, Marinette.”
“S’ fine.” She waved it away, leaning back on her swing as she propped it forwards, then she bent forwards, feet kicking up dirt to propel herself further back and forwards again. “Decided to go out without prosthetics today?” she had to raise her voice for it to be heard over the movement.
Creak, creeaaak, the swing went. Reaching further back or forwards each time. Marinette’s pigtails swaying in tendon with the swing’s beat as her oversized jacket fluttered around her like a beetle’s wings.
“Félix?” she shouted again, and he just barely caught the quizzical look in her eyes behind the blurriness the constant swinging caused.
“Uhm–” Félix looked away, a hand scratching at his warm cheek as he shook off the trance he had been in. “What was the question, again?”
“Your prosthetic.” She knocked her heels on the ground, soles scratching through the sand with a skirrrrr as the swing slowed down. “Not using it today?”
“Y-yeah.” Félix winced, whipping his face away from her as it burned up from a completely different sorta embarrassment. “I, uhm– my knee’s been in pain these last few days, so I– yeah.”
The lie tasted sour on his tongue, and made his insides churn with guilt, but what else was he supposed to do? Telling her it was stolen while he napped was not only humiliating, it’d make her needlessly worry about him. (Not to mention, she’d be the last person to believe his suspicion.)
“Where’s your wheelchair, then?” she questioned again, and Félix peeked at her from the corner of his eye. “Or some crutches?” She directed a befuddled look at him, then gasped. “Félix, the cane’s for aiding with the prosthetic!” she berated, thumping her feet on the ground for emphasis. “You know that– you told me that!”
“Yeah, I know.” Félix shut his eyes tight, feeling worse by the second. “It’s just… well–” He let out a sharp exhale, turning away from her to avoid finishing the excuse.
He could feel her gaze piercing the back of his neck, but he was in too deep to turn back around now, so he kept staring at the ground as the swings’ slow creaks filled the uncomfortable air between them.
A sigh broke the tense silence, followed by shuffling of feet on dirt as Marinette’s form moved to stand before him.
“C’mon–” She extended him a hand, a soft smile gracing her features. “–I’ve still got that wheelchair we salvaged from the junkyard back at home. It’s now fully oiled up and safety-tested, and I even added some bonuses!”
Relieved that she dropped the topic, Félix happily accepted his friend’s help and, after retrieving his cane, stood up with her as support on one side, his cane on the other.
“It’s not gonna shoot glitter into my face, is it?” he joked, some of his nerves seeping to his voice.
“‘Course not!” she replied with exaggerated afront, huffing and slightly puffing her chest. Then she looked away, murmuring, “I couldn’t find a way to attach the glitter-cannon on it.”
Félix giggled, his back feeling a lot lighter as he walked through the streets with Marinette’s help.
“It does, however,” Marinette continued, tilting her head in his direction with a large grin, “have a fully functional cassette player!”
“Huh.” Félix blinked, turning to look at her with a properly awed smile. “That’s pretty cool.”
“Isn’t it?” she almost squealed, and he could tell by the energy radiating off of her that she wanted to bounce, but restrained herself for his sake—it made him appreciate her all the more. “It’s retro, I know, but it’s what Seb had in the back—and you like retro, too! Anyway– I tried fixing it in a way that won’t get in the way of your movement or comfort, and I think I managed it, but I want your input on it, and–”
Félix took in a deep breath, focusing on his movements as they made their way to her house; away from strict fathers and thieving brothers. He’d still have to do something about his stolen prosthetic, but for now, he’d lean on Marinette and let her voice wash away his worries.