A perfect, rather quiet evening, when Mike was heading home from his work. Sun was already setting and only a light breeze kept company. A perfect evening to do it with his bicycle, which was the only commute vehicle he could afford to now. Paying the rent from his tiny one room apartment was cheap, but he wanted to save money for college. His parents had promised to pay the most part of it, he just would have to do the rest. He honestly didn't mind it. He had all the time in the world when he was aiming for something.
Meantime he could focus on painting and making sure he was ready to fill the application when he had the money saved and get ready to study. Cause his other choice was to jump into this rat race and just work for nonsense job throughout his life. And that wasn't his idea of enjoying life. Even though when he thought himself as perfectionist he didn't see any point in making money just so that he could survive to the next day. That what he was like. Control was what he needed. Plan ahead, and also make sure you have a plan B if the first plan doesn't work out. Preferably also have the plan C, just to be extra cautious. Maybe that was his Japanese heritage and how he was raised. Or maybe it was just Mike being Mike.
But the flying trash can was something he didn't see coming. He rode his blue bicycle around the corner, heard a loud yell and then there was only lots of clattering and a blunt pain in his back. And legs. And little bit arms too. But not much on the head cause he could remember his mother's advice to use helmet, and sometimes actually even remembered to put it on.
"Ou", he breathed, sprawled on the sidewalk the wheels of the bicycle still spinning beside him.
When he managed to got his eyes to focus again there was a tall shadow standing over him.
"Dude. Why the fuck were you riding a bike so carelessly?" the smooth, low voice said.
"Assuming you were the one yelling, I can also assume you are the one who threw the trash can so I think I am pretty sure my question is more justified- why the fuck are you throwing trash cans so carelessly?" Mike blinked still trying to get over the pain that was gnawing his back.
"Sorry. I was pissed off. Let me help you", the voice said and then a large hand appeared in front of him.
He grabbed it gladly and groaned when he was being pulled to his feet. Mike was instantly stunned. Not cause of the pain, and the idea that he would probably have plenty of bruises but cause of the guy. He was actually only some inches taller than him, but he seemed bigger. It was something in his behavior that made him seem that way. Maybe the dark eyes that felt like staring right inside him, to his soul. He looked quite young, maybe his age. Hair cut really short, same dark brown as his eyes. The loose clothes hid his body but Mike could see the strong shoulders under the t-shirt.
But then Mike realized he was staring and it was probably annoying, so he shook his head dropping the gaze. The hand left his and the guy took a one small step back.
"You're okay? No bones broken?" he then asked his eyes traveling across Mike's body like searching for blood or something else revealing his injury.
"I'm fine. But wouldn't be without the helmet. The trash can was apparently empty too", Mike mumbled still confused by the whole encounter. It was rather rare to get tackled by a trash can in the middle of city center. Or he just wasn't never been the lucky one to be in that situation.
"Good. I'm in a rush but... yeah. Wasn't targeting you. Next time slow your speed in corners, okay?" the other said and after taking few steps back he turned on his heels and was gone.
Mike stood there, baffled. Mouth open staring behind the man. Slow your speed in corners? What the fuck! He was the one throwing shit and... he thought shaking his head in disbelief. But there was something in the guy's voice that wasn't pure arrogance. It had been laced with humor. Only tiny bit, but it had been there anyway.
Sighing he grabbed the bike and lifted it up. Only noticing that the handlebar wouldn't turn straight anymore. Which meant he couldn't ride the bike. And that meant he would have to walk. It was only half an hour or so more, but it annoyed the hell out of him. Cause it meant that he would have to walk tomorrow or figure something else out until he could fix the bike.
Sighing another time, more heavily, he started to walk. And he didn't know why, but the tall, dark and particularly handsome stranger was filling his mind. He didn't even say his name, he thought crossing yet another street walking the bike with him, that couldn't stay straight.