Summary: The annual cross-country run has finally come and, whether you like it or not, you’re doomed to spend your morning baking in sweltering heat and pushing your legs until they scream.
When you trip and twist your ankle you wonder if there’s any point in hoping someone will help you, especially when certain athletic students seem hellbent on winning.
•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
The Great Seven must have grown tired of your prayers to survive the Cross-Country run. You’d had your hands clasped together all morning begging them to fill you with some divine stamina.
In the dining hall, dozens of students from your gym class had overflowed their plates with protein in preparation for the big event. But their discussions all seemed to point towards the same question:
What was the point in running at all?
Winning was out of the question. Especially against Jack and Vil whom ran for fun and had physiques like marble statues. The pair were nowhere to be seen at breakfast. No doubt they were already warming up on the field.
•~•~•
Your gym kit clung to your skin. The race hadn’t even started yet but you were dripping with sweat. Vargas had chosen to host the run on the hottest day of the year.
Was it too late to fakean injury?
“Take your marks!” Vargas raised the start pistol high into the air. After quickly checking no one was on a broom- BANG! You were off.
A few souls were stupid enough to sprint ahead, but were soon overtaken by those going at a steady pace.
Your heart trembled in your chest. Lactic acid gnawed at your muscles, begging you to stop. But once you’d gotten over the first bout of exhaustion, you settled into a steady jog. Others were beginning to find their rhythm, too, and soon the race became spaced out.
•~•~•
Unkempt grass ticked your ankles, birds twittered in trees; making bets amongst themselves on which runner would beat whom. A dainty breeze glided across your boiling skin and kindly chilled it. You almost forgot you were on a run at all.
Is this how Jack and Vil feel when they run? you wondered. No wonder they did it for fun. Jogging through the countryside was blissful. Your leisurely pace had probably put you at the back by now, but you didn’t care.
“Don’t drag your feet as much, you might hurt your ankle.”
You jumped and spun around, colliding straight into Jack Howl. You couldn’t believe it. Surely the wolf beastman ought to have been miles ahead of you. Did that mean you weren’t as bad as thought?
“Thanks,” you squeaked, pushing yourself off his chest. The two of you settled back into a rhythm after exchanging awkward apologies. “Why are you so far behind?” you asked. “Don’t you do ten laps of the school before breakfast every day.”
“We’re not passed the halfway point yet.”
Your heart dropped into your stomach. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Vil and I have a bet to see who’ll win. Even though I’m a beastman that exercises a lot, I’m not immune to the fact if I over-exert myself I’ll bonk out. It’s best to go slow for 95% of a marathon, and then burn everything you’ve got left at the end.”
“If we’re not even at 50% I don’t see how I’ll even see 95% of this through.”
“And at 10%, when the lactic acid kicks in, no one can imagine getting to 50%. Yet here we are.”
Jack slicked his hair back from his scalp. His muscles glistened with sweat as his chest rose and fell like a powerful engine. There was certainly something about the strongest kid at school subtly reassuring you that made you want to see this through to the end. Even if you weren’t in contest with anyone, the determination to prove Jack’s words weren’t wasted was enough to spur you on.
•~•~•
The morning ticked by and you hadn’t seen anyone for most of it. The occasional students you passed were walking and chatting. Regardless of how much Jack barked at them to at least try and run the whole thing, he was shrugged off.
“They could be worse,” you said, running a little faster to keep from getting scolded yourself. “During cross-country at my old school these boys parked their cars at checkpoints around the course. Whenever a teacher was coming, they’d brake and run to a different car. They were caught in the end and we made to do the whole race again in the pouring rain days later.”
Jack clamped his lips together. Had you upset him? Had you opened yourself up to receive a lecture on those boys’ behalf? His face contorted as if pressure was building inside it. Then, to your relief, his mouth burst open with a booming laugh.
“Serves them right!”
You would have laughed too had you not smelled musty perfume on the air. Vil Schoenheit suddenly came running up behind you. His stride, his breathing, the way his sleeves were rolled up to his toned biceps, was perfect. You’d forgotten how powerful the man was under his dainty exterior. “Kick it into high gear now, Jack,” he said, picking up the pace. “The finish line’s practically a stone’s throw away.”
“Go on!” You clapped Jack on the back.
Jack didn’t need to be told twice. Without taking his eyes off his competition he picked up his knees and started running. It was incredible. How did he have the strength to do that? Vil’s shoulders tensed at Jack’s heavy footsteps crushing the grass behind him.
You didn’t want to miss a second of their silent fight.
Somehow, you had a little bit of stamina left. Jack and Vil were neck and neck. When one pulled forward, the other pushed themselves to catch up. They seemed like perfect counterbalances, forever exchanging strength from one to another so they never lost their flow.
You were so absorbed in what you saw that you hadn’t noticed your shoelaces had come undone. Jack had been right. You shouldn’t have dragged your feet so much. If you had listened, maybe you wouldn’t have tripped on them. Maybe you wouldn’t have fallen over. Maybe you wouldn’t have heard your ankle click.
Pain shot up your leg. You screamed.
Jack’s ears twitched. He spun around and froze at the sight of you writhing on the grass. Vil’s less sensitive ears didn’t seem to hear you. And if they did, he ignored you and kept powering ahead. Jack was caught at a cross roads.
Ever since turning up in Twisted Wonderland the likes of Jack Howl was the last kind of person you’d expected to befriend. He was - quite literally - a lone wolf, with physical fitness and sporting prowess being his key motivations. Despite being a part of your first-year squad, his commitment to exercise was what kept him from mingling with you and the others the most.
Still, you clung to the hope he’d help you.
Jack turned and ran after Vil again.
You weren’t sure what you were crying over: the pain in your ankle, or the fact you’d been left like a wounded horse to fend for itself. You tried to focus on the fact you wanted Jack to win. It took your mind off it, a little. Friends supported each other, right? You didn’t want him to fail because of you.
•~•~•
“UNLEASH THE BEAST!”
You turned towards the sudden cry and saw a cloud with paws bounding towards you. Now you’d definitely gone mad from the heat. It looked like a shaggy sheep. A sheep with sharp teeth. And fur. Whatever it was you couldn’t get away from it. You were too tired to even scream.
Once the beast was upon you it immediately shimmied its snout under your back and shook its shoulders to ease you onto its hide.
Fur, soft as silk, stroked your clammy face. You felt like a cygnet in its mother’s eiderdown. Satisfied about how it had positioned you, the wolf took off at a leisurely pace. You winced and seethed, but your noises were always met with the wolf looking back to check on you.
Before long, you reached the finish line.
Most of the students were already there, laying on the grass with increasingly reddening skin. Vil was one of the few still standing. He stood with his arms crossed and head cocked back in triumph.
“Turning into your wolf form, Jack?” said Mr Vargas, looking up from his clipboard. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to run the whole thing again for cheatin- Oh.”
Jack knelt down. You were resting peacefully on his back…and how could you not have fallen asleep against such fluffy trapeziuses?
Vargas looked you over and sighed at your ankle. It had turned purple. If it wasn’t broken it was definitely sprained nastily. “Perhaps I’ll make an exception for this then. Everyone! Hit the showers! See you again tomorrow for flying class.”
While Vargas went off to get his first-aid kit, Jack busied himself by taking your shirt collar in his mouth and laying you down flat on the grass. He made sure to keep your ankle elevated on his back. The pain woke you up and he whined in apology.
A mere glance into the wolf’s eyes and you knew who it was immediately. “Jack?”
He chuffed affirmatively.
You couldn’t stop your smile. Did you seriously mean enough to someone in this world that they would sacrifice their pride just to make sure you were alright? The very thought made the tears flow.
Vargas came back with a pep in his step that put you at ease. Surely a bad injury wouldn’t make your teacher happy. “It’s a good thing it’s flying class tomorrow, (Y/N),” he said heartily. “Whether you have a broken ankle or a broken neck, you can still fly a broomstick.”
Or not.
•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Author note:
What’s this? 2 fan fictions in 2 days? Que!?
Yeah ^^” I’m back on the old horse by the looks of things.
Truth is that I’ve caught COVID and have not spent a second away from my computer over the last 4 days. It’s definitely an ideal time to get stuck in with writing. I hope you like this one :) I haven’t written a fic on Jack as one of the protagonists before!
*This is based on the birthday lines the boys say to you and my best reactions to some of them. I have linked the video so pls show your support to the person who took the time to translate it for us.*
