Hard Fall || Kozmotis & Jack
They called it “free running” for a reason. As much as parkour got a bad rap, Jack had more fun running around and flipping off of walls than he did walking around, playing competitive sports, or even skateboarding. It was a release. It was freedom. It was movement and agility and skill. He loved it. He’d had his fair share of spills and scars, though he’d yet to break any bones.
But as he slipped on the fire escape railing, it seemed he was about to found out just how much they hurt.
Jack barely caught himself about ten feet from hitting the ground, one hand grasping the railing as he turned, just in time. But an awful crunching in his shoulder made him gasp and drop; the only advantage was the slowed velocity, and he hit the ground a lot softer than he might have if he’d fallen the entire thirty-five feet, despite the clatter of the junk at his feet.
Groaning, Jack lay on his back and clutched painfully at his shoulder, grimacing and rolling onto his good side. He tried pushing himself upright, and he leaned against his knees and sucked in sharply through his teeth against the pain. Shit, what had he done? That wasn’t a break, he knew that.