island unknown | advanced rp discussion
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“Fuck!” Mateo groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as an intense wave of pain shocked his head.
Nothing made sense. There was something grainy and wet pressed against his cheek and his entire body was buzzing with attention. The pain that was coursing through him did not remain in one single area - it was like it traveled a path from his head to his frazzled arms and crushed chest to his limp legs. It took another moment of a silence that wasn’t so silent - waves were crashing in his ears and everything became conjoined in a loud whistle - for Mateo to even think about opening his eyes.
With heavy lids, he struggled to raise them, struggled to see much of anything. There was sand in his eyes, sticking to his wet face and cheeks and even in his mouth. Long, dark lashes fluttered rapidly against the highs of his cheekbones until he was able to discern the colors that were blurring his vision - hues of blue and green and red and black flashed in and out for another moment before it became mostly brown and blue. When Mateo finally was able to raise his head off the ground, he saw a beach ahead of him.
He struggled to rise up. It took him a few moments of simply staring at the high cliffs and the waves washing onto the shore for him to even attempt to lift his hands up to the surface he was lying on. The wet sand hooked onto his fingers and his chest as he tried to push himself off of the ground. But, after gathering as much strength as he could, Mateo managed to throw himself onto his back instead. That was when he saw the sky - a blue, cloudy sky and the sun peaking out behind a few larger ones.
Wait - the sky?
Mateo’s eyes jerked open now and he suddenly became far more aware of his surroundings. His fingers grappled onto the sand, trying to push himself into a sitting position. And when he finally managed to do so, he felt something cold running up his thighs - water. Mateo tried looking down, but his neck was cramping in the worst way and he only caught a glimpse of one leg sticking out of the water and sand before he crashed back down against the sand. “H-Help! Help!” he cried out, fingers digging into the sand again as he tried to see if there was anyone else surrounding him. His vision was still cloudy and - oh there was such excruciating pain coming from down below. “I-I can’t feel my leg! Someone please help!” Mateo panicked, a hand desperately trying to press below, but not being able to reach his leg, but his body was still in shock.
Where was Winnie? And Ren? The team - the entire team? What - what happened to the plane!
Winnie wasn't the go-to person in a moment of panic. In fact she was probably the single, last person to go to for help when put in a emergency situation. At least in terms of how to handle the actual issue at hand. However, comforting others was something she could definitely do. And well. Unfortunately Winnie never was great at helping herself. She had all the advice in the world for her friends and family that could end heartbreaks and cure test taking anxiety, but none of it was ever applied to her own problems. Winnie was often accused of even using others as a distraction from herself, but that was what she deemed impossible and simply untrue.
Though Winnie's empathy wouldn't do much for her current state, which consisted of her half floating atop a ripped up chair, while the rest of her dangled in the water. The waves were the only thing disturbing the peace as the ocean's movement tugged at her hair and her gnashed clothes. Her lips were dangerously close to being submerged by the saltwater, the soft though crackled pink just about to meet the intense deep blues. It couldn't have been long since the initial crash of the plane where the nose of the aircraft had collided with the unforgiving surfaces of water and sand, detonating fragments of chairs, windows, carpet, and god knows what all over the expanse of their unknown location.
As the padding of Winnie's hands began to shrivel with the absorption of the saltwater, everything about the young girl was beginning to wither towards the mysterious depths of the ocean. Every wave that hit her was sending another inch off of the gnarled cushions of the chair, and deeper into the watery grave. Perhaps somewhere in the unconscious mind of Winnie, she didn't want to wake up. It was all so... tranquil and untroubled. Like a day at the beach. Or the backyard pool parties where she'd take a mini power nap on top of those silly inflatable swans or donuts until Mateo or Ren would pounce on her.
Except this time, it wasn't as fun awakening. A whirlwind of motion spasmed within Winnie as a shout roared seemingly past her eardrums. Once her ears felt pain, then the rest of her body, not wanting to miss out, swiftly followed. Next it was her throat that had definitely swallowed a great deal of saltwater. Then the throb of a headache, specifically behind her eyes. Not to mention, the biting stings of her eyes to the point where she was frightened to even open them. And then all at once, the rest of her body fervently ached. She would have screamed for help, like the shout that brought her back to consciousness, but her breath was currently stolen. The entire overload of each sense sent a frenzy... everywhere. She was suffocating despite the ample air that sent a soft breeze curling against her cheekbones.
The plane, the plane, the plane. That was where she was last. Winnie had been sat in between the two boys she loved and cared for so dearly. Oh god, the boys. Where were they? Were they hurt? They couldn't be. They were sitting right next to her, and she seemed to be semi-okay.
A whimper was all that seemed to slip out of her, a sad noise that wavered and hit just a few feet in front of her before being lost in the currents of air and water. The weight of her wet clothes and hair was only making matters worse. She had to do better. Goddamn it why wasn't her body listening to her. She was never going to get out; her muscles, energy, and motivation was draining by the second. Slamming a fist against the incoming wave, a surge of frustration shot out from its festering state at her core. Winnie needed a plan for attention, she needed a way to that voice. It was so close, and it seemed so familiar. It was building up a new, ravenous need. She needed to pull herself back onto the chair for the advantage.
Ren couldn’t catch a break.
In addition to spending most of his spare time that week in ice baths or being taped up by the athletic trainers, he’d seen hotel room service more than he’d seen Mateo and Winnie. He wasn’t fond of the other guys on the team outside of soccer, he would have rather pulled out each of his teeth with pliers than peek next door when he heard loud booing during televised international matches or party games played with Redbull shots. Mateo and Winnie had always been his safety cushion when it came to social events, but they eluded him all week. He could never catch either of them alone, and to make matters worse, Roman seemed hell bent on making him miserable by giving him hell in the locker rooms or during scrimmages. As a junior now, Ren had playing time in almost every game, if not in the starting string, and by the end of the tournament, his ankle was killing him to the point he wore an ankle brace for even the flight home.
This had to be his lucky day.
Ren was in a daze, his lips coated with a dry chalky dust and a raw scratchiness in his throat as he came to. A pained moan involuntarily escaped him; his arm was stuck under the full weight of his body where he lay face down in… sand? The plane. Holy shit. “Guys-?” Lorenzo croaked hoarsely, mustering every ounce of strength he had left to push himself to his hands and knees. He kicked aside a large, warped aluminum sheet from off his legs, spitting gritty dirt from his mouth furiously. The tropical heat was making him delirious, but that didn’t stop him from staggering to his feet nursing his sore shoulder. “Winnie? ‘Teo?” Ren had his head on a swivel as he checked the rubble surrounding him. He could smell jet fuel. “Winnie?” She had been sitting next to him just before the plane had gone dark and a deafening boom had jerked Ren out of his seat.
He remembered now.
The screaming, grabbing her hand as the aircraft took a perilous nose dive. Winnie.Was she-? Not his Winnie. Ren refused to believe that she could be gone. “Winnie?” Ren’s voice cracked audibly, his eyes watering as shock consumed him. “Winnie!” He shrieked, staggering like a madman through the steaming plane wreck. It was like a graveyard; smoke billowed from every angle and he could hear people crying.
“Winnie!” Ren searched frantically, ignoring the smarting pain in his ankle as he scoured the scene. He found himself met with a floating portion of the plane, the water dense with fuel and oils that were spilling out from the engine. It was a surprise the thing wasn’t on fire; Winnie had to be close. He couldn’t have been thrown far. Right? “Winnie Akai-!” His voice was gruff from screaming her name as loud as he could as he waded into the water, eyeing floating seat cushions with tears streaking down his cheeks. Where the hell was she?
My God. A shoe drifted past him with the tide, and Ren just about collapsed into a helpless despairing fit of sobs when he spotted the unmistakable bright color of her jacket just a little further out. The tide was taking her and the wreckage where they had just hours before been peacefully cruising thousands of feet in the air towards the depths of the ocean.
“Winnie!”
Ren didn’t think twice about diving into the warm murky waters, sputtering seawater with every powerful swim stroke towards her. It was her, alright, adrift on a seat with tangles of other debris across her body. A week of intensive soccer and being rattled around the cabin of a jet had nothing on Ren’s willpower; he grit his teeth through the searing pains in his body and the foul taste of water mixed with god-knows-what until his fingers curled around the damp sinking cushion. “Winnie, I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Ren repeated over and over kissing her forehead, wrapping a protective arm around her middle and detangling her from the wreck while floating on his back until she was free. Her body was light in the water, but was she breathing? “Winnie? Can you hear me? Please say something, please, goddammit, Winnie-!” he begged tearfully, treading water as best as he could with one arm and the other arm hooked under hers so he could let her head rest against his chest. The current was stronger out here and his sneakers no longer reached the bottom.
Losing her motive to grapple the chair that threatened to float away, Winnie was instead suddenly wrapped up in a familiar embrace. She knew just by the grasp of the hands and the build of his shoulders that it was Ren that had found her. Well, alongside the great deal of shrieking as well as the disarray of swimming that brought him to her. Ren similar to Winnie, was most definitely not calm in emergencies. He was shouting for her, and considering her weak state, must have thought that she was unconscious. Or maybe it was because her eyes seemed to be so swollen that they could barely open. Though when she felt her chin find its way into the nuzzle of Ren's neck, the rest of her body seemed to go limp. It took everything in her to not burst out sobbing. It annoyed her that she couldn't be strong, but with their plane quite literally falling out of the sky and still feeling as if she was going to drown, Winnie couldn't do much but to entirely collapse into Ren's body and quietly cry into his shoulder. Her cheek was smushed into his collarbone, almost uncomfortably, and burning tears tumbled from her eyes and plopped either into the crevices of Ren's neck, or into the ocean water.
Because Winnie knew Ren for so long, she always knew what to say or how to act around the boy. Sometimes, she had be to careful because when Ren reacted to something, it was usually an explosion of yelling, wild hand gestures, and perhaps the threatening with fists if it really came down to it. When in panic, Winnie could not entirely show how terrified she was because it would fuel Ren to lose some parts of his sanity. He was such a genuine and sweet boy, he always fussed when it came to her or Mateo. So instead of crying out we are going tO DIE or something along those lines, Winnie rasped into Ren's neck "I'm okay, you doofus," her voice muffled as her lips were pressed against his salty skin.
But it really wasn't all okay, and she was still crying, they were still barely floating in the water, and their plane was still entirely blown to pieces.
Winnie then tilted her head to search for Ren's face, though she already knew what type of facial expression he would be wearing: wrinkled brows, a concerned hue of his eyes, and the determined set of his mouth. It was like he was back on the field, scrutinizing the field and strategizing ideas to land his claim on the ball. The whole picture of them in the water could have been beautiful, but the eeriness to it sadly steepened the tension and terror that owned them. The water illuminated both of their features. It highlighted the elevated points of their cheekbones and bridge of their noses as well as the sharp but also somehow soft bow of their lips. Winnie's eyes were glinting in fragments of caramel and bronzed sepia, just a few specks of gold sprinkling around her pupil, though they were fleeting as she scrutinized Ren.
"Ren I'm going to drown the both of us," She declared, "Are you hurt?"
When Winnie established relationships, she always looked to take care of her loved ones. Either meaning a pick-me-up milkshake after a tough game, or buying those ridiculous socks that seemed ugly to her, but somehow lit the happiest of grins. If a sprained ankle happened, which happened a lot in soccer, Winnie would be right there about to cross the line between the sidelines and the field just so she could be there to support, and maybe fighting the medic to do something.
Winnie was now furiously fighting Ren's hands so she could take a better look at his conditions. Was there blood? Bruising? She could barely see past the shred of his clothes that floated around him in flurry as the waves continued pushing them. Ironic how Winnie was tugging at his clothes to check his health while blood trickled from somewhere above her hairline, however with the darkened shades of her hair from the water, it was difficult to see past the stringy tendrils of her hair.
Stone-faced Ren was shockingly quite emotional even if he liked to think that he wasn’t. Especially when it came to Winnie and Mateo, he couldn’t hold back his outbursts, whether they be cheerful ones, terrifyingly mean ones or, in this case, despairing ones. He could have easily found a lifeless, dull carcass floating on that seat instead, to be haunted by memories of the girl he loved, her glassy eyes and purple skin. That could have been the way he remembered her, and he swore up and down to heaven that he would be a better person for this miracle. He couldn’t afford a suit for Winnnie’s funeral, anyway, so she was going to have to hold off on the dying thing. When Winnie’s sweet, sweet dark eyes blinked up at him at last, Ren held her in what was practically a headlock to his collarbone and sobbed uncontrollably.
He was a sight; a grown-ass man with shaggy dark hair matted to his forehead with water, bruising on half of his face, ash streaking any visible tan skin. The black long sleeve practice shirt and heather gray sweatpants he’d worn for the chilly plane ride now weighed on him, saturated and heavy to the point where keeping them afloat was becoming a challenge with large pieces of wreckage threatening to glide past them into the course of the tide.
“I love you,” Ren pressed the same lips she’d iced earlier that week after he’d been hit by another player’s head to her temple, murmuring the words tenderly to her. His voice wavered but Ren wasn’t concerned about being embarrassed right now. He had genuinely been afraid for her life, and hew as just happy to hear her voice and see her lips. She said she was okay, but everything he was seeing said otherwise. He had to know if she had lost a lot of blood, how bad her injuries were, what kind of infections they were looking at here- Ren’s mind buzzed with all the possibilities of things that could go wrong.
Winnie had always looked out for him, from the first day they’d met in high school. Swirly, handwritten notes were slipped into his locker on shitty days, and if he got taken out of the game and plopped onto the bench for either bad behavior on the field or injury, Winnie was elbowing her way past field security with ice packs or snacks to come sit on the bench with him, venting how pissed she was at the refs. Even if she was dating Mateo now, she still held him sometimes or let him rest his head on her lap while she tangled her fingers in his hair while criticizing that he needed a haircut. Winnie was that friend, and a little something more. Not that he’d ever acknowledge it.
“I’m fine,” Ren answered truthfully when she began to fuss over him in true Winnie fashion, and he quickly remembered to become agitated when she began checking under his shirt, under his wet mop, and across his chest and shoulder whether or not he was secretly bleeding out and not telling her in true Ren fashion. “Stop, Win, I’m okay,” he insisted, but his voice hardly had the usual curt edge he got away with most days. Defeated was one word to describe how he was feeling right now, because even if he had Winnie safely in his arms, their fucking ride home was splintered in thousands, millions of fragments. When was the military going to come rescue them? This had to be Hawaii, or nearby; surely someone somewhere would have seen the trail of black smoke the jetliner left streaking across the blue sky and alerted authorities, right?
While Winnie had been busy prying at his face and hair to see if he was intact, Ren had started navigating them to shore until his waterlogged sneakers touched the sandy bank. “Does anything hurt? You’re shivering, what is that blood from?” Lorenzo fired off questions sooner than she could answer them, the water gradually dipping towards waist level. “Can you stand? I want to check everything, and you need dry clothes, some water…” he turned her over in the water so she could give upright, normal posture a shot. Now that half of his body was out of the water, he was dripping from head to toe. Aside form minor injuries, Ren had walked away scot-free. Perhaps the universe would had worse tortures in mind, for now the said worse torture being Winnie’s incessant mom-ing.
Roman was always blessed with tremendous luck.
He never got caught. He never got any serious injuries in matches, only the inevitable sore muscles from rigorous training. So it could be said that he let his guard down at times. He didn’t think that anything could get the upper hand on him if it really came down to it. But he was obviously wrong.
The sound of waves crashing invaded his senses, the supposedly soothing sound loud and cruel and only worsening the persistent pounding of his head. It took a while for his entire system to seemingly catch up with his condition, an excruciating ache coursing through his body, stiffening his limbs and causing him to gasp for air, only to inhale a salty liquid that flooded his lungs. The shock of not being able to breathe caused his eyes to open, vision hazy and thoughts disoriented as all he could see was a vast and endless blue. No people, no airplane seats. Just blue.
Where was he?
Maybe it was the burning sensation as his lungs seemed to scream for oxygen or the extensive pain that seeped all the way into his bones but his brain suddenly went into overdrive, a state of panic that caused him to inhale - a bad choice given the fact he was well on his way to drowning. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as Roman willed his sluggish limbs to move, fighting against the heavy weight of the water. He wasn’t going to die like this. He was going to live out his natural lifespan on this Earth after achieving all the goals he ever set out for himself and he couldn’t do that at the bottom of the ocean.
The surface came closer and closer, Roman holding his breath as he pushed himself even more. Drenched blonde hair, turned brown from the water, appeared above the water. Roman breathed in and out, taking long and exaggerated breathes, never appreciating air as much as he did in that moment. His eyes burned from the water and his throat felt scratchy and dry but he couldn’t focus on that. What was important is getting to safety. His blue eyes were almost blinded by the sun, the heat burning his skin as he crawled onto the shoreline, sand sticking to his skin. His body collapsed from fatigue, back hitting the sand and head tilting to the side. It was only then he noticed the scene before him.
Debris scattered all over the beach, suitcases and large pieces of jagged metal buried in the sand. The most noticeable thing was the entire wing of the plane that jutted out from the ground. His mind was slow to the uptake, gradually putting together the pieces and connecting the dots until he came to a conclusion that only made him realize more he was in deeper shit than he could ever have imagined. The plane crashed. The plane crashing meant that he was stuck here. Being stuck here meant that there was no sure way that he would ever make it home.
Fuck.
He closed his eyes again, wishing that this was just a dream that he was having and that he was actually on the plane right now, taking a nice nap and well on his way back to life. Go back to annoying the shit out of Ren for simple kicks, hanging out with Winnie and trying his best to ignore Mateo. That’s what he wanted to believe. But everything was too real - the pain was too intense, the heat of the sun was too hot, his labored breathing was too loud. It was sensing everything to such a high degree it couldn’t be fake and that meant he was currently living a nightmare.
It was probably not a sane decision but he didn’t try to get up. He needed time to digest what was going on. He needed a minute to calm down and try to get past the shock of how suddenly things have changed, how quickly things went to absolute shit. But he couldn’t really have that minute because he heard shouts in the distance, the voice familiar and almost haunting given the fact it was very possible that everyone he actually knew died from the crash. A groan slipped from his lips as he sat up, an elbow digging into the sand as his other hand wiped away a trail of blood that trickled from above his eyebrow. He staggered as he stood up on his feet, drenched clothes sticking to his skin from both water and blood from the scratches that littered his body. Limping slightly, he moved towards the direction of the voice, a little distance away from where he had swam to shore.
In all three years of knowing him, Roman could not say that he has ever been relieved to see Mateo. But it certainly happened in the grimmest of situations. Steely blue eyes took in the sight of Mateo sprawled out on the sand, body caked with sand and practically screaming bloody murder about his legs. With a puzzled look, Roman looked in the direction of his legs. There were definitely two of them and they looked relatively fine which made Mateo’s panicking amusing to him, an emotion he never thought he would experience so soon.
Roman took a hold of Mateo, grunting slightly as he pulled him further away from the water so that he was more securely on the shore and didn’t face the risk of being pulled in by the high tide. Roman then stepped in front of his teammate, a seemingly worried look on his face as if he was seeing something truly mortifying. “Shit Mateo. Your leg…” He gave him a convincing pitying look, stooping beside him and putting a hand on his shoulder as a means to comfort him. His words trailed off as if he was too anxious to say anything more but then he simply scoffed, placing a hand on Mateo’s thigh and squeezing it hard enough so he could feel it. “Is completely fine so no need to be a drama queen.” He finished off, sitting on the sand instead of stooping to stop straining his aching limbs.
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His head was resting in the sand again, his entire body drenched wet and throbbing everywhere. It was like everything that he would feel on a normal level was being amplified by one hundred. This was pain unlike anything that he'd ever felt before. Being a goalie for the team, he was used to getting hit by really fast, hard balls all over his body. He'd come home from practices battered and bruised from rough play when he was in the goal and the times that he was out on the field too. He'd suffered broken bones, heavy bleeding, and mind boggling concussions too, but this was something out of the ordinary. His entire body was buzzing to attention, demanding that he shift around and move to make sure that he was actually okay and that he wasn't just convincing himself that he was. But, Mateo was so sure of it - he couldn't feel his leg and he didn't know why.
Was it even there? From the looks of his surroundings - what little of the beach he could take a look at because his neck was stiffened tight from the hard impact of hitting his head when he landed - this entire beach was a mess. There was debris from the plane spread out everywhere. Bits of shiny metal and ash still floated down in the air around him, getting caught in his mouth and his eyes as he tried to move. His legs were caught in the tide though, the sand heavy and acting much like chains to keep him locked within their embrace. He struggled to move, trying to rise up on his elbows and yank himself out of the water. But, before he knew it, there was someone's hands on his arms, pulling him back, carrying his body through the wet sand and onto drier land. He caught sight of his leg then and there was definitely red soaked through his pants. Just a glimpse of the red was enough to make him dizzy.
His head slowly lifted up to see who his savior was, but the sight of the sun made the face above him darker. It was only once he'd haphazardly rubbed at his eyes did he see that blonde hair and worried face. Since when did Roman Campion ever look worried? Mateo was dazed as he stared at his teammate above him, latching onto this image of him - there was something so relieving about seeing him in front of him now even though all he had been trying to do for the past day was avoid him. Roman's lips were moving and Mateo, for the life of him, could not look away from that pink mouth shifting into different positions and meet his eyes. It was only when he'd felt something warm and tender squeeze his thigh that he bucked up, his back rising off of the sand and his hands pressing up against his own leg in shock.
Mateo was practically panting as he widened his eyes at the sight of his leg, shocked by the feeling that was running through it, and then at the boy sitting next to him on the beach, blood dripping down the side of his face. "You're bleeding -" he breathed, suddenly raising his hand towards Roman's face to do - Mateo didn't know what he was doing. He saw his hand mid air and that was when he saw more red - his hand was covered in it.
Mateo let his hand drop back into his lap before he slowly began to inspect himself, eyes drawing back towards the red that soaked the front of his pants. It was then that he caught sight of something silver on the side of his right thigh - there was a piece of jagged metal stuck in his leg. "Shit - fuck..." he exhaled shakily, both of his hands patting at the area, trying to feel the raised, swollen skin around the intruding object. It was definitely an angry injury, but it didn't look very deep - hopefully it was just a surface wound that could be treated very easily. After a moment of trying to move again, Mateo found that his body was in shambles. His left shoulder was hanging limp and it was very likely that he'd dislocated it - after all, it had been dislocated before during a previous soccer game. Mateo remembered the feeling well.
That was when he remembered the others. Mateo's eyes were more alert, darting over to Roman in a panic before looking out at their surroundings. He spotted other people, some in a similar state as he was, dazed and confused, and others not moving at all. "Win - and - and Ren. Wh-Where are they?" he stammered, shifting again. Mateo didn't have the strength to stand completely, but he tried anyway, rolling over onto his right elbow and attempting to scoot himself up into a standing position. Though he managed to get on his feet, all he really got was a face full of sand in his eyes and mouth.
Ren was currently playing puppet with Winnie's slender arms and legs, clasping them to prevent their evident desire to flop uselessly back towards the ground. Gravity certainly was not a friend of her's especially considering how the weight of the water was still looking to shove her, or maybe even dig her into the sand. The only thing preventing Winnie to crumple in a cluttered heap was Ren, who was also still listing out question after question without pause. He seemed so much tough with his undeniable durability and assertiveness, of course nothing less than the usual ways of Ren. The fact that he maintained a well built stance for himself and Winnie was simply incredulous. She almost wanted to go back to the water where her body could at least roughly stay afloat on her own, and that she was doing something right. They, rather Ren, had trudged through the ocean water and reached the beach of the island. If you could even call it that. It seemed more like a turmoil of . a yard sale, with portions of the plane torn apart into curling or enflamed shards of metal. In between the wing and maybe half the body of the plane, lay other chairs, and random suitcases or bags that lay as slack as she felt. The peaceful air back in the water was now entirely gone, noises of the metal whining and creaking in response to the wreck. It was all so loud, haunting her ears. Winnie's alarmed state was returning, calling back the initial panic attack that she was experiencing before Ren had found her. The air was fried, the stench sourly unfurling in her nose and immediately causing a crinkle of her skin with her wincing.
She could have spent another few hours staring horribly at the surrounding upheaval. Before her eyes could zero in on the layout of the unconscious bodies, Ren heaved her up in a standing position, luring her attention back to him.
"Ow," Winnie yelped as she snapped to her feet, one foot automatically claiming her entire weight while the other boosted upwards. Attached to her ankle seemed to be a golf ball sized of a swelling, light-toned bruising already tainting her skin in a yellowed purple. Curiously staring at her ankle, Winnie shook her head in that stubborn way of her's that always irritated the boys before beginning to try and walk it off. The boys always did it in soccer, it was a sure thing she could too. And after all, she's had her fair share of injuries playing school sports or being her tom-boy self.
Unfortunately, she was wrong. "So, slight problem," Winnie quickly admitted as her body began to descend into the sand. Landing in a sort of crossed legs sitting position that disturbed the sand in a flurry of grains, she looked back at Ren ruefully. And that was all she needed to begin the fit of her overcharged senses. Perhaps it was her inability to do anything, her injuries, or the fact that she finally got a good look at their environment, but the sure thing that racked Winnie was her laughter. It bubbled out of her in an outburst, shaking her chest and ribs quite a lot more than a normal laugh did. The girl was always laughing; it was practically her trademark. Those who knew her well would always just explain to others that it was just Winnie and a quirk she had. She giggled at jokes until tears slipped out, good or bad, cackled at things that weren't remotely funny or that even made sense to others. And similar to now, she also tended to crack up in times of jittery nerves or any other situations deemed inappropriate for laughing. Except the tears now pooling in the corners of her eyes were more from frustration than giddiness. If Ren were to comment on her crying, she'd deny it and blame the salt still stuck in her eyes.
In between her bouts of laughter, Winnie had managed to get out phrases of we are stranded on an island, with no way back home, we were in a plane crash and a I have no idea what to do? She clasped her mouth as if to conceal her giggling and to also hopefully tamp down her laughter. Nevertheless, Winnie was sure Ren could understand everything. She did this often and while others would take Winnie's laughter as baffling and strange, Mateo and Ren always understood that it was her way of dispelling a lot of her pent up nervous energy. Wait, Mateo.
Oh god, Mateo. And Roman.
"Oh my god," Winnie hysterically panted, her voice only a soft mumble that was now growing in volume, "Mateo. Mateo and Roman,"
Were they alive? It was just her and Ren. Please, please, please be alive. She was just talking to them on the plane, not remembering their conversations, but she still had the memory of their facial expressions committed. They were just all together. How could this have happened? Her eyes silently questioned Ren as if he knew anything, her face as if asking him have you seen them?
Ren didn’t like that Winnie was trying to walk, but it was useless trying to argue her into some sense. She was just as stubborn as him and dismissed his questioning as she stood on her feet. Or rather, one foot; her sharp breath hissed at the pain that seemed to ripple straight up her leg from her swollen ankle, and Ren was already steadying her with an arm around her waist. “That doesn’t look good-“ he eyed the discolored skin with a weak stomach, but Winnie was already slipping out of his grip to sit herself down in the dry warm sand. He dropped to his knees and crawled closer to her, ignoring the discomfort in his back and well, just about everywhere else. She was well awake now, but it would quickly become apparent that she wasn’t all there.
Her manic outburst made him squirm. At first, he thought she was starting to break out into sobs, but he quickly realized that what shook her shoulders was laughter. “Win-?” Lorenzo started uncertainly, placing a hesitant hand on her knee. Her cackling was unnerving considering the circumstances they were in, and he didn’t know how to react except for furrow his eyebrows and tighten his jaw disapprovingly. Just how hard had she bashed her skull? “Winnie,” he tried again, but she cut him off with a stream of incoherent hysterics. So she understood what was happening, then- she wasn’t as far gone as he had worried. “Hey, we’ll get through this,” he tried to be a voice of reason, but fuck, she was right. His agitated voice wasn’t fooling anyone, certainly not Winnie. Anxiety tightened his chest until he was short of breath, his fingers tapping anxiously on her knee while he tried to think his way out of this. Someone had to be coming soon- there was just no way.
He’d heard stories of random shipwreck survivors living off the land for years, but that couldn’t be them. It just couldn’t. He had Sofia and Harry to get back to, he got them souvenirs! Sofia, a little necklace and a few postcards for her “aesthetic” wall; Harry, a stuffed koala and a jersey from an Australian team. And oh God, it was somewhere under all that twisted charred metal!
Ren didn’t have time to come unhinged, Winnie was already doing a great job of that for the both of them. Running his hands through his hair as was his usual nervous tic, he was having a hard time feeling upset when Winnie mentioned Mateo and Roman’s names for the first time since the crash. In all honesty, he had been so caught up in finding Winnie and making sure she was okay to remember that they too had been on the plane with a few other team members. Some had opted to leave earlier that week, but they’d stayed behind to get a flight that wasn’t at the crack of dawn with two layovers. Figures.
“Y-yeah, Mateo, Roman, they’ve gotta be okay, too,” Ren reasoned aloud, even if all he wanted to do was roll over on the sand and scream, kick his feet and smash his fists. “Okay, okay, we’re going to find them Win,” he worked up the nerve to say these words as confidently as he could even if he almost didn’t want to. He would have rather lived with the blissful unawares that maybe they had died, rather than discover their bodies. Roman he may not have particularly cared for, but in the heat of the moment, he wouldn’t have wished this upon even that sick son of a bitch.
Getting to his feet, Ren stooped to scoop Winnie up off the sand with his back smarting at the weight. “Shit,” Ren exhaled through grit teeth, adjusting his grip around her wet clothes. “We’re going to find them,” he kept repeating. Had he had a moment to think, the sinister mind in him might have entertained how convenient it could have been if Mateo and Roman had vanished. Get the girl, and the team- but his frantic thoughts were too distracted by the sight of wreckage and the ungodly reek of jetful, burning plastics, and singed hair.
They stumbled along the remains, exchanging woeful looks with other survivors surveying the wreckage with them for anyone who might have been crushed under the rubble. “Teo? Roman!” Ren called hoarsely from time to time, almost willing himself not to find the two for the fear that he’d discover either one of them blue and cold to the touch. Or worse, in pieces, like an unfortunate woman’s son off to the left. “Come on,” Ren helped Winnie hurriedly past the wailing woman, heartbroken at the tragic loss of life. It was too difficult for him to comprehend how this could even happen, and to good, innocent people!
“Mateo! Where the fuck are you-!” Ren shouted after fifteen minutes, frustrated and close to tears as every search attempt came up futile. And then, he saw them; two figures scrambling over a flipped row of seats and part of the cargo hold. He thought he was delirious, but the two figures hobbled closer and he could distinctly make out the platinum blonde streaks in Roman’s hair and Mateo’s bright eyes. “Winnie, look-” he gasped, shaking her to get her attention.
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There was pain climbing up his leg with just as much speed as the blood trickling down it. It was difficult to keep his thoughts straight, to focus on everything that he was feeling, but also all the worries that overwhelmed him. It didn’t help that Roman was trying to pull some joke over him, convincing him for a split second that his leg was indeed unrecognizable or that he might have lost it completely. But, when the feeling had returned fully in leg - more so he felt extreme pain in his leg rather than what it was normally supposed to feel like - his anxious nerves calmed down just the slightest. This meant that at least it was there and his earlier concern of it not being there at all was invalid. Okay, okay. Everything was going to be fine. It was going to be fine.
Mateo’s anxiety was enough to hinder him completely. His fingers were digging in the sand as he tried to get himself into a standing position, but it was all the more difficult when he was feeling such intense pain in both his right leg and his left shoulder. He could withstand the pain of injuries he might get while playing soccer, sprains in his ankles, bruises up and down his calves and thighs as well as his chest. Concussions were a bitch, but he’d had fair share of them. But, this? - this was different. The piece of metal that pressed into his thigh only made more blood pool out, so he tried to hold the wound with his own fingers, applying pressure when he’d finally managed to stand up on both feet. It was difficult and Mateo huffed to himself, but he’d been able to do that and that was something to be proud of given his haggard situation.
Winnie. She remained the only person on his mind as he stared at his terrible surroundings. There was fire and smoke and crying and within it all, Winnie could be anywhere. The panic quickly streamed in, making his heart constrict with fear and anxiety. He couldn’t lose her - no, he couldn’t lose Winnie. She had to be here somewhere. Maybe, further down the beach! Yes, she was just somewhere down the beach because they tide had carried her further down. With confidence in this, Mateo stumbled forward, awkwardly holding onto his bleeding leg. The sand kicked up with his feet as he squinted at the water and the beach. They really fucking crash landed on an island - this was all just some fucked up dream, but Mateo had to admit that it felt too real. This was all actually happening.
“I need to find Win,” he breathed roughly, coughing and attempting to wipe sand from his face and out of his mouth. He didn’t expect that Roman would come with him, but when he looked over his shoulder, the blonde was trailing after him, both of their feet making hasty prints in the sand. He didn’t know how long they were moving, but they definitely weren’t anywhere near the area where they’d washed onto the shore. The prospect of finding Winnie and Ren, but not finding them alive and just their distorted, mangled bodies was terrifying - he’d already come across a few during their search. At one point, he saw a young girl floating face down on the shore and in that split second, the fear that sprang through him that it was Winnie might have been the most terrifying feeling in his entire life. It hadn’t been her, but it had been someone else’s daughter, sister, friend, girlfriend.
Mateo wanted to vomit, bend over on his knees and empty his stomach. He was feeling so sick and scared, finding no evidence of his girlfriend or best friend among any of these bodies or survivors. Where the fuck were they? However, by some miracle, he heard shouting further down on the beach. It was distinctly his name - he knew it was his name. And it was his best friend’s voice - “Ren? Ren! Ren!” he started shouting his name, tears blurring his vision so suddenly as he saw another figure further away, but someone was in his arms rather than walking beside him. “Win?” he gasped shortly, his voice getting stuck in his throat as the sight before him got clearer and clearer. Ren was carrying Winnie now, her small, frail body hanging in his arms so limp and delicate.
"Win!"" he cried, hobbling over sand and debris and water all acting as an obstacle to his path. He didn't care about the pain in the moment, forgetting the blood that dripped from his hand and down his leg with every movement that he made. All he knew was that he needed to get to Winnie, to see if she was okay, to hold her in his arms and never let her go. Everyone else became a blur as he finally closed the distance, Roman still behind him. "Win - Win -" he breathed, drawing close to the pair and seeing that her eyes were in deed open and she was hurt - but she was alive. Tears of relief flooded his cheeks as he took her from Ren's arms, wrapping his arms around her holding her close. His face pressed into her familiar hair and neck, breathing in the faint scent of her perfume along with smoke and salty water. "You're alive - you're alive -" he exhaled, wet face pressing against her wet hair.
His eyes caught Ren's over her shoulder and there was a strange expression on his face that Mateo didn't understand, but he didn't pay attention to it. Instead, he mouthed quietly, "Thank you," as he squeezed Winnie in his arms, not intending to let her go quite yet.
Ren was trying to calm her down, but for once in all their years of knowing each other, it wasn’t working. In fact it almost made her want to burst out in tears even more because sweet, good-natured Ren was the one trying to be positive in this entirely impossible situation. There was no way off of this island besides plane or helicopter. But what reason would an aircraft of sorts come this way? They were such small beings they could never catch the attention of large tied objects such as a fricken plane. She felt horribly that she was dragging Ren through her line of hysterics, no doubt adding to his heightened senses of similar fear. The only thing that seemed to anchor her overwhelmed perceptions of their circumstances was Ren sitting behind her with his neck leaning on her shoulder, and the rhythmic tapping of his sturdy hands on her knee. At least that was something she was used to, steering her away from the insanity of this newness that threatened her. Even if the rhythm was one of apprehension. Leaning back into his sturdily built chest and sighing to quiet the sob climbing up her throat, Winnie closed her eyes to shut out the image of the island. She just needed a moment to not stare at the harrowing sight of their wreck or their inevitable invitation to either starving or dehydrating to death on this island. She could almost picture their withering bodies, fierce craving evident in their bones and shrinking muscles never quenched.
But she couldn’t waste her time feeling sorry. It wasn’t going to get anything done, and not to mention Mateo and Roman were still missing. God, her Mateo. They were just joking on the plane about their ideas for a personal vacation now that their season of soccer was coming to an end for the year. Mateo and suggested a random location with a ridiculous sounding name, and the way he executed it had sent Ren and Winnie uncontrollably giggling. They were disturbing the entire plane, but all that mattered in that moment was them three. She had kissed Mateo on the cheek, always so happy that he had made her laugh, and he had taken his hand to pull her even further into him. His thumb was lightly tugging her chin closer, and his enviously long lashes were tickling her cheeks. Mateo had also made a show of whacking his arm rest out of the way to allow Winnie to cuddle up against him, her head rested on her shoulder and his fingers swirling arbitrary patterns on her leg.
And now Mateo was potentially dead. Because that’s what happens in plane crashes. People die. People were currently dying. On the beach, in the water. Everywhere. She was staring at a body that lay limp in front of her, limbs oddly bent and blood staining the sand around them, grain by grain. It could’ve been Mateo. It could have been Ren or her.
Twisting around, Winnie seized Ren and shakily whispered, “I’m so glad you’re okay Ren. I’m so, so happy you’re still with me” before he gathered her in his arms up, up, up in the air. His promises, empty or not, somehow still put Winnie at a ease, but not at an entire ease.
And then she was getting shaken by Ren, a sudden jerk shuddering Winnie’s body. But the voices she was hearing, it wasn’t just one person. It was two? Whirling her head back up, she caught sight of a hobbling and bloody Mateo. The infamous disorder of umber curled hair, and his endearingly captivating eyes. They were looking straight at Winnie. He was alive. Alive! Her voice was stolen from her, even when her mouth opened to call for him. Air and tears were the only thing exchanged out of her. If Winnie didn’t entirely break down yet, her composure now was thrown. Wild weeping shot out of her throat, the sudden friction like claws from inside of her. Lunging forward, not caring if she landed on her ankle, Winnie hurled herself at Mateo. She couldn’t say anything but Mateo’s name over and over into his neck, astonishment splashing her words. He was here with her. They hadn’t left each other behind. Her arms were flung around Mateo’s neck, a tight hold still being pulled together in a compression of skin and muscle. Her blood was smearing Mateo’s skin and her ankle was screaming against the sudden bearing of her weight, but Winnie could only focus on Mateo enveloping his solid arms around her. She felt so safe, perhaps there was still hope.
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They stumbled back a step, Mateo losing his balance slightly from Winnie throwing herself at him. But, he didn't care. He was holding onto her tightly, burying his face in her air and just memorizing this feeling of her body pressed against his own, the prickling sensation that drew across of skin whenever she'd touch him, the warmth that spread through his chest whenever she smiled at him. She was full on crying, tears flooding her pale cheeks and making her beautiful eyes wet and upset. He hated to see her so worried, but he understood exactly why - Mateo felt the exact same way. The two of them were always in sync, had been in sync since the beginning back when they met each other so earlier on in high school. They were aware of each other's feelings and nerves and anxiety and most of all - they understood each other's fears.
Winnie knew that Mateo's biggest fear was losing her.
He didn't want to let go of her. His hands were splayed flat against either side of her body, wrapping her into a full hug and pressing her close. Both of their clothes were wet, but drying rapidly due to the heat of the sun on the beach. But, he imagined that she was going to get cold and ill if they didn't sit down and get into a different change of clothes. The sickening thought of looking through thrown bags of luggage that had fallen onto the beach around them that didn't belong to them made Mateo's heart constrict, but it was for the better good. Who knows if everyone survived and they were the lucky ones that should make good use out of the things that were here - they were the ones that were left behind and had to survive being wrecked on an island in the middle of nowhere.
But, that was an issue for another time. Right now, all Mateo wanted to do was feel Winnie's fingers on his cheek, her cheek pressed against his own, her head resting on his chest, just feeling her presence everywhere alongside his own. The thought of losing her had driven him wild for the time that he had been searching the beach for her. It might have only been twenty or so minutes, but that had been the longest stretch of time he'd ever felt.
Mateo sniffled into her neck, pressing a warm kiss against the side of her face, and then another one. "I love you so much, Winnie. I love you, I love you," he kept murmuring by her ear, the tears that dripped from his eyes unable to be kept at bay. He knew what he had done was wrong and the guilt that stemmed through his now was impossible to face. So, he pushed it down, pretended that it didn't exist, and that nothing ever happened that could spoil this beautiful relationship. He held onto Winnie, promising his love to her because she was the only one that he had ever loved and she was the only one that he would ever love - she was simply the one for him. And nothing in the entire world could change that.
His hand rose to her cheek, tucking the wet, salty strands of hair behind her ear as he finally addressed their situation. Mateo was more alert and aware now, "Are you hurt? Where are you hurt?" He pulled away slightly to inspect her fully and he immediately noticed that the main source of her discomfort seemed to be derived from the swollen ankle. "Oh, shit..." he murmured as he looked at her ankle before he looked back at her face and noticed the red that had smeared on her cheek due to his bloody hand.
Her body was constantly peaking then deflating from the energy, everything seemingly fried beyond proper functioning. Winnie was an unpredictable disarray of movement then like a void, like she wasn’t there at all. She had been shaking the entire time since waking up on the floating chair, only momentarily stopping when Ren and then Mateo had found her. However all of the tension that had kept her awake and moving was now leaking out of her body at a gradual pace, leaving her like a sagging bundle held together by Mateo and his very alive, and very real words. Sweet words that warmed her despite the chilly winds that flapped at her wet clothes and hair. Her two best friends in the world was still with her despite the crash, and if that wasn't the best luck she's ever received in life, then she didn't know what was. It was a miracle that they had all survived. Winnie couldn't even imagine life without these two knuckleheads, the mere thought of it stuffed a bubbled gulp in her lungs. Somehow Mateo had still retained his usual cologne smell despite the saltwater and dustiness of the sand that clung to him, reminding her again of just where they were.
Gravity was forcing Winnie to loosen her hold on Mateo. Her hands slipped to rest in a detached lacing of her fingers, now tangled in Mateo’s knotted hair. As her body descended from her initial jump, Winnie began to unhook her chin from his shoulder to take a better look at Mateo. Her face no longer held the understated indications of crying, but was now broadcasting it. Redness was blotting around her eyes and nose, pulling forward the flecks of greens and golds in her irises and weighing down her lashes. Her lips were wobbling despite her gritted jaw, clueing in that her cries might grow stronger. She was a havoc of the giggly and fun-loving girl she normally was. But at least there was a trace of a smile fighting its way through her frightened state of emotions.
Mateo was here. He was tangible. Her young and sweetheart of a love. She already had every facial feature committed to memory from the first time they had met at his soccer match. Since their freshman year, Winnie had always known that Mateo was going to be a huge part of her life; it was the matching of their energies that always seemed to make sense. If she smiled then he would. So much so they didn't have to look at each other to sense their moods— they were just so very aware of it.
However when Winnie went to peer up at Mateo's face, a muscle memory that guided her head just like so many times before, what she saw sent a fervid pang of distress through her. He was so worn down. By the way his eye creases were swollen and the minor cuts that littered his tan skin, there were too many different things about her boy. Of course she had seen Mateo cry before, but this was much more intense. Similarly, Ren had astonished her with his own crying. Both boys were changing her affinity with how their emotions worked. It was like she was seeing entirely new sides to them, which of course made sense. Never before were they put in a disaster such as this.
She wanted to erase everything that had harmed her family of Mateo and Ren. She wanted to wash away the blood, scrape away the sand and salt, and heal their deeper wounds. She needed to know that she could support them like she’s always had. Winnie desperately wanted to go back to one of their apartments and hurl herself into a mess of pillows and blankets, and massage one’s head while balancing an ice pack on the other’s ankle. Her ankle.
“I’m fine, seriously,” She briskly explained, lightly flicking her hands at both Mateo and Ren to convince them that she was really okay though soon Mateo’s blood caught her attention, “Jesus Christ Mateo your leg. Why aren’t you doing anything to stop the bleeding? Let go of me I’m helping you,”
And true to her words, she slipped off the remaining parts of her sweater to gently but swiftly tie around Mateo’s leg. She was throwing herself in work mode, furiously controlling herself to make herself useful. Thankfully Winnie loved her thriller movies that skimmed over the basic lessons of survival. What she sort of knew was that you needed to stop the bleeding, and both compress and tie the area together to keep the skin somewhat tight so that it could be prepped for stitching. Ren seemed to be in better states than both of them, and it was the remaining piece of support that kept Winnie relatively sensible.
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Winnie always had the tendency to take care of others before she took care of herself and he'd seen that on multiple occasions throughout their relationship and even before when they were just friends. She'd suck up everything that she was feeling and make it second priority to deal with everyone else's problems. Sure, she liked to fix problems for other people, try to make them feel better, but what he'd noticed that she gave very little of the same attention to herself. Mateo had tried to talk to her about it a few times, but he'd discovered just how quickly she'd avoid expressing that kind of attention. But, even if she didn't want to give herself the proper attention and time to worry about different problems and feelings of her own, Mateo always made the effort to try and be the one that put her problems and feelings above his own. If she wouldn't do it for herself, he'd do it for her.
She was doing it now, briskly brushing off her own injury - it was apparent that Winnie wasn't even able to walk properly on her swollen ankle but she was ignoring it to try and see what was wrong with him - and getting down to business. Mateo wanted to object, to draw away and force her to sit down so that they could see the damage done to both of them. But, she was already at it and he knew she'd only get upset if he tried to stop her in the middle. Mateo tried to stay standing at the appropriate angle as she wrapped her sweater around his leg tightly, but the pressure at all made him hiss out loud in pain. He really wasn't used to this kind of pain.
"Think I'll survive?" he asked her in a joking tone, but it was only after he said it that Mateo reevaluated what he'd just said. Would he survive? Would any of them?
There were significantly worse injuries on many of the other survivors of the plane crash, not to mention all of the actual dead bodies that littered the island. They were all lucky to have survived the crash at all, but would they survive the night? Right now, they were stranded on an unknown island with barely anything to survive off - they'd have to go look through the debris and see if there was anything that had lasted the impact of the plane on the beach - and very little idea if anyone would come to find and rescue them. Did anyone even know that they'd crashed? Surely the mission control would know if one of their planes were no longer in contact with them. And maybe if the radios were working someone had already tried to contact anyone to come rescue them. There was hope - maybe...
Mateo tried to hold in the sound of pain that demanded to leave his lips when she'd touched the wound again. The piece of metal that was stuck in his leg had made the skin around it extremely swollen and hot. Blood continued to steadily spill down his leg and right now, his Adidas joggers were caked with blood and sand down to his ankles. For a moment, he felt a tinge of disappointment for the state of his joggers, but then he remembered how much of a worse state that he could have been in right now.
He tried to talk to Winnie now instead of making her more nervous as her fingers neared the metal in his leg, taking her mind off of their impending doom instead by talking about comforting topics, "Hey, look - we didn't get enough time on the beach in Sydney so we can take a mini vacation here before having to go back to class. I guess I really don't have to take that O-Chem test anymore." But, then again, maybe that would make her more upset by implying that they might be spending more time here on this island than they initially believed. Well, he hoped for all of their sakes that they'd be getting rescued very soon.
mateo being glad that he doesn't have an exam because of a plane crash is a schmood
can a character pls have an outburst, like a are you serious mateo kinda thing
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Thinking maybe ren could be nice to Roman for a minute but then Roman says something asshole-y and Ren decides he wishes Roman had disappeared but idk thoughts? For side plot
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Once Winnie spotted Mateo, it was game over. She’d never jumped into Mateo’s arms faster, the sheer momentum of her weight causing the two to stumble haphazardly backwards. He was initially relieved to see his best friend and nemesis scramble over the ridge and come tumbling down to them, but he couldn’t help but feel crestfallen when Winnie was absorbed into Mateo’s chest in a loud bout of overflowing tears and kisses. Mateo had been his friend for longer and though he understood that Winnie was the guy’s girlfriend, something inside him ached. They had each other, and what did Ren have? Roman? If it had been him that had died in the crash, Winnie and Mateo would have been okay so long as they had each other. Apart from them, his mom, and his siblings, he wasn’t sure who would mourn him, and that was terrifying.
He tried not to think too hard about comparing the way he’d been greeted by his best friends as opposed to the way they were all over each other now, instead nodding weakly at Mateo’s mouthed words over Win’s shoulder.
Thank you.
He hadn’t done it for him. Winnie meant more to Ren than she did to Mateo, of that he was certain. Since the first semester they’d become friends, he’d tried to ignore the massive crush he’d developed for the sake of their friendship. For over six years. The last thing he had wanted to do was make anything awkward; it would just be unfortunate when the summer before their freshman year at college, Mateo and Win would become much more than friends. Some days he liked to beat himself up and think of all the reasons why Winnie had picked Mateo over him, and he usually settled on the conclusions that Mateo was hotter than him and had a personality. He made himself too busy between picking up extra shifts and practice that summer as well, so that had to be on him.
Ren had mostly come to terms with being a constant third wheel ignoring those high school feelings, and most times Mateo and Winnie were pretty good about keeping PDA minimal when he was around, but now wasn’t the case. With everything else going on, you know, being crashed onto an island in the middle of nowhere, it was a lot for Ren to watch, so he averted his gaze and pocketed his hands instead while he waited in vain for Teo to swoop him up in a hug that was just as enthusiastic. They fussed over each other, howled their I love you’s, poked and prodded at each other’s injuries while Ren used the toe of his sneaker to pick at a pile of burnt belongings.
He was too apprehensive to break what the two of them had by barging in to hug Mateo and obsess over the alarmingly large injury his best friend had sustained. And so, he remained silent in the background, pretending to be interested in a collection of neckties that had seemingly fallen out of a business man’s sand-filled briefcase a few feet away. Apparently, Mateo had a large metal shard in his leg, but apparently, Winnie could handle playing nurse to her boyfriend herself. Ren was shocked at the bitter angry thoughts that started to swirled darkly in his head, no doubt the victim of frustration, jealousy, and irritability from today’s turn events as well as this past week’s lousy incidents. He just wanted to go home, take a nap in his own bed and have dinner with his own siblings under his own roof.
Roman lingered nearby, and so Ren limped slowly at last towards him swallowing any last shred of pride he had left to talk to the bastard. “Hey, did you make it out okay?” Ren forced himself to say as sincerely as he could. "I guess this is what we get for playing New Zealand dirty?" A forced go at a joke, but a joke nonetheless. Maybe they’d never be friends, but at least they could get along now until they were rescued, right? Roman may have been the biggest pain in the ass since he started on this team, but nothing would be the same without Roman’s leering jokes or restless douchery around Winnie. Lorenzo would have never wished the fate of this island on anybody- not even on Roman.
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hsuhhhhhh di their romance needs to e n d
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oooooh maybe mateo defends roman?? like it's not bc he likes him or anything but just like a "ren shut up like this is not the time for this stupid behavior"
*queue Ren stomping off to pout*
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The pain that was shooting up his leg had dulled some once Winnie had wrapped her sweater around his leg. There was still a pulsing sensation that would shock his muscles every other second, but after experiencing it for several minutes, Mateo learned to live with it. He wouldn't feel it so much when he kept still, but every time that he attempted to shift even the slightest, the pain returned, rocketing up his leg and creating a tense ache in his lower back. So, he tried to be careful, not to move too much out of fear of upsetting the injury that was being only applied pressure to. They really didn't know if there was any way of sowing up his leg wound - hadn't even taken the piece of metal out of his leg yet. Mateo himself had suggested not doing it out of fear that it would only make the wound bleed more and then he might pass out from losing too much blood. He certainly was already feeling dizzy and light headed.
Winnie kept herself tucked close to him and he certainly didn't object. He didn't want to part with her, keeping her small body pressed close to him even though both of them were struggling to walk at all - so, they'd help each other walk. Her ankle was seriously swelling up and they had no way of making the swelling go down because it wasn't like they had any makeshift ice packs that they could just press on it. So, instead, he suggested to her to simply not walk on it for a bit and see if the swelling would start going down until they could figure out some real solution to the problem.
They were pressed close to each other now, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as the two of them sat down on the sand, their wet clothes caked in white, but neither of them caring much. "We should probably change..." he murmured, resting his cheek atop her wet head as his hand rubbed small, arbitrary shapes and patterns against her hip. "It's pretty - if you can ignore all the smoke in the air and smell of burned metal," Mateo suggested, squinting at the scene before them. They'd been looking out on the beach, watching the sun in the sky as it was setting - it might have been beautiful if they were voluntary sat here without injuries and a sure way of getting home. But, they were injured, lost, wet, hungry, and had no idea of how they were ever going to get off this island. So, while the sunset was certainly beautiful, Mateo just couldn't appreciate it.
Dark eyes turned towards his right where he'd seen Ren and Roman talking which had been the strangest sight. But, he hadn't paid much attention to it earlier because this was a crisis and even enemies like Ren and Roman surely could get along for a few moments when they were all in such dire circumstances. Well, it had seemed to be going good, but Mateo recognized that look on Ren's face anywhere - he was steaming. "Ren -" he called out, eyes worried at the fight that was surely happening or about to happen between the two boys. It was his hope that maybe he could keep it from ever happening - none of them wanted nor did they care to see the two boys fight over their petty rivalry especially when they were looking at some pretty severe problems right now.
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