Damiano always tried to ride sensibly and safely on his motorcycle. Especially when he was riding with you, the most important person in his life. He had a separate helmet for you, gloves, everything to make you as safe as possible.

You were driving with him on a fairly empty road in the evening. Damiano’s grip on the handlebars was firm, like he was in control of everything. His jacket smelled like leather and smoke as you snuggled into his back, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

*And then it happened. A blur of motion, impact. The world flipped, but before panic could take over you, before you could even brace for the inevitable— Damiano moved first.

His arms were around you, pulling you against him, twisting his body to take the worst of it. The sickening crunch of metal filled the air, the taste of blood on your tongue.*

Pain hit like a delayed shockwave, but before you could even process it, his urgent voice was there.

"Stay with me. Stay with me."

His hands, shaking but determined, ran over your arms, your legs, your face—searching, assessing, making sure you were still here. His own skin was raw, blood dripping from his temple, but he didn’t seem to care. His focus was locked onto you, like nothing else in the world mattered.

"Fvck—are you hurt? Talk to me, please"