#sinman

There had been a few occurances where his gaze lingered a little too long Sinan's recovering hands and maybe Sinan seemed less like a jerk who only opposed his ideas. He still talked back and called Osman's pragmatic plans out but his tone was gentler, maybe. Maybe Osman imagined a faint smile when he helped Sinan get up from the ground, holding on to his hands and feeling the scar tissue for a moment. It might all be in his head or it might mean nothing but the sense of belonging to somewhere kept increasing as the gang got closer and Osman paid no attention to him.He tried not to pay attention to him but his mind was spirilling, really.

More and more lately he had started to wake up earlier. He would peel some carrots, prepare some cucumbers with salt, dried fruits as snacks. Because he noticed everything, and he noticed the way Eda was not eating much, especially anything that was unhealthy. Well, besides alcohol of course. It was less complicated then Sinan because Eda only insisted on not eating a couple of times before caving and grabbing a few pieces of carrots.These kind of small things pushed Osman through. He loved being in control and he loved being able to make himself useful.Sinan on the other hand, was obsessed with not accepting any help from others. When Osman played the nurse and patched Kerem and Sinan up for the first time, it had taken the rest of the gang to beg him to let Osman do it. He had only caved after Osman had helped Kerem, maybe he had felt like it was normal for their group of friends.

Until the night where Sinan had called him and everything had went out of control, Osman was always tentative when it came helping Sinan. He made the spare sandwiches but never gave them directly to Sinan. Sometimes he had to put ingridients that he knew Sinan wouldn't like, just to give the impression that it was not meant for him.That night did change somethings after all. Osman got bold and made the sandwich just as the way Sinan liked it. Offered to take of his bandages the next day and cleaned them out gently.

He even went as far out to grab Sinan's bottle to take a swing while they were chatting after school. Sinan was not a person that would deny a request to share his drink but Osman hadn't asked, just taking the bottle and starting drinking in mid conversation. He held on to it for couple of minutes and when he gave it back, it was almost empty.Sinan glared at him and pulled the bottle back into his pocket. From the way he had tensed, Osman could guess his next move so he slided his hand over the bench and placed it on his knee, pushing down a little.

"Don't go," he said simply, his voice was overshawdowed by Işık'a and Kerem's heated voices.

Sinan was holding the edge of the bench, his fingers curling around the hard wood until his knuckles were white. For a moment, Osman waited for Sinan to get up and leave and tell him to fuck off, ran towards the nearest shop to refresh his bottle. Yet, Sinan stayed and Osman's hand lingered on his knee for a bit longer than intented. 

He was playing a dangerous game and but it was too much fun. For someone who was mixed with gambling and the joys of betting, he had never truly understood the appeal until now. He had no interest in thing that were uncertain, yet, he kind of saw the appeal of the danger, the nervousness that came with a good game.

.

After that it was small gestures.

Brushing Sinan’s hair back in the school garden or sitting a bit too close on the couch, helping each other to get up from the ground with a hand. Simple things that nobody would pay attention to but Osman did. First, because it was Osman and he noticed every little detail. Second, it was Sinan and every detail meant something when it came to him. Osman did not understand the nature of this game and he couldn’t estimate the outcome- it was very stressfull. However he was playing a little less attention to his businesses. He was feeling a little more motivated to go to school. He helped his parents with house work a little more often.It was because of the gang. And maybe, because of the game too.

.

Yet the game did not escalated for a while. That was until one day, he was chased by a group of highschoolers.

It was an ordinary friday where he skipped the 5th class that was before the lunch break because he simply hated chemistry and took a walk to the grocery store near by. Picking some fresh fruits according to everyone's favorites (Eda had called him a freak for remembering this small detail but she was smiling bright as she munched on her cherries the first time he had done it.)

He got a little from everything and ignored the shop keepers’ curious glance, smiling to himself as he moved on to green apples. He hated them, too sour for his taste, he had a sweet tooth but he grabbed a few for Sinan. How fitting, his favorite fruits were all the ones that made you grimace at the first bite but a lot of people couldn't stop eating.There was a faint smile on his lips and he was whistling a familiar melody as he was walking back to school with his hands full with bags. It was nearly the end of season for strawberries and it was a shame. Osman loved the summer and loved strawberries- they were Kerem’s favorite too.

The last days of tshirt wheatwer was kind to his skin and he was happy without a reason. Thus, he was careless and it was too late when he spotted them in the distance, recognizing them from right away though.

“We want our money back.” There were four of them and the tallest one of the group was speaking.

Osman stopped immidietly and placed a fake yet polite smile on his face. “As it was established, the game was not rigged. However, I do believe that we can come to-“

“Are we gonna let this one talk our ears off again?” One of them spat and he looked angry. Well, this was an unpleasant situation.

“We want our money back, now,” the first boy muttered with more confidence now.

Osman trusted his ability talk his way out of things but he was not too prideful to accept defeat and flee the scene. His pride came from the way he trusted the ability to act rationally and his instincts told him start running. It also told him to drop the bags as they were slowing him down but momentarily, he wanted to trust his luck, maybe he could get away with the fruits.

Osman had never been a lucky person though, that's why he was logical. He tripped and almost hit his head on the ground. The last minute he was able to protect his face with his hands and he quickly got up, fruits were scattered all around the street and he had smashed the cherries with his torso. He got up quickly and sprinted, thank God he had freakishly long legs and didn't spare a glance to the people that were chasing him.

He saw the school's entrance and almost smiled, he was so tired but with the last ounce of strenght in his muscles he held on to the bars, pulled himself up, prying that those idiots were not idiots enough to follow him into the school ground and he jumped.

His balance was off and he yelped in pain as he landed the ground with a thud and fell forward. It was almost the end of 5th period and he tried to pull himself together without a teacher catching him but as he got up, he grimicad with the sharp pain coming from his left anckle and he grimiced as he pushed himself forward.He almost hopped, rather slowly towards their usual hide out at the backyard away from prying eyes but students were starting to come out the second the bell had rang. He bit his lip and ignored curious glances, it was until he heard his name being called.

"Osman, oh my God! What happened?" Işık was running towards him with full force with wide eyes, always so dramatic.

Osman understood the severity of the situation when even Kerem almost sprinted towards him with worry on his face. He glanced down and saw the red stain on his usually perfectly white shirt and sighed. Before he could clearify, the whole gang was by his side, Sinan was the last on to arrive but he was the first one to push them aside and hold on to him by the arms.

 "Where is the wound? Can you walk? Do you-"

"Hey, hey! Slow down. I'm okay, its just a stain from the cheeries," he shrugged off.

Eda inhaled sharply. "Goddammit, he is delusional."

Osman let out a chuckle and tried to reassure them standing tall, putting his weight on his right and showed his torso by untucking his partly messed up shirt. "See? I'm fine. I just ran for five minutes straight let me sit down first to tell the story before any teachers come around and asks questions."

Everyone seemed relieved after that but Işık was still eying him suspiciously. He took a step forward with confidence but his limping was clear as the day even if the way his face twisted was not.Sinan was by his side in no time, wrapping an arm around his waist and encouraging him to loop an arm around his shoulder to help him up. Osman tilted his head to catch his eye but Sinan was not looking at him, he was able to smell the booze coming out of him though.

They started to walk away and people stopped giving them stares since Kerem was there to stare right back at them. Osman gasped with pain several times and everytime he did, Sinan's fingers dug into his skin as if he wanted to hold him tighter. "Aren't you going to carry me? Bridal style? I deserve a piggy back ride at least," he muttered once the others decided get food, water and some medical supplies to patch him up.They were almost there and Sinan huffed, tilting his head to spare a glance. 

"You are bit too heavy for that, princess."Osman chuckled, he was a bit too tired for banter and he couldn't help but hiss as he sat down, leaning back against the cold concreate. His mind was racing with several different thoughts all at once, chasing each other and tangling into a bigger mess than his life was with questions to be answered and plans to be made.

He came to his senses when Sinan brushed the back of his hand against his. He turned his head towards him and almost liked the worry in his stare. He always liked when Sinan's face held some type of emotion other than disinterest. He looked calmer now though, his hair was a bit messier than usual perhaps.Sinan grabbed his hands and rotated it to examine, turned his palm upwards at the end and stared at the cuts. Osman hadn't even realized them, he must've had them when he fell down.

"You're not gonna play the nurse, are you? Because I don't want to burst your buble but I kind of do not trust you to attend to my wounds."

"Shut up," was the only response he got.He didn't say anything while Sinan poured a bottle of water on his hands to clean them, the cuts were not deep anyway. "I can pour some alcohol on them. They could get infected."

Osman didn't say anything, while Sinan opened the bottle and poured a little, pain jolted in his body and he gasped. Sinan held on to his hand and didn't yield even though Osman had yanked them back instinctively. "Its okay, its over now," he said softly and did the other hand.

The pain went as fast as it came, it stunk a little but he felt fresher. His hand throbbed with the aftermath and his ankle ached a bit but he was okay. His shoulders relaxed and he slid a bit down on the bench, closing his eyes as he rested. "I could get used to not being the nurse for once."

"Well, I liked the previous arrangement better," Sinan stated and Osman opened his eyes. Before he could remark Sinan was continiuning to speak. "A lot of people become doctors because they have a God complex. They want to be the saviour, to have that kind of power. But seeing people in pain even when you're helping is agonizing."

Osman was waiting for a punchline, for Sinan'a little pep talks to circle back to something cynical. It didn't and Sinan avoided his gaze.

"I'm sorry," Sinan said. Osman was too confused to react, he almost shivered when Sinan touched his hand, turning it upwards to take a closer look. "Maybe I should use your methodology and-"

"What are you sorry-"

They both had to stop talking as the others came back. The warmth he was feeling on his left side was gone and that's when he realized they were sitting close in the first place. The warmth in his face remained.

"Here, my spare shirt," Kerem pushed a wrinkled shirt into his hands.

"Why do you have a spare shirt? I thought only goody goods had spare uniforms in their lockers."

"Hey, there is nothing wrong being prepared," Işık stated and Eda rolled her eyes.

“My case stands.”

"I mess a shirt up every week or so," Kerem clerified.

Osman had always been the caregiver. He was the one that remembered little details and paied attention and took care of others. Yet, he did like the recieving end of stuff as he ate the sandwich that Eda had brought. Işık had bandaged his ankle and he was laughing as he wore Kerem's shirt, complaining about the wrinkles as he straightened his tie back.

"Remember that bet I had a week ago and the guys were insistent that the game was rigged-"He told the story and he felt okay, he couldn't help but feel a little warmer everytime Sinan touched him casually though, stroking his knee, touching his arm, brushing past his hand... Two could play this game.

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