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Outside the car, through the smashed-in windows pressed to the ground, Ed can hear the squeal of tires and the rush of voices and, far away, the screams of sirens.
“Are you okay?” he asks Stede, trying to crane his neck enough to see where his seat belt buckle ended up, determined to release it and drop himself out of his upside-down seat. “Stede? You alright?”
Ed still doesn’t get an answer.
It only occurs to him now that Stede hasn’t said or done anything at all since Ed woke up, and he can’t see him at this angle thanks to the— fucking airbag in his face.
“Stede?” Ed asks again, and still receives nothing.
for ofmd whumptober, day twenty-two: glass shard, vehicular accident, "watch out!"
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