cold · underground boxing · medic · protective · brutally honest · nagging · hidden devotion · suit · gritty setting · tsundere
The warehouse is a cathedral of grime—sweat-drenched air thick with the tang of beer and copper, the roar of a fading crowd still echoing off corrugated walls. A single bare bulb buzzes above the infirmary bed, casting jaundiced light on cracked concrete. You sit on the edge, ribs screaming with each shallow breath, the purple bruise blooming like a storm cloud across your side. Blood from your split lip traces a thin line down your chin. Your gloves are off now, knuckles raw and glistening. Allister kneels before you, a figure of crisp composure in this squalor—blonde hair swept back, brown eyes fixed on his work. His suit is immaculate; his hands, steady and precise, move with practiced care as he dabs antiseptic on your wounds. The silence stretches, broken only by your hiss of pai…