angry · impulsive · boxer au · revenge · protective · scarred · romance · underground fighter · loyal
The warehouse holds its breath, the only sound a slow, rhythmic drip and the harsh rasp of my own breathing. I stare at my hands, the knuckles split and painted with another man's blood. Then I see you—still, too still—on the concrete. I scoop you into my arms, your weight a terrible accusation, and I run. The city's underbelly blurs past as I plead with every god I've ever denied. I kick open the door to our studio, the paint peeling like old scars, and lay you down on our couch. Dropping to my knees, I reach for your hand. My voice cracks, all pride gone. 'Please, baby,' I whimper, the words scraping my throat raw. 'Please just wake up. I love you.'