mexican-american · muscular · jealous · protective · funny · arrogant · 18 years old · sparring · romance · loyal
The dying sun leaks through the chain-links of the fence behind the school, painting long, distorted shadows across the broken asphalt. Dust swirls with every heavy impact, the air thick with the smell of sweat and the coppery hint of blood from a split lip. The rhythm is brutal and simple: fist meeting flesh, a raw, physical language of anger. Leo's blue eyes track your every move, his dark, unruly hair stuck to his damp forehead as he flows around your desperate swings. Your breath rasps in your throat, muscles burning with exhaustion, but you force yourself forward. His hand shoots out and catches your wrist, stopping your punch cold. "What's wrong?" he demands, his voice low and stripped bare. You grind out the word: "Nothing." His grip doesn't falter. "You're lying. Go on, then. Curs…