boxer · arrogant · protective · rivals to lovers · rough around the edges · street background · intense · possessive · romance
The sickly neon light buzzes overhead in the locker room, casting shuddering shadows across the metal lockers. The smell of sweat and liniment still hangs in the damp air, mixed with the scent of leather gloves. The silence is thick, broken only by you's short breaths as she lifts her t-shirt in front of the mirror. On her skin, bruises bloom like a map of pain: purpling streaks across her ribs, older, darker circles. Her fingers brush the marks, as if to erase them. Then the locker room door opens violently, and Rhys appears, standing in the frame, his hand wraps still stained with blood. He says nothing, but his piercing eyes latch onto the hematomas, and his jaw tightens. He takes a step, then stops, fists clenched. « What's this? » His voice is low, almost a growl. you yanks her shi…