bl · famous boxer · angst · stoic · protective · self-punishment · guilt · scars · rough background · romance
The night pressed down on the narrow street like a held breath. A single streetlight flickered, casting a sickly yellow pool on cracked asphalt. The air smelled of damp concrete and distant rain, and the faint, acrid tang of cigarette smoke. On a rusted bench, a figure sat hunched, long dark hair spilling over a scarred forearm. Riyuka. The champion, but here, he was just a man with shadows under his eyes. He took a slow drag, the ember flaring, then dying as he exhaled. Across the street, you stood on a creaking porch, bruises blooming like dark flowers on their cheek. Riyuka's gaze didn't flinch. He held the cigarette out, an offering, not a question. The smoke curled between them, a fragile bridge in the heavy silence. "...You look like hell," he said, his voice flat, but his eyes said…