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cr-owbar · 5 years ago

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GOD DAMMIT WHY AT THE END

You were startled out of your wits when the delinquent boxer fell through your window too early in the morning. The thump and groan resounding from your room alerted you someone was there. Upon entering, you noticed him: bloodied, scratched, and barely breathing.

You muttered a curse before doing your best to help the heavy boy onto your bed in a sitting up position.

“What the fresh hell,” you muttered, looking him up and down.

The cut on his brow leaked blood into his eye which was black. His jaw and lips were red and both had wounds. You could see blood from underneath his shirt, but had yet to identify them. His hands were still wrapped, but they were shaking.

“I-I thought I could do it,” He panted between breaths. “I did three fights tonight. The first one was easy, the second one a little harder, and by the third round of the last one I could barely stand,” he explained, a groan escaping as he let his head fall back.

“You’re an idiot,” you spat, standing to retrieve any kind of supplies you could from your bathroom.

“What?” He asked, clearly shocked by your reaction.

“Were you expecting sympathy? ‘Oh, poor baby tried to kill himself to get a little adrenaline rush because he doesn’t get it enough when he’s picking fights at school, boo hoo.’” The anger in your voice made his flare up as well.

“I don’t do this just for the fun of it and you know it. I have to do thi-“

“No, you have other options. There are other ways to make money; ones that don’t involve your potential death.” You made your way back to him, pulling a chair from your desk to sit in front of the injured boy.

There was silence after that except for you rustling for supplies and his still heavy breathing. You poured alcohol on a cotton ball and pressed it to each of the cuts, earning a hiss of pain every time you did.

“Take off your shirt,” you said, once you had finished placing some bandaids on his face.

He obliged and you physically winced at the bruises that littered his torso. There was a cut on the right side, just below his ribs that looked especially painful.

“I’m sorry for coming here,” He said quietly, once you had gotten to work. “I know you don’t want to see me ever again, but you were the only person I knew who to come to. The only person who’d understand.”

You placed a large bandage on the wound, refusing to respond. You grabbed his hands and began taking off the wrapping, trying to be gentle.

“I had to,” he muttered, his voice weary now.

You looked up and saw his eyes were half closed and breathing was slowing. The poor boy was about to fall asleep where he sat. You made quick work of unwrapping each hand and marveled in sadness at the bruises that littered his swollen knuckles.

“I’m going to go get some ice,” you muttered, but he grabbed your hand before you could leave.

“Please don’t leave me,” He said, his tired voice barely a whisper.

“It’s just downstairs, dude. I’ll be fast,” you replied, shaking your hand from your grip.

You came back up as fast as you could, ignoring the knowing stares of your older sister and taunts of your younger one. You locked the door behind you when you came back as to not be disturbed, and sat in the same spot as before. You were surprised he was even still sitting up, the way he looked so weak, like he could collapse at any minute.

“Here,” you said, and pushed the ice against a particularly large bruise on his torso. He winced again nodded gratefully.

“Lay down,” you said and he did so diligently, slowly leaning himself back into your pillows.

His breathing had slowed down drastically to the point it almost looked like he was dead. His eyes, however stayed trained on you.

You sat down in your chair again next to the bed and glared at him.

“I can’t believe you,” you muttered angrily and he gave a small smile.

“I know,” he replied.

Of all the things this boy had the audacity to do, he took up underground boxing and was pretty good, unfortunately. You hated it because you knew every time he stepped into the ring there was a chance he wouldn’t come back out the same, which technically rang true. He was no longer the funny, smiley kid you once knew, but now an intimidating, angry young man. Pent up anger from his childhood and at the world. He felt as if it had forsaken him, he felt as if everything had forsaken him but you. And you hated it.

He depended on you for stuff like this in the unlikeliest of times and every time he seemed worse than the time before. You were there every time he called because another girl or boy had broken his heart and he couldn’t take it. You had talked him off the ledge too many times to count and he wished he could make you happy because of it, but despite all his efforts, he only seemed to make you angry.

He raised his hand slowly, shakily and curled his fingers into your hair, remembering sweet times of playing with it when he was bored in class or talking to you. You watched him, his eyes sad, as he let his hand rest against your neck, his thumb rubbing against your throat.

“Baby...” he muttered, sending a shiver up your spine.

That nickname. That freaking nickname. So simple and so basic, yet so powerful. The one he had called you since he first confessed how much he liked you. The one he said more than your own name. The name whispered between gentle kisses and moaned between fervent ones. The one that he loved to call you the most.

You grabbed his hand and pulled it away from your face. “I’m not your ‘baby’ anymore.”

The words hit him like a brick in his stomach. He tried not to show it, but knew it was unlikely because that statement almost hurt more than the punches he received that night.

“I’ll go sleep on the couch,” you said, returning the chair back to its place at your desk.

“Please, don’t leave me,” He said, pitifully. “Please don’t leave me here alone.”

You hesitated, glancing from the door to him before deciding you could afford to waste a night with him, as you had done so many times before.

You turned on the fan and shut off the light, leaving on a lamp, and crawled into bed beside him, not ever saying a word.

“I know you don’t like me right now and probably won’t after this, but thank you. Not just for taking care of me, but for staying. After getting the lights punched out of me, things like this are what make me feel... better,” he said, cringing at how cheesy it sounded. But it was true.

The gentle moments you both shared between fights were what kept him going. The times he had pushed you against a wall in the locker room to kiss you as hard as he could, were the times that kept him going.

“I know. Which is why I don’t like it. It might give you the impression I’m okay with the fact you’re hurting yourself for the sake of money, but more than anything, I want you to be okay.” Your words had tapered to a whisper by the end.

The anger and worry in your eyes made his heart do small flips in his chest. You cared. You really cared.

The last fight he went to, he got a concussion and was in the hospital for too long and you were angry. You told him this would happen and every time he replied with the same snarky remark. ‘No way. I’m too good.’ Turns out, he wasn’t.

“I know, I got in over my head, but I’m okay now.” He slowly turned on his side to face you, grunting as he moved his arm from under him.

“And you’ll be back in the ring before you know it,” you said, with no emotion in your voice.

You stayed staring at the ceiling, unwilling to look at him.

“Can you please be angry tomorrow?” He whispered, his voice pleading. “I just want to be with you again tonight.” You suddenly wondered if he’d gotten this hurt on purpose, just to see you again.

You reluctantly turned to face him, your eyes landing on the injuries that littered his face and you sighed. His hand once again found its way into your hair, pulling gently on the strands. He traces down your arm to your waist where he presses his hand against your back and pulls you closer to him.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave you,” you whispered, you lips brushing against his. Chills rose alongs his arms and back.

“You don’t have to,” he whispered back.

“As long as you keep this up, I will,” you replied, closing your eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Not tonight. Please, not tonight,” he whispered, begging.

He finally pressed his lips against yours, once, twice, three times, before fully molding his lips against yours, unwilling to break away even for a breath.

When he finally did break away, he kept his forehead against yours, his breathing heavier and his eyes pressed closed.

He couldn’t live without you. He couldn’t make himself continue on with life without you. There was no living if there was no you. But there was no income if there was no boxing. No apartment, no car, no food. And the choice he made every time he walked back into the ring tore both of you to pieces.

You could feel your heart plummeting deeper for him, wanting him near you more and more, but you couldn’t allow it to happen. Not again.

“I don’t want you coming back here again unless you’re coming to tell me you’ve stopped.” His eyes snapped open at your words. “No more of this. Not after tonight,” you said, the firmness in your voice scaring him.

“At least I have tonight to think on it,” he whispered in reply. His hand snaked it’s way up your shirt, rubbing circles on your bare side with this thumb.

“I love you, though. No matter my decision, I love you,” his voice was no bigger than a whisper and it made your throat close up on you. He could barely make himself say it without shattering, so you knew he had made his decision, and it made your heart crack in two.

“I love you.” Your voice broke and you pressed a kissed to his lips to cover it up.

You whispered it over and over between kisses like a chant, to ingrain it into head, to make him realize how much you loved him. How much you wanted him with you forever. How much it hurt that you would have to cut him off again.

Tears leaked from both of your eyes once you stopped and he held you just a little closer. Just for tonight.

Little did either of you know, it would be your last night. Little did you know, those kisses were goodbye kisses, as he would walk into the ring and this time, he wouldn’t make it out...

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please remember you guys can still request anything you want and i will do my best to write it to exceed your expectations. thank you for waiting so long for my next post and hopefully i will do better to post more frequently. thank you

-kk

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