Over the days of working, he was largely too tired to contribute much to the conversations with his friends, instead, he sat there and sipped his coffee, listening to them. Lost in his own thoughts. Events from the work-day clouded his thoughts. Some of the older construction workers felt they could order him around, even though they weren't the supervisor or anyone else important. They often called him things like, "fag", "pussy", or "dumbass". The last didn't bother him as much as the others, but even so, he got into a yelling match on more than one occasion. His tempter boiling.
He was still angry about it. Just sitting there, at Benny's, he longed to get up and punch something. Instead, he slouched in the booth, the upper half of his torso just barely being over the tabletop. Henrietta was trying not to laugh at his position, but he didn't mind that.

He was thinking about Michael. He had anger too. Together, they would work some of it out. Probably not in the best way, but it worked well. They sparred. In Michael's basement or out in Raven's backyard. There was just something satisfying about hearing the smack of flesh on flesh. Of feeling pain blossom in your cheek or abdomen.
He chuckled darkly, at which his friends looked over at him.

"Wanna share?" Firckle snickered.

"Just thinking about pain," he shrugged.

"Oh," Firckle blushed really bright, his eyes falling.

Seconds later, Raven's eyes widened once he realized what he said sounded like and how Firckle likely took it and probably the others too.
"Oh fuck, not like that kind. Just..., how good it feels to get hit."

Fuck, if that wasn't worse, he groaned, hanging his head.

"Wow Raven, I never knew you liked it like that," Henrietta grinned.

"Fuck, no, no, that is not at all!" he protested as Pete and Henrietta just kept snickering.

He sat up and slouched forward, head in his hands.
"You guys are fuckers," he muttered.

"But..., you're still here," Henrietta taunted.

"Ah fuck you."

"You know I don't roll that way. I'll watch, you fuck a guy though," she laughed.

"I'm not an exhibitionist," he sighed, Henrietta had been pushing to watch at him and Pete for ages.

"Ah, but I am a voyuer," she smiled.

He shook his head, his mood had elevated afterall. Though his anger was still there, perhaps he and Michael could spar tomorrow.
Raven dug in his pocket for his phone and shot Michael a text, before getting his notebook out of his bag.
The others chatted about things as they had before, Firckle finally no longer red in the face.

'I'm angry,
I always have been.
It's only gotten worse, the older I've gotten.
This anger,
Will never leave.
Everything fades,
Everyone leaves,
but I will always have my anger.
It keeps me warm at night.
Because when I had nothing and no one,
I always had my anger.'

He sighed after rereading it. It was incredibly blunt. Not at all like he usually wrote. He didn't even bother hiding that it was about himself. No real flowery language, just blunt, this is how it is.

He flipped to the next page and began again.

'I have a lot of anger.
It's not all directed at myself though.
A lot of it is,
But no, not all.
Some of it is for this corrupt and rotting Society.
Some of it is for what could have been,
What should have been.
Some of my anger...,
Is undeserved.
Some of it is misguided.
Just because I know that,
Doesn't mean I can change it.
It's still there.
I think it always will be.
It's a matter of control,
Not losing it.
Keeping oneself in perfect control,
A tight wire to be walked every day.'

"Well fuck," he muttered glaring at the paper.

"What's up?" Henrietta asked, turning her attention from Pete and Firckle to him.

Wordlessly, he flipped back a page and passed the notebook to her. She in turn, passed it to Firckle, who passed it to Pete, and lastly, to Michael.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Henrietta ventured, looking at him with obvious concern.

He sighed, taking his hat off and running his hands through his hair.
"Not..., not really," he admitted, "I'd rather just have it out with Michael and be done with it. Well, as done as one can be with it."

"Well let's go then," Henrietta declared.

Raven glanced at Michael who simply nodded, passing the notebook back to him.
He slid out of the booth as he put his notebook back into his bag. They left payment on the table and filed out.

Michael drove them back to his house, where they silently walked through the house and down to the basement. There was a cleared space, the basement was comprised of a few rooms. One, they set aside for their fighting.

They both shed their shoes, gloves, and Raven his hat.
Standing across from one another, they simply stared, waiting for one of them to make the first move.

They circled each other, this was a familiar dance. The question was, who would come away with victory this time?
Michael lunged first, Raven sidestepped and caught his forearm, gently tossing him to the side with a slight spin, using Michael's momentum against him. He skidded to a halt a few feet away as Raven then charged him, crouching and going for a feet sweep which Michael of course jumped over and had a kick aimed at Raven's face. He saw it seconds too late, though his foot only grazed him, Raven leaned away, grabbing Michael's leg in an attempt to trip him.

Skillfully, with his other foot, Michael kicked Raven in the chest, knocking him to the floor. Somehow, his head hadn't bounced off the concrete below, and he got up quickly, jumping back a few feet. They circled each other again.
The fight continued for a while, neither really gaining the upperhand for long. Eventually, both of them panting and sweating, Henrietta put a stop to it and made them go outside to cool off.

As they stood outside, Raven glanced over at Michael, "Thanks man."

"No problem," he smiled.

And with that, they stood in silence until they started shivering, fall was fast approaching. They returned inside and Raven grabbed his hat and gloves from downstairs. Michael then took them each home, dawn was beginning to break by the time they had all been dropped off.
As rarely happened any more, Raven fell almost right to sleep, and he slept hard.