We held hands as we walked to work. Usually we took our time, not wanting to part, but today our pace was brisk and the wind was cold in my damp hair. A block from the gym, Ryou let go of my hand and I sighed.
"I miss you already," I murmured. I sounded weak and lame and I hated myself for saying it.
"I'll see you after work." He touched my arm before running away.
His touch felt like a goodbye kiss, sweet but too brief. I went into the gym, cursing assholes that didn't re-rack their weights. After cleaning, I took a break, drank a protein shake, and started my own routine. Kyubi was in the ring with a new client. We exchanged a few sarcastic remarks, but otherwise ignored each other. I knew what to do without him now. My day was structured, same protein drinks and same clients, the only thing that varied was the workouts. It was therapeutic- the routine, and the exertion. It was hard to want to go on a bloody rampage after 50 minutes of agility based interval training – I was just too tired to bother with anger.
And I don't get pissed when I hold the mitts anymore. I don't think I'll ever like it, but if nothing else, training taught me to get out of my comfort zone and push through my problems. We've been training another fighter, Gakuya, his bout was the month after mine. He was older than me, 23, but we got along well. Maybe that was because he also stabbed his father, step father, actually. His step would come home drunk and beat his mother and him and one day, when he was 14, Gakuya stabbed his old man in the arm to stop him.
The mother blamed him, kicked him out of the house and he ran with a street gang to survive until Kyubi gave him a way out – fighting. I understood better now, why Kyubi wasn't afraid of me that first day. Everyone at this gym really was a fucking social service case. Kyubi's old man abandoned him, leaving him with a bipolar, alcoholic mother. He raised her more than she ever raised him.
You'd never guess by talking to them. You only heard these stories in snatches, because after you've spared, and worked the bags, and then tried to get some strength training in before you collapse, you sometimes found yourself talking about the damnedest things. You'd talk and everyone else would give an empathetic nod and make a joke of it, and somehow when it's over your brain deals with it a little better than before.
Oh goddammit! I went into second person again – It was a bad habit of Marik's that I couldn't seem to quit. Dissociation is a bitch.
I was relieved when we finished training Gakuya. I sat on the bench and sipped water. Kyubi sat across from me.
"You good?"
"Yeah."
"You don't give a fuck about the mitts anymore, do you?"
"Nope." I was full of shit. I'd never enjoy the mitts, but I'd never throw them at someone again either, and that was enough for me.
"Excited about the match? It's not too much longer."
I shook my head no. "I'll win, but I really just want it over with."
"Nervous?"
I looked up at Kyubi. "Can I still work here after the fight?"
"I'm never letting you leave. You think I'd go back to teaching all those little brats? No thanks."
"I'll deal with the kids before the mitts any day." I grinned.
"So what does your boyfriend think about the fight?" He still reminded me of a fox when he grinned.
"My . . . what?"
"Come on, Kek. I see him holding your hand every morning."
Yeah, but boyfriend? We were supposed to be bed buddies, or roommates, or something, I'm not sure anymore. We did hold hands, and I loved snuggling with him on the couch. Bakura needed to be a specific kind of drunk to want to snuggle without sex being involved (you could tell he always wanted it, but he constantly fought it). Maybe Kyubi called it right with Ryou.
I stared at my sneakers and picked dirt under my nails. "He doesn't know about the fight."
"You better tell him."
"Isn't that how you lost your last fighter?"
"Look kid, I know a thing or two about relationships – I've failed in enough of them. Secrets are never a good idea, and they rarely last."
"I know. I'll try to tell him."
Kyubi snorted. "Do or don't do. There is no try."