A/n: Rough edit
Elijah Reef
Whenever I used to think about Noah fighting I only thought about him getting hurt, killed even.
I thought nothing good could possibly come out of Crosshits, not until he brought me into his world, showed me what his fighting means to him.
He and his mom leave today to go live with his aunt while his parents file for a divorce but before they left he wanted to show me something.
I didn't think he was going to bring me to Crosshits when he told me that. Especially since he made me promise not to come back here just a few weeks ago.
And second to that it's a Wednesday afternoon, we got out of school less than a hour ago and there's almost no one here.
I spotted a few guys here and there but not many.
I was confused but I didn't say anything as I sat on the bench in the dressing room- or whatever you want to call it- and watched Noah wrap his hand. He changed out of his school clothes. Now he wore black shorts, long socks, and sneakers. His hair was pulled back out of his handsome face and he took out his lip ring.
My eyes wondered along his skin like I've never seen it before. I wanted to take a moment to analyze him in this environment. This is where he spends most of his time. This place is where he's devoted his energy for years. And I wanted to feel what he wants me to feel, that's why he brought me here.
My eyes wondered along his tainted skin like was my first time truly looking at him. And maybe it was. Maybe this whole time I hadn't been truly seeing him. I danced across scars, his marks of survival, evidence of his bravery. I danced across his tattoos. Words he valued so much he got them put permanently on his skin.
It ain't about how hard you hit, it's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.
Don't quit. You're already in pain. Get a reward from it.
Calm but alert. Relaxed but ready. Smooth but sharp. Humble but confident.
Many of them were this way, fighting related. And many of them were written through the scars. Almost like they wanted the scars, and whoever them them there, to know that there's no stopping him.
His body isn't just a place he lives, it's a temple.
My brown eyes moved back to his hands and I watched him wrap them. He did it mindless. He's done it more times than I could possibly count. I paid attention to the small things, like to the veins in his arms, and his clean nails.
Noah knew I was watching him. It's why he brought me here. His green eyes found mine and he raised his eyebrows. "Wanna do it?"
I eyed his left hand that was already wrapped.
"It's not hard." He pressed upon my silence.
He came at me and I stood. I watched him closely as he took the wrap and folded about two inches onto its self a few times.
Butterflies swarmed my stomach. The air was thick and took its time entering my lungs.
He started by wrapping his wrist twice before he held his hand between us and handed the rest of the wrap to me.
