𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 → 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

31. cherry blossom tree

tuesday,
november 9th, 2020

LUKE HEMMINGS

I fucking lost.

After four years of being undefeated in that shithole, I lost.

I wasn't the only one who was shocked. Calum was too, as was Rocky. Sure, I was the only one bleeding from my ribs and bruising as I laid on the concrete ground of the ring, but we were all equally shocked.

Because I don't lose.

"Luke, can you hear me?" Cal worries, my face held between his rough hands.

I cough, grabbing my ribs in pain as I groan out, "I've been punched up a bit, I've not lost my hearing, dumbass."

Rocky scoffs out a chuckle and it's only now that I realise we're in my locker room rather than in the middle of the main fighting room. Okay, so maybe my memory is a tad hazy.

"Rocky, ice? And water," Calum orders, and while Rocky isn't usually one to follow them, I think he's too in shock to disobey anybody right now.

He leaves the room and Cal helps me sit up, leaning my bare back against the cold, unpainted wall. He looks at me, eyeing up my beat up face that I haven't gotten a chance to see yet, and wincing at the state of my cut ribs. I can't quite remember if my skin split when I was dragged across the ground or when my opponent relentlessly hit me there.

"Luke," Cal whispers, bewilderment wild in his dark eyes and that's what I try to focus on because I'm worried I'm losing consciousness, "You're so fuckin' distracted, mate. Is everything okay?"

His words have not stopped replaying over and over again in my head since Friday night.

After I dropped Ezra home, I spun around and headed for Riverside because I never miss a fight and I've had one scheduled for the 5th for weeks. And maybe I was distracted because I just had one of the best nights of my pathetic little life and I wonder if that's what got the wind forced out of me so violently.

Because Luke Hemmings doesn't lose a fight.

I tried my best, I really did because I craved that £3,000 like I do every time I fight. It wasn't enough. It wasn't near enough and I don't know why because I tried. And yet every time he punched me, knocked me to the ground or made me double take, the only thing I could envision was her.

Her, and her fucking chocolate coloured eyes and her constant blushing cheeks and her dozens of freckles littered across her nose and her lips that were puckered all swollen for me while I pinned her against my car.

Frustratedly, I sigh, pulling at the roots of my hair. My right hand cannot stop moving, a blue inked pen between my fingers as I scribble in my notebook but I'm not even sure what I'm writing. It's 9am, class starts in half an hour but I need a coffee before I feel remotely able to teach today.

I force myself to drop the pen, sealing my journal shut and tying it with the string. I shove it in my desk drawer which I proceed to lock before shrugging on my jacket. I embark on the short journey to the campus coffee shop, where I order a large black coffee to hopefully motivate me today.

As I'm gripping the piping hot styrofoam, walking back to my lecture hall, my eyes land on a cherry blossom tree in the distance. It's unsurprisingly still standing.

After all, it's only been two years.

"And then I told her no, I can't fuck you while your roommate watches," Calum exasperates, hands flailing around but I'm not focused on him, "Because, I mean, her roommate was a dude and I simply don't swing that way, you know? But anyway, she— Luke what the fuck is wrong with you?"