𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 → 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

52. you've got a fat ass, sunshine!

saturday,
december 11th, 2020

LUKE HEMMINGS

I feel like shit. Complete and utter shit and not just because I'm concussed with a couple broken ribs and a throbbing nose.

"Easy, bud," Cal seethes, helping me get situated on my couch.

I grunt, not necessarily being able to prevent the way I'm gripping on to his shoulder for dear life. It's not my fault that with every step I take, my ribs are violently punctured with a simple intake of oxygen. Okay, maybe it is slightly my fault. I'm not entirely sure.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I settle into the bend of my comfortable couch, my shoulders relaxing. Calum stands before me, a slight frown on his lips and hand on his hips. His eyes swivel over to the unlit Christmas tree in the corner and he exhales.

"You put that up yourself?" he asks me in light amusement, cocking an eyebrow.

I scowl, "Is that so hard to believe?" I retort.

Cal chuckles, folding his arms across his broad chest, "Considering I had to practically force you to last year, I'd say yes." I just roll my eyes, not bothering to deny his statement. He sighs and I despise the pity he holds in his dark eyes. "What happened, Luke? Why wasn't Ezra there when I came back?"

Even the sound of her pretty name feels like a stab to the chest. The heart, more specifically, as dramatic as that sounds. I shudder at our earlier interaction, where I told her I likely wouldn't choose her over boxing. I wince; I didn't know how else to put it. She wanted honesty and I'd be fucked if I told her one more lie.

Riverside is a shithole. A proper rut that haunts me but I have an undeniable attachment to the hole in the wall basement because when everything else in my pitiful life was eating away at me, Riverside dragged me up through the dirt to where I am now. As reluctant as I am to admit that to anyone, especially Rocky — the smug prick, I am no stranger to the thought of Riverside being an odd sanctuary for me.

Fighting there has helped me in more ways than one. It pulled me out of my all-consuming depressed state in 2016 and enabled me to eliminate all my rage in the form of fist to punching bag, and even more so; fist to skin. By releasing all of my pent up guilt (for surviving the crash when it really should've been me) and my anger (for my bastard brother running off with my lover) and my grief (because really, I have never gone a day without missing my family), I could spend more time with my grandparents. Quality, sincere time and when outside of the ring, I was in general a better person. I was happier, I felt lighter and it was all thanks to that abandoned pit in the outskirts of Greenwich.

All of this, I believe, is still relevant. The only issue is now, I have somebody else to think about other than myself. I have to take Ezra's feelings into consideration because I'd hate myself if I ever hurt her. It isn't that I want to choose Riverside over her; it's that I want her to stay with me either way. Maybe I'm selfish. I fucking love her and I would do almost anything for her but I just don't think deserting Riverside is included in that anything. As insane as it may sound, Riverside grounds me and stabilises me and even if I end up in the fucking hospital, I can't really say goodbye to fighting.

But then, I'm mulling over the thought of my life without Ezra and I'm not fond of how empty it'd be.

"She doesn't want to be with me," I spit angrily, frustrated at myself and Ezra, even though it really isn't her fault. I knew I was keeping this part of my life from her for a good goddamn reason.

Cal scoffs, "Yeah, right. Because she doesn't look at you like you put every individual star in the sky and you make the moon shine every night," he mumbles, and his intricate words actually surprise me.