K.O

1.

"Again!" A harsh voice rang out in the gym. A tall brunette stood in a ring with blonde hair and a slew of tattoos on his pale skin. The brunette huffed and wiped sweat off his brow before throwing another quick set of jabs at the blonde's padded hands. He puffed out a harsh breath before looking out at the man across the gym, the man narrowed his eyes. "Again," he barked out for what felt like the hundredth time.

The brunette scowled before throwing another quick set of jabs, these far harder than the last. The blonde across from him stumbled and lost his balance, falling to the floor of the ring. The brunette sighed before helping the blonde up off the floor. He looked back to the man across the room.

"That good enough for you Red? Or do I need to knock you on your ass too?" The man- Red scoffed and walked towards the ring.

"You wouldn't have very much luck with that Johnson, but yes that's good enough." Red said with half a smirk. Larry scoffed and shook his head before pulling his gloves off, his knuckles stinging. How he managed to split his knuckles even with wraps and gloves he would never know. He looked over to the blonde, Travis who was pulling the pads off his hands.

"You alright? Looked like you hit the buckle pretty hard." He asked quietly. Travis looked up and lightly shoved him.

"Yeah, yeah. Just ready for Neil's tall ass to get back so I can stop filling in for him." He replied with half a laugh. Larry snorted and shook his head.

"Eh, he'll be back next week, and then you'll be off the hook, no more hard falls." Larry replied, slowly unwrapping his hands. Travis nodded as Red made it to the ring and gracefully climbed through the ropes. He took a glance at Larry's hands and shook his head with a sigh.

"How in the hell do you still end up with split knuckles Johnson??" Larry laughed and just shrugged with a crooked smile on his face.

"Couldn't tell you man, shit stings though." Larry said with another shrug, Red let out a sigh.

"Alright go on, get your ass home and ice your hands and clean them so they don't get infected." He said, pushing Larry towards the edge of the ring. Larry laughed again as he clambered out of the ropes and got to his bag. He grabbed his keys and waved them in Travis' direction. The blonde shook his head and waved Larry off. Mysterious boyfriend must be picking him up then. He thought to himself slinging his bag over his shoulder.

He threw a peace sign up over his head as he walked toward the exit, hearing Red call out a 'Bye!' He made it out to his old beaten up truck and tossed his bag in the cab next to him. Started it up, and plugged his phone into the aux, cranking up the volume and the AC to combat the Arizona heat. He clicked his seat belt together and hauled ass out of the parking lot. He was more than ready to be home, and it was late enough that the cops wouldn't give him too much trouble on his way.

About 30 minutes later he pulled up to the gravel driveway to his house, he threw the truck in park and slid out of the driver seat. Making sure to grab his bag and phone before he shut and locked the door to the truck. He made it up the stairs to his small house, and scrambled inside away from the heat, ready for a shower and sleep. You wouldn't think a man that drives a beat up old red truck and lived in a cozy home would be too well off, but you'd be wrong. Larry Johnson was the holder of the mid-weight boxing title, and he was proud of it.