I Hate You More

Boxing Gloves

Remington

"Alright," I smiled as I held the door open for my brothers, and band mates. I put my hand on Harlen's shoulder as she walked past me, "the reviews on this shop were good but, you'll have to tell me what you think."

Her focus wasn't on me as she pointed to a tv with a smile on her face. I followed her finger and saw that one of our music videos was playing, "Ok. So I might've called and told him that my bandmates and I wanted to get matching tattoos."

She laughed at my words, "I think we should take the advertisement we can get."

"You Ricky?" Sebastian asked a man in the corner of the small apartment space next to a black tattoo bed.

"Yeah," He nodded, "nice to meet you guys."

We all took turns shaking his hand, and introducing ourselves.

"So what were you guys thinking?" Ricky asked.

"We were just gonna do X's," Sam piped up, holding his hand up, and pointing to it, "just on the back of our hands."

"Sick." Ricky nodded.

"Uh, I was gonna get something too if that's alright." Harlen said.

I sent her a question look and earned nothing but a shrug in return. That gave me the silent sign to move on.

"Sure," He smiled, "no problem."

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"So can I see what you got now," I asked, with a smirk on my face as Harlen and I made our trek back to the bus. It was about three in the morning and we wanted snacks so, we walked two blocks to a 7/11, "or are you gonna keep it to yourself forever."

She took a sip of her slushie and punched me in the shoulder but, showed me the inside of her bicep nevertheless. A pair of boxing gloves took up the last empty space on her left arm, meaning that she now had a complete sleeve of different tattoos.

"Boxing gloves?" I questioned.

"Yeah," she nodded slowly before taking a seat against a nearby brick wall. She had her braids tied back in a half up, half down look, and it looked amazing. She always looked amazing, "I uh- that day that I ran into you at Starbucks?"

I thought about that day. It was months ago, and I can't even remember why I was mad at her. I nodded my head for her to continue, and she did.

"So uh, a client called me up- or a potential client I guess," I took a seat next to her, setting the bag of snacks we got in between us, "and he asked me if I could design a tattoo that symbolizes strength, and the ability to fight through things- and- and overcome them. Hope you know?"

My focus switched from her eyes to her lips, going back and forth as she told me the story behind her ink.

"He was this big, bulky, army guy, and he lost a couple of his friends, and even got put in the hospital himself but, had gotten through all of it. Anyway, I was stuck on it for a minute because, I didn't really understand that what it meant to- keep calm and carry on and all that bullshit," I chuckled at her remark, "but I finally sat down and drew up a pair of boxing gloves. I mean they're literally used to fight, and that's what he was doing. He had been through so much, and kept pushing through it. I mean hell he's still going back out there, and fighting for people he doesn't even fucking know. Some people don't even deserve that kind of selflessness. I mean I sure don't."

"Don't talk about yourself that way," I interrupted, making sure my eyes were on hers so that she knew I meant what I was saying, "do you know how much shit you've been through? And look at you! You're still smiling, and putting everything you have into the people, and things that you love."

"Anyways," She chuckled awkwardly, "I got offered this job with you guys, and he didn't want to wait until I got back so he went to someone else, for a different design. What I drew spoke to me, so I decided to just get it myself."

"I think it's beautiful," My words came out at just above a little whisper, "you took all the shit that's happened to you, and you overcame it. You're one of the strongest people I know. You kept enduring everything for someone you loved. I don't know if I could do that for my brothers."

"Yeah," Harlen nodded slowly, "maybe I should've gotten a punching bag instead."

Her scoff sent a ping to my heart. She was so beautiful, and so talented. Such a kind person, and her heart was probably bigger than the rest of the band's combined but, she still so obviously felt alone, and it broke me. No one deserved to feel that way, I don't care who they were. There's too many people, that walk alone and, not a single one of them should have to.

"No." I shook my head.

"Oh come on," Harlen chuckled dryly, "you said it yourself. My dad waits for me to make a mistake, so he can let everything out on me. I'm not a person to him. I'm some fucking doll that he can break when he gets angry."

I heard her sniffle, and the light from the street lamp was just right on her face so that I could see the tears glistening.

"I'm not gonna pretend like I know what you've been through," I shrugged, "but sometimes I feel like people see me as a machine, that doesn't have any feelings. Like they made me, so they're allowed to break me whenever they want. Everyone always thinks I owe them something, which I guess maybe I do. I wouldn't have anything without our fans, none of us would. Sometimes I don't think we'll make it for very much longer before everything's sucked out of us. I guess everyone's a punching bag for somebody else."

The words rang in my head

Punching Bag

"Well what if I'm not built for that," Harlen shrugged defeatedly, "I'm so tired Rem."

She laid her head on my shoulder, and I kissed it, "Me too babe. Me too."

Harlen lifted her head and looked into my eyes. We just sat there, staring at eachother, for what felt like hours, and then I leaned in and kissed her. This kiss was different then the ones we had leading up to it. Usually, when we kissed, it was rough, and rushed, and going somewhere else but, this one was different. This one wasn't rough but, it was passionate. It was slow, and it wasn't going anywhere. I could feel everything. Her heartbreak, her exhaustion, her anger, and her loneliness. She was laying everything out right in front of me, and it was impossible for me to not do the same. It felt like light years before she pulled away due to her need for oxygen. We were both out of breath, and confused, and I was personally terrified because I knew one thing.

I was in too deep.