[kaylor] throw your punches;

chapter one

She'd been lucky enough to for the most part avoid the face that still occasionally haunted her dreams. Taylor didn't purposely shy away from that face to be perfectly honest. Sometimes she wished she could find a match poster and just stand there and glare at the girl that let her down, but fate had felt different and spun the strings of their lives close enough together that their frayed edges caught on one another, and soon Karlie and Taylor would come to be hyper-aware of each other once more.

/ / /

Training days were her favorite.

They weren't lazy, oh no. No one made the mistake of referring to her training days as leisurely. She worked her ass off and went home, muscles aching, head pounding, and hands throbbing from blooming bruises.

The thing Taylor loved about training days the most is that they were aimless and she had no audience. A moment of peace and quiet (save for the thud of her fists against leather), surrounded by those who she trusted the most came rarely to the boxer, but in the studio, those moments could be found in abundance. There was a certain air of camaraderie, too. Lewd jokes passed between trainers and playful teasing marked good times for everyone. Taylor stayed out of the crude banter mostly, but she couldn't help but crack a smile at some of them, and that's when her friends knew their jokes were really good.

Monday morning drags her out of the warm cocoon of her bed. Her arms pat blindly out from beneath the covers and her toes curl as she stretches her legs. A raspy sigh falls from her lips and she clears her throat in surprise. Taylor lifts herself up into a sitting position and sits cross legged on the bed, glancing out the wall-to-wall window with a slow smile. She reaches down and presses her fingers into the muscles of her feet, trying to massage away their constant aches with no avail. Her legs swing to the right and she stands up, inhaling her first deep breath of the day, letting the air fill her lungs until it hurt to breathe in. A petite mewl at her feet startles her out of a morning haze.

A small, white kitten brushes up against Taylor's feet. "Hey, you." Taylor coos, moving her foot just barely to nudge against the cat. The smile grows on her face and she heads towards the bathroom. There, she turns on the old tap and waits a few seconds before sinking her face into the basin to splash water on her groggy skin. Olivia leaps up onto the counter beside her and reaches a paw out to snag some water before bringing it back to lap at. Taylor leaves the sink running as she steps into the shower for Olivia's entertainment. Her hair feels heavy and damp on her head within seconds and the warm water brings her to life. Soon, Taylor is singing softly to the cold tiles of her bathroom, her only audience her cat. Olivia meows once more from the other side of the shower curtain, eliciting a giggle from Taylor.

"Not a fan of my singing?" Taylor calls out. She's always been prone to talking to animals she knows will never respond, but it entertains her nonetheless.

The rest of her routine is an automatic blur. She stretches a pair of workout tights over her legs, hangs a loose tanktop over her torso, ties her hair up into a ponytail, and grabs a water on her way out.

The apartment is silent for a few seconds before the door creaks back open, Taylor rushing back inside. "Food! You probably need food," she says breathlessly through a smile, quickly pouring some dry food into Olivia's bowl. Then, she leaves once more, on her way to the studio.