Knockout • OT4

12 - Private Meetings

The morning after the fights the shitty underground ring is famous for, it was officially Michaels first day back at the gym.

He wasn't expecting a banner and balloons by any means, more like glares and those patronizing smirks he's grown so used to.

Especially from Calum.

They both felt it, the tension and the realization at the end of the older man's fight that night. It's like everything was revealed, a bandage ripped off a barely healed wound.

Calum saw the absolute horror flood on the pretty boys eyes, watching his already small frame shrink further in itself as the crowds cheers only boomed louder within the gyms walls.

If you asked Calum, it was an incredibly memorable night.

The bite marks and hickeys on his neck.. on all three of their necks proved it to be so.

In simpler terms, Luke definitely kept his promise if Calum was to win that night, but not under his terms. Sure, the blonde was riding all high and mighty on his stride of dominance that day, subtly guaranteeing a good fucking back at home with Calums face buried in the mattress.

But Luke knew that the second his winner walked off that ring, he was going to be the one with his face buried deep into the mattress.

Both him and Ashton. Calum made sure to take care of them both just as they did him in return.

Which brings them here, now, training with the few punching bags that were still in working order. Luke was kicking at the bag one way which then he'd pivot his body to kick at it backwards. It was a good exercise to build strength in his legs but to increase his balance and flexibility of the major joints.

Ashton was using the punching bag for just that, punching.

Each blow he delivered shook the heavy sack violently. His muscles strained against his black tank top as the veins in his arms bulged. Every hit just got more progressively violent.

Calum on the other hand, was trying to take a more clever approach by strength training today. He didn't exactly come out of the fight unscathed. Even the best fighters know to let their opponents get a few good hits on them, to boost their confidence before it comes crashing down along with their limp bodies on the hard mats.

He was lifting heavy weights as he laid back against a bench, arms shaking with the increasing overload of each rep. He knew he'd feel it tomorrow, but at least he'd get stronger for whenever the gym would book his next fight.

Michael however, was hiding in the locker rooms.

He managed to slide in unnoticed by the other three as he began to change. He figured leaving his sweatpants on to cover the gauze and bandages on his progressively healing wounds would be.. beneficial to say the least.

Training in black sweats and a long sleeved, dark red, fitted muscle shirt wasn't that out of norm.

Right?

He paced back and fourth as he tried to gain the confidence to go back into the gym. The week he took off was traitorous but still necessary. Now, he could train with his head on straight for the most part.

What he gained was minimal to what he lost however.

He lost the confidence to go back in that gym with his head held high, with the willingness to finally beat one of the three before they'd flip that idea on its ass along with Michael being sent face first into the hard mats.

He's lost the adrenaline of getting under their skin, all because he knew that it was inevitable death waiting to happen. One twist of the neck when they'd have him in a choke hold to cut of circulation indefinitely, one crude comment and he'd lose to ability to see for a week or two.