ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴅɪᴀᴍᴏɴᴅs⋆｡° ✮ || Earth 42! Miles x Reader

˖°.𓆩ᴄᴀᴛᴛʏ𓆪 .°˖

You sprung up at exactly 7:35 in the morning the next day, ready to begin the day with a nice full meal. You spent no more than three minutes texting the boy from yesterday, and you had learned that his name was Miles. He explained to you that he had no actual trainer, he just watched his Uncle as a kid and picked up everything from him. Fucking sick, I know. I was supposed to be learning a couple of things from him later today, so I made sure that I didn't unpack my bag the day prior. I got to work in the kitchen, making some delicious berry pancakes with a side of eggs and bacon. 

   I poured my bum-ass brother a bowl of cereal and drizzled some milk on the top, opting to let him pour the rest as I relaxed on the couch, turning on the dreadful news channel. As much as I hated watching the news due to how depressing it was, It was nice to stay notified of what was going on in the area. Nothing new, really, just more robbery, crime, and the prowler claiming the life of another man. I huffed loudly as I changed the channel, deciding to just watch Netflix until it was time for me to get ready. I spent two hours on that couch, listening to Kalias semi-shout at me in the background as he bickered about why I didn't make him pancakes and why his cereal was so soggy but had no visible trace of milk. 

   I rolled my eyes with a mischievous smirk, putting my hand over my mouth to shield my forming smile. I checked the time on my phone, groaning as I saw that It was already 9. I skulked back into my room, changing and getting ready to slide back to the gym with Miles. I was already sore from yesterday's workout, and I was a little irritable from bickering with my brother and having just woken up. I put on my black leggings and a cropped hoodie that I had ripped the sleeves off of, slinging my bag over my shoulder as I stuffed my AirPods in my front pocket. Today was rather cold, causing me to wrap both of my arms around my shoulders as I rethink ripping the sleeves off of my hoodie.

   I speed up into a brisk jog, doing everything in my power to reach the gym in a shorter amount of time. As I swing open the door, I look for the familiar pair of braids as I scan my card at the front desk. My hands land on a figure with his head down, hoodie up, and two twin braids gently dangling out of the sides of his hooded figure. I speed over to him, muttering a smile "Hey" as he looks up at me, nodding upwards before getting up and gesturing for me to follow him up the stairs and into the boxing area. His voice is smooth, low, and hushed as he instructs me on some of his techniques, admitting that he has no idea how to teach me and has never taught anyone before.

"'m not really big on talkin'...you a visual learner?" he mutters as his words quiet down even more, silently asking if I'll understand if he just shows me what to do rather than tell me. I nod my head and watch as he silently reciprocates, then begins to throw the fastest, and heaviest punches I've ever seen in my life. I watched as I observed how he stood, leaning forward slightly as he supported himself with one foot slightly behind the other. I copied his stance to the best of my ability, throwing hard and heavy punches to the punching bag, but not achieving the same levels of speed. He made it seem like lightwork, not even so much as batting an eyelash at just how difficult it was to do this shit.

"You wanna shift most of your body weight to the front of your body...like, what's the word in English...uhm...channeling your anger to your upper body" He muttered, his steady and quiet voice just barely above a whisper. I've only really known this guy for an hour, but he came off as extremely shy or just plain unbothered. I gave him another nod, then tried to channel any non-existent rage into my punches. Whatever this guy had going on was clearly something serious, because no matter how much weight I distributed, I couldn't find it in me to throw a punch any heavier than my normal ones. Sure, I was a fraction of the way faster and found a better form, but there's absolutely no way in fucking hell this man beat 9 after only being here for a day.

"Fuck..." I panted, feeling my arms slowly start to give out on themselves. "And you do this shit every day?" I asked, turning my head towards Miles who still looked as stoic and nonchalant as ever. He looked up from the ground, meeting my eyes almost immediately. I took in his appearance for a brief moment, becoming acutely aware that one of his eyes was greener than the other. He nodded slightly, muttering a quiet "Somethin' like that...It's not something I really love though." I nodded as Miles gave me his own explanation as to why he didn't like training here. I felt like I understood him entirely, too.

I wasn't exactly thrilled with training, knowing that I was only doing it to protect myself and my loved ones. It's not really uplifting when you feel like if you're not strong you're on the bottom of the food chain, and knowing that always feeds into the black hole of depression that slowly eats away at everyone in its own way. So to hear someone else validate that feeling felt refreshing in its own way. "Yeah, I get it...but it never hurts to be stronger in this world" I shrugged, taking a sip from my ice-cold water bottle to combat the soreness in my arms. Miles only nodded, adjusting his hoodie slightly so the grey wool wouldn't slip off the top of his head.

"C'mon. We're gonna go do cardio" he mumbled, immediately walking downstairs and giving me absolutely zero time to protest. I groaned loudly, arms going limp in my pockets as I trudged forward. I already felt exhausted from spending so much time attempting to perfect my punches, but damn this nigga runs right after? This bozo must have a pain kink or something because what possesses you to run however far after doing all of that? I grumbled as I set my gym bag aside and began lightly jogging alongside him outside the gym.

"I don't wanna hear all that whining...You asked what I do and this is what I do" he added as he gradually gained speed, going from a light jog to a semi-sprint.  After around two hours of running, every step felt like fire. My lungs felt like they were burning, my throat felt dry and everything began to sound muffled. By the time Miles turned around and made it back to the gym, I was practically dead. I panted on the floor, praying to whoever was listening that I didn't just accidentally sign up for some shit that I wasn't prepared for. "What...could you POSSIBLY...be *pant* training for?"

"I think I wanna do professional boxing...yeah." He added as he tightened his hoodie strings.

He smiled at me, bending down to the ground to give me a small pat on the head before exiting the gym entirely.

"Same time tomorrow"

Oh my fucking god, this nigga is CRAZY.