Forever and ever 2. The adventure starts now.

Part 123.

Tom's pov~

Bob may be about 20 years older and have decades more boxing experience than me, but I didn't see that as an excuse for him to knock me out with one punch.
After all, he was 20 years older than me! How was that possible? Just last weekend, he taught me how to dodge quickly for the first time, after almost half a year of training. I believed he was still hiding a lot from me, but Bob wanted to gradually test my strength, he had just explained, otherwise I would quickly forget many things, execute them incorrectly, and thus injure myself. I almost felt like the Karate Kid, and when I made the joke, he just chuckled quietly to himself.

He was also the one who believed that my aggressions were a potential I shouldn't waste, and thus the first to see my anger issues not as a problem, but as a gift that I should use better. He also gave me the advice that no woman would be attracted to someone who was a jerk, and even less so if they yelled at her for no good reason. I think that was the key to saving my relationship with Y/N. I could finally stay calm when she talked about people like Jacob, and I let out the anger I actually wanted to expend during boxing training with Bob. He benefited by me learning faster, and I benefited by not needing therapy anymore. A win was a win.

"I'm thinking of surprising Y/N on Friday."
"How do you plan to do that?" A jab to the ribs as I momentarily let my guard down.
"Going to visit her for the weekend. She has this party on Friday and I think she's a bit nervous." I figured because she always bit her nails talking about it, and didn't know what to gift Wayne until a few days ago. "So who would she prefer than her perfect Husband?" I smirked, quickly getting the grin wiped off my face with yet another punch.
"Only if you haven't lost all your strength by then," he taunted, delivering his fourth blow of the day while still looking as fresh as ever.
"Shit." I groaned, unable to help the curse that escaped as I tasted blood coming from my inner cheek.
But one thing remained the same with my anger issues. If someone hurt me, I no longer showed remorse, and with a swollen cheek, it was reason enough to take off the loving Y/N mask and switch back into boxing mode.

I blocked his next attempt to hit me with my weak hand and struck with full force when he least expected it. His entire head snapped back from the impact, hitting him squarely on the nose, and a loud grunt of pain echoed through the empty, dark room. Did I feel bad for hitting a 56-year-old? A little. Did it make the situation better that it was Bob I had hit? Definitely.
Bob was used to taking hits, and with a shake of his head, the birds circling around his head soon returned to their nests.
"Well done Holland!" He praised, his voice low.
After all, it was his work that had given me such strength and taught me how to deliver practiced blows.

~

After the training, we both stood by the benches in the corner. Our bags on top, four water bottles from which we occasionally drank next to them, and of course our towels, which I was reaching for just now, because my body was a sweaty mess, and blood was running down the corner of my mouth. I wiped it off as if it was the same colour as sweat and rinsed the remaining rest down with water.

While my chest still heaved heavily, Bob hat already managed to regain control of his breathing, though he chose to sit down while I remained standing, my palms resting on my hips. Unlike me, Bob wore a T-shirt, but a tattoo snaked its way beneath his sleeve, extending down to his elbow. It was hard to make out in the dim light, but I figured it might resemble a flame. Had never noticed it before, but then again, I didn't pay too much attention to his tattoos.

"What exactly is the tattoo on your arm?" I inquired, pointing to his elbow, and Bob raised his chin, acknowledging my question.

"A burning snake," he replied.

"Does it hold any significance?"

He nodded. "A bit. It's related to my father, whose favorite animal was a snake, and when I was young, he sometimes forced me to burn my favorite toys if I misbehaved or if they got in his way." That was so cruel, he must have suffered trauma watching one after another of his favorite toys burn down. After all, Parker's toys were his best friends in a way, and even for a nonexistent dog, we spent hours searching in the park... "I realized that to truly move on from him, I would have to burn him too, but I couldn't bring myself to do it." I understood, yet I would have damn well done it. The veins in my temples were already throbbing.

"So you got a tattoo of a burning snake..." I mused aloud, and he agreed with my assessment. At least that explained that tattoo, but I wondered how many more he had.
"How about you, white boy?" He nudged his chin towards my smooth chest, where not even a hint of hair dared to appear. Perfect canvas for tattoos, but I had never really thought about it. Y/N loved my smooth skin without any ink on it too much. So why destroy that part of me that Y/N loved?
"Ever thought about getting a tattoo?" he added.
"No." I shook my head, offering the answer. But if I ever changed my mind, the tattoo would have to have a significant meaning. Period.

~I quite literally could not choose, so here is to 4 pictures, looking the exact same. Just choose whichever you like and be happy. Thanks. Might even change the cover later.~