in the ring / harry styles

25- What Remains Unsaid

The street is dark and quiet as we pull away from the gym, the city lights casting faint shadows across the road. Inside the car, the silence feels thick, heavy with everything neither of us is saying. I can feel the energy radiating off Harry—the kind of taut, restless energy that clings on after a fight. He's still buzzing with adrenaline, his jaw tense, his fingers tapping against the gear shift. Every now and then, his hand tightens, like he's trying to bleed out the last of whatever rage or tension remains.

After a few minutes, he breaks the silence, his voice rough, still laced with the intensity from earlier. "So," he starts, eyes flicking over to me briefly before locking back on the road. "What'd you think?" There's something in his tone—almost hesitant, but guarded, like he isn't sure he wants to hear the answer. "First time seeing me like that."

I let out a breath, still trying to find the words for the raw, almost jarring impact of watching him in the ring. "It was... something else," I admit, feeling that barely scratches the surface. "You were—" I pause, knowing I can't downplay it, not after what I saw. "You were brutal, Harry. It scared me a little."

A hint of a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, but there's a darkness behind it, something still tethered to that ring, like he's only halfway here. "Yeah?" he says, voice low, with an edge that's unfamiliar. 

The street is dark and quiet as we pull away from the gym, the glow of the city lights casting faint, shifting shadows across the road. Inside the car, an almost tangible tension sits heavy in the air, loaded with everything left unspoken. I can feel the energy radiating off Harry—something intense and barely contained, like he's still coming down from the high of the fight. He drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, his fingers tapping softly, as if trying to shake off the adrenaline still humming through his body.

After a few minutes, he finally breaks the silence, his voice rough, almost raw from the intensity of the night. "So," he says, his gaze shifting to me briefly before fixing back on the road. "What'd you think? First time seeing me like that."

I take a breath, my mind still reeling from the raw force of watching him in the ring. The words don't come easily, and I know anything I say will feel too small compared to the impact of what I saw. "It was... something else," I admit, feeling almost silly, like my words can't possibly hold the weight of what I'm feeling. "You were—" I hesitate, choosing my words carefully, but I know I can't downplay it. "You were brutal, Harry. Honestly, it scared me a little."

He lets out a low smirk, but there's something dark in his eyes, a trace of that intensity still lingering. "Yeah?" he says, his voice rough and edged, like he's still half in the ring. "Guess it's a bit different seeing me when I'm not holding back."

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, I realize just how much he holds back around me, that he's always had this other side—a part of himself he lets loose in the ring. It makes me wonder how much he carries inside, how much he keeps locked away.

The silence settles again, thicker this time, and before I can stop myself, I feel a question rising to the surface, one I've never asked him before. "How'd you get into all this?"

His jaw tightens, his eyes fixed straight ahead, and I can see the muscles in his forearm tense as he grips the wheel a little harder. I almost wish I hadn't asked, sensing how close he keeps certain parts of himself. I can tell he's shutting down, that he won't let me see this, but then he lets out a rough, resigned breath, his voice low, almost a mutter. "My dad," he says, and there's an edge in his tone, something sharp and unforgiving. "That's all you need to know."

I nod slowly, not pushing, but my heart aches, realizing just how much he's had to hold onto, how deep those wounds must go. I can feel the weight of his past sitting between us now, the way he keeps himself guarded, and I wish I could say something, anything, that would let him know I'm here if he ever needs to let that guard down. But he's not ready; that much is clear.