Brightside | ✓

43.2 | mad woman

Cruella Queen knew how to throw a fucking punch.

Eddie didn't know many celebrities who looked that delicate that could hit that hard and weren't already on the circuit. She felt like she was taking more punches than she was landing. It wasn't that often that Eddie got to fight people her own height. Then again, it wasn't that often her stature made it on a professional circuit. She was the odd one out. The anomaly. The blood moon. All her usual techniques didn't work on Cruella. If she got close, Cruella hit harder. Used it to her advantage. She couldn't really blame her, she would've done the same thing.

Each time a round ended, Eddie realized how alone she was. The crowd cheered for both of them, sure. Nothing got the general public going like fighting—and Cruella wasn't exaggerating, the crowd was huge for an underground fight. But there wasn't anyone in her corner for the moments the cheers went silent. No Coach to remind her the weaknesses she was looking for. No cutman to numb the aches all over her body from taking punches. Nobody there to even give her some water, she had to figure out how to get it herself with her gloves on; just like she'd had to bite the laces on her gloves and hope she'd done enough to keep them on for her fight. (Cruella had wrapped her hands but she'd skipped off to get herself ready. Left Eddie alone to her terrible thoughts.)

Not even one person there to say stay in the fight.

Nobody there to tell her she needed to stop, though.

The fourth round came quickly. She wished she could've said that she was excited to be in a fourth round, but nothing about her was proud of her performance. Cruella looked like she was having the time of her life. From the brief glances that she could steal between getting punched, of course. Eddie felt slow. Like she was a step behind. There was always footage she could review of her circuit opponents. Videos upon videos that Eddie could study and practice a defense against. But Cruella wasn't on the circuit. Cruella was new blood. Cruella was erratic, Cruella was unpredictable. Cruella could've won that match purely on Eddie not being able to tell where the fuck the next fist was coming from.

The two of them circled each other like predators. The ring was a cage. They were the animals. Hands up, poised. Feet quick. Cruella had a couple strands of hair out of place; Eddie kept getting sweat in her eye. Eddie needed to get her up against the ropes if she was going to win it, she kept her hands high as she spared a glance over Cruella's shoulder.

The last thing she expected to see was a pair of big, dumb, stupid hazel doe eyes in the crowd. Just beyond the ropes. God damn it.

It wasn't often that Eddie lowered her hands in the ring. Coach or not. Just as soon as she'd seen the eyes she wanted to stare into for eternity, she met the mat with a hard thud. Her eye swelled. The crowd cheered. Eddie tried to push herself up but what the hell was the point. In sanctioned fights, a referee would call the match, raise the arm of the winner. In an underground fight, especially one that lasted that long, people crowded the ring. Jumped up and cheered and hoisted the winner into the air on shoulders that could carry them. Left the loser on the floor where they could wallow in their pity.

Eddie wasn't even mad that she lost—it had to happen eventually. She'd lost more fights than she could count while trying to make it. When she finally made herself get up, there were too many people to shove out of the way. Bumbling apologies aside, Eddie practically dove between the ropes to get down and chase him in the direction he'd all but sprinted. Poor sportsmanship on her part not waiting by Cruella's side as they announced her victory. Add that to the list of apologies that she needed to make in her life. Add that to the bottom of her to-do list when he couldn't reply to a text but he could find her in the middle of a warehouse at an underground boxing match that was hardly advertised.