Impact (H.S. AU) (COMPLETED)

23 * THE WAY I DO * 23

JESS

I walk back in the door from class and drop my bag on the couch. The house is nearly silent, but the mustang is parked in the driveway. I make myself another cup of coffee despite it being nearly noon knowing that it'll be a late night tonight. I hear a noise coming from down the hall from a room I've never been inside, the room that used to be Louis's before he moved into my dorm. I grab my coffee and follow the noise, the inconsistent thuds growing louder with every step. I push the door open and my eyes land on him, his back facing me. There's a black punching bag hanging from a hook drilled into the ceiling. It swings back and forth every time he hits it, making the unstable hook shake.

He has earbuds in his ears and his knuckles are wrapped with white tape rather than boxing gloves. His hair is pulled up in a bun under a hood from the jacket over his shoulders. It's steaming hot in here from the heat pouring through the vents, but he's still dressed in a hoodie and long sweat pants. His forehead is dripping with sweat.

It's mesmerizing to watch him, the way he creates a rhythm of hits between his hands and feet. He moves fluidly, kicking his knees up easily and making the bag rock harshly back and forth. I turn to leave before I hear his voice. I face him again and he throws his hood off, tugging the earbuds out of his ears.

"Hey baby, what's wrong?" He pants, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead.

"Nothing," I say, moving back towards the door, "I was just wondering where the noise was coming from."

"Oh, sorry." He says, reaching down to grab a bottle of water and chug some of it down.

"It's okay," I nod, "Aren't you hot?" I ask gesturing to his outfit.

"Yeah, all the time." He smirks smugly.

"Not what I meant." I sigh, shoving him as he comes closer.

He unzips his hoodie and throws it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. His entire chest is dripping with sweat and bruises still cover his torso, looking almost worse today than they looked yesterday. The bandage is no longer across the bridge of his nose, only a large bruise remaining. There's pads taped to his stomach with wires attached, leading to the pocket of his pants. They look like electroshock pads, suction cupped to his skin. He wraps his sweaty arms around me, his veins bulging from his forearms.

"What is this?" I ask, touching one of the pads.

"Electroshock therapy," He breathes, still clearly out of breath, "They help with the soreness."

I nod, my eyes scanning over his chest and stomach where five of the pads are all stuck. I wonder if it hurts, especially with the bruises covering him.

"Are you okay?" He asks, tilting my chin up to meet his concerned eyes.

"Yeah," I sigh, not wanting him to stress about me, "I'm just worried about you, and tonight."

His eyes break away from mine as he stares at the wall behind me, gritting his jaw. I know the last thing he wants to be reminded of is the fact that I have to go to this fight tonight, but I can't seem to get the thought out of my mind.

"It's gonna be okay," He assures me, giving my arms a squeeze, 'I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"I'm not worried about me, I'm worried about you," I say seriously, reaching my hand to his cheek and rubbing my thumb lightly over the bruise on his jaw, "How bad do you have to lose for everyone to believe it?"

"I'll be okay," He says lightly, "I've been in some bad fights, this isn't even the worst I've been roughed up, dollface."

I frown, moving my hand from behind his ear to his split lip, running my thumb along his bottom lip and making him wince. I wonder how many times he's torn the same skin. I miss the ring that used to sit in the corner of his mouth, he took it out for the fight and it hasn't returned since.