(A/N: This is one of the last ones for the Your Choice imagines. Sorry more or less that it's super long, but I hope it's worth it. P.S. Civil War does not exist.)
Boom.
The punching bag budged.
Twice now.
Anger flushed your systems.
Your ear buds were in, yet you couldn't process the nonsensical music. Instead, blood pulsed through your head, filling your ears.
It was power, exertion. You don't know relief until you have release.
The bag was giving more and more. Soon, you could see busts in the material.
Almost done.
Your fists were lightning. Every strike was harmonious. One after another, you beat the anxiety from your body.
You gave one last punch, filled with energy.
Sure enough, the bag fell from the chains, a rip tearing through it and sand spilling out.
Another one bites the dust.
You took out your earbuds and turned to take a drink.
"I didn't know anyone else could really do that."
You were shocked as you turned to see someone standing in the doorway. They had a large sillouette from the dimmed lights.
"Hey, it's after-hours, buddy. You can come back tomorrow," you called. You didn't need some drunk wandering around your gym.
The man stepped forward and you nearly gasped.
Tall, blond, blue-eyed- he was attractive. And he didn't look drunk.
"Sorry, ma'am. I simply came by because of a friend's recommendation. I didn't see the hours on the door-"
"So you assumed we were open at ten at night?" You let out a small laugh.
"You never know. Er- I never know."
A silence settled between the two of you.
"What did you mean earlier? The 'I didn't know anyone else could really do that'? Is it a normality for you?"
A small smile ghosted his face.
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