boxer ⋆ luke hemmings ✔️

34. Beautiful.

"Jesus, that girl fucked you up pretty bad."

"Fuck off."

Rick Morane's jaw clenched, hard eyes glaring steadily at his own reflection in the dirty mirror opposite. Brady stood hovering above him, an eye roll accompanying his words as he placed a cold ice pack against the boy's cheek.

"Can't believe you lost a fight to a girl,"

"It wasn't a fight,"

"That's what makes it worse," Brady smirked.

Rick ignored him.

"You gonna tell me how it all went down, or..?"

"I didn't get to tell her."

"Maybe it's for the best," Brady snorted, earning a spiteful look from the boy with narrowed eyes, "What?"

"Whose side are you on?"

"The winning one," he retorted, "And quit moving your mouth. It's getting harder to see the bruise,"

Rick did as he was told, though conforming to someone elses instructions just didn't sit well with him. He felt like a complete pussy for turning to someone like Brady Marshall for help, but it had to be done.

A silence washed over them for a bit, before Rick let out a slight hiss of pain. Once again, Brady rolled his eyes, "You know-"

"What?"

"-This is just my opinion. Doesn't matter, or anything, it's just what I think," Rick looked at him with a raised eyebrow, willing for his friend-but-not-friend to carry on, "I think you should just let it go. You know, to avoid getting another fucking beating,"

"It's the guy who's the boxer, you idiot. Not Sophie,"

"Not the point. Look what she did to you," Brady said, "Dude, what have you even got against the guy? He's probably got a lot more on you than you do on him,"

"I've got that party. You remember that?"

"I can't remember a night that never happened, Rick."

Silence.

"Yeah? Well, it's a night that he think happened. And it's a night that she doesn't remember. You catching on yet?" Rick snapped.

Brady paused. Then a grin stretched over his face, and he shook his head, "Nah."

"I'm using what I can to get what I want. Because what I want, Brade, is something I can't fucking have,"

"Dude, you're speaking in tongues. Map it out for me?"

"Do you really care?" Rick scoffed.

"Not really. I actually hate you because you're a piece of scum," Brady said nonchalantly, "But you're my shitty roommate, and I used your toothbrush to clean my toilet yesterday. I also have a date I need to get to in like, ten minutes. So make it quick, or don't make it at all,"

"You have a date?"

Brady slapped him on the arm, "Don't stall. Tell me what happened," he said, "I thought Mr Hemsworth sold you... you know, stuff, that one night,"

Rick hesitated, "It's Hemmings," he corrected.

Brady nodded absentmindedly, obviously not caring in the slightest.

"Hemmings, Hemsworth, Horan. All H's, all irrelevant," he murmured in a hum, setting the ice pack down, "Now look. You gonna tell me, or nah? I have a dude waiting for me at the Olive Garden, you know,"