boxer ⋆ luke hemmings ✔️

39. Not Mia.

A busted lip, a potentially fractured nose and a broken glass bottle later, and Sophie found herself tending to both older men's wounds as if she was the only thing they could rely on.

She couldn't help but wince as she flitted between the two; separate wet towels in her hands patting carefully away at the blood, soft brown eyes trained in worry on each cut.

It was a little awkward doing so, for whenever she tended to one man, the other would stay watching; focused, fixated. She felt as if she was being judged silently, even though that definitely was not the case.

Calum's reaction surely hadn't been the best. It could have gone way better- very much so.

It took him a while, for at first he was convinced that it was all a joke; but then Luke began to explain, and a fight they wanted nothing more than to avoid at the time eventually ensued.

"Cal, mate, listen-"

"That's my fucking sister, you asshole!" rage. Sophie's grip on the door handle tightened, her contemplation being whether or not to wrench it open and attempt to save- or at least, stall- the day.

"Calum-"

"She's not Mia, Luke!"

Sophie didn't know exactly what happened, or how it played out. One second she could hear their hushed voices- discussing her correlation with a young woman she'd never met before- and the next, the sound of glass shattering.

Absolutely nothing could have prepared her for what she did once she heard it, for her reaction had been done solely on impulse; she ran right into the living room, exposing herself to the sight of Calum shoving the boxer up against the wall.

"I know she's not Mia!"

"Then why the fuck-"

"I love her, Calum! Mia has nothing to do with it!"

Normally, Sophie would feel nothing but terror freezing her veins. And that was what it felt like; as if somebody had injected a vial of ice water into her bloodstream, causing her to stay paralysed in shock; allowing nothing but bad thoughts to plague her frantic brain.

She had to move. She had to act. Calum had half of the glass beer bottle in his hand, and regardless of how Luke could easily fight his way out of the situation, she knew he wouldn't- he'd never hurt Calum. Ever.

The only reason she actually willed herself to do anything in the end was because of the shocked reaction on her older brother's face once he saw her; filled with shock, disbelief, assumption and ever-growing anger. 

"Sophie?"

He could barely choke her name out, yet his grip loosened on Luke's collar all the same. And seeing as the blond was a boxer- who'd been in many opportunity-ridden situations like this in the ring- Luke didn't hesitate to take advantage and swing.

Sophie winced, internally taking back everything she'd thought earlier on as all hell broke loose. Only, that wasn't the case; Luke didn't want to hurt Calum, didn't want to lay a single finger on him. But the man was pissed off and blinded by rage, a sharp glass shard in his hand that his fingers tightened around the very second Sophie came into the living room— from Luke's point of view, the older Hood was endangering not only him, but Sophie, too.

And that was a thought that the boxer absolutely refused to let slip. So he acted; swung first, retaliated.

If it kept his girl safe, then so be it.