Fighter

chapter 1

my nimble fingers flip through the final pages of my grandma's latest recommendation. i lick my lips as i near the end. i tend to get very invested in the plot lines of these novels. once finished, i slam it down on the table out of success causing the surrounding people to stare at me. i take a sip of my tea in hopes of moving past the embarrassment. fortunately, my attention is robbed by a rather aggressive entrance into the diner. i turn to see a tall waspish-looking man trudging through and settling in the seat next to mine. he has a look of defeat drawn on his face. for a guy of his build, that can only mean one thing.

"welcome to the lonely hearts club," i speak wittily without making eye contact.

"what?" my peripheral is greeted with a look of utter disdain from the man. my eyes stay linked with the first page of my newest addition. 

"what's their name?" i scoff at his wary body language.

"what's who's name?" he speaks defensively.

I turn to look at him, "the person who finally brought you down from a pedestal." his breath hitches when our eyes meet. his continue to scan my face and body while i await his response. 

"t-tiffany," he remarks. his stutter fits his dumbfounded look. i stifle a laugh. "what?" he returns to his choleric tone.

"guess it's a good thing that relationship ended," i murmur.

"what's your deal? are you like a psychic or do you just find solace in meddling in other people's business?" he spits as the veins protrude on his forehead.

"the latter," i reply with an amused smirk that makes his jaw clench.

"probably why you read all those books," he gestures to the two paperbacks resting in front of me. "you can't get a real guy to even look at you so you just pretend. doesn't surprise me." he speaks lowly through gritted teeth.

"you just proved my point," i mutter again

"what point?" my eyes travel to the cuts and bruises littered on his hands. i can't help but wonder how they got there. did he get in a fight? based on his 'intense' personality, that wouldn't surprise me. but who was on the other end? what was his motive? was it self defense or done purely with malicious intent? could it be the so called, tiffany, he was beating on? is that why she left him? is that why he is so distraught? on the off chance that i'm right, i should probably stop pestering this stranger. this stranger that, for some strange reason, i feel obligated to wake up from this heady state of condescension. but, on what planet would i take my own advice.

"that you are utterly intolerable." at this point, our eyes haven't left each others. i can see the hatred in his eyes. but i know the only reason he feels the need to hate me is because i know the one thing he doesn't want anyone else to know. he has feelings. and right now they pretty much consist of one thing. pain. 

"you don't even know me!" i know now that I'm playing with fire. that only excites me more. 

"i don't need to. it takes one look to see who you are. you're a guy who's trying to hide the fact that he's human. no one ever taught you how to handle shit so you just let your fists do the talking. you treat every one like their secondary, but deep down you're just trying to prove to god knows who that you are worthy. i imagine it has something to do with a negligent father who gave you trust issues. and the only way you know how to avoid your pain is by inflicting it on others. but god forbid you get a moment alone with your own thoughts so you need someone there to distract you. most likely some credulous hussy who is 80% silicon. but because you're used to treating women like toys, you tried your luck with this 'tiffany' and she turned out to be just as much of a narcissistic imbecile as you. and although you'd deny it, being on the hard end of rejection actually hurt you. and now you're here having a moment of clarity before continuing your cycle of abusing substances and humans that will eventually damage exactly no one but yourself. yeah, sure, they'll be people like me to simply act as an alarm clock. but, in the end, the only person that can fix you is you. and i doubt that's gonna happen anytime soon."

he is once again left speechless, which i find beyond entertaining. but his expression quickly changes to a venomous glare. 

"you're wrong," he hisses with his face merely inches from mine in attempt to scare me. 

"and you're hand is fractured." i lean in closer while looking down at the discoloration spreading past his knuckles. 

"what no it's n-" he quickly releases a husky groan as i press my elbow onto his calloused hand. it becomes even harder for me not to laugh as he looks at me in shock. 

"what the fuck is wrong with you?! you fucking sadist!" i watch as the words leave his mouth. something about this guy makes my chest feel heavier. as if i'm fighting to keep my heart intact with my body. i gaze into his brown eyes. their warm, as oppose to the rest of him. i notice that he's stopped wincing, and is now staring at me with a blank expression. i feel like i should leave, but just the thought of that makes me whimper. i wanna stay in this seat and gaze into his eyes. for hours. i slowly place my hand on top of his. i see his body shudder reluctantly but ease into my touch. i smile gently and grab my bag.

before getting up to leave, i meet his gentle view for the last time and speak softly.

"good luck, brown eyes."