Bad Boy, Good Boy (boyxboy)

19 - that who punches, loves (part 1)

A/N: Hiiiii! So I defended my thesis successfully ( I got an A - ohmygaawd, right??) And here's the update. I am hoping to be able to post every week (both this and Ugly Boy) and if lucky, then more often, but let's stick to once a week. 

Happy reading x)

Devon

I keep shaking my leg, which makes it harder for me to read.

But exams need to be done, so this is what I'm doing – trying to give a fuck. It's an understatement, because I do care. I care about a lot of things which does not mean that I shouldn't complain. I complain to outlive my rage and anxiety. And it's completely okay for people to complain about me. Doesn't mean I'll change, though.

I put the book away and reach for the beer.

My attention span is only so long.

Phone keeps buzzing. Probably Gina wondering where I am and what I'm doing. She should focus on graduating and not examining my every step. I'm not spiralling into anything, I'm just exploring and figuring things out.

I've been a good boy long enough. It's time to get a taste of the opposite side.

I drink the last of my beer, grab the book, and run all the way home. This is one of the ways to calm my nerves. And when I don't feel like running, I sign up for a fight.

It's ironic that Luke who wanted to make sure everybody knew how bad he was, suddenly decided being good was better, and then he became a fighter too. All this preaching for nothing.

We're not so different after all. The bad side has a stronger pull. The kind of pull you are willing to yield to.

My parents aren't home. It's date night for them. But Gina's in her room.

I know that because the lights are on.

I take my shoes off in the corridor and then go to the fridge. It's not that I'm even that hungry. It's stress. Why or from what I don't know. I'm just trying to cope with it.

Gina comes down the stairs and slides her elbows on the counter. "Out late again," she says. It's a question presented as a statement.

"Uhuh," I mumble back and unscrew the cap on the orange juice.

"You sure you're okay?" she asks, brushing her hair behind her ear.

Gina would never understand.

She sighs. "I'm not saying that training is bad – it's not. But–" She's searching for words, which is ironic 'cause she's usually good with them. "Is it a good idea to fight?"

I've been fighting for a while now. She's been helping me cover the bruises. Sometimes make-up is useful.

"It's subjective," I say.

She winces. "You could take up boxing or something. It doesn't have to be that violent."

I nod. "Or maybe I can just keep doing what I'm doing until I've had enough."

I place all the ingredients on the counter to fix myself a sandwich, or maybe two. Gina walks round the counter and goes to wash the tomatoes.

"You don't have to do this," I say to her.

She smiles. "Yeah, I know. But I want to."

I take out two slices of bread, because I'm not good with words.

Luke

"You're so precious," I murmur into Nolan's skin.