Andy pulled off his red, sweaty gloves and stuffed them in his already full bag. He next pulled the head mast they must wear and similarly to the gloves, tried to put it in his bag.
He lifted the bag with little effort, thanks to his increasing muscle. He looked around in the men's locker room before getting called out.
"Fowler, May I speak with you?"
Andy look over to the source of the voice and saw his boxing instructor. Andy nodded and followed closely behind him to his office with his bag.
"I have seen some incredible improvement in your boxing."
"Thank you sir." Andy said politely.
"Why do you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Why do you box?"
"Because I wanted to get in shape."
"Negative, people trying to get in shape don't work as hard as you've been doing. They don't punch as hard. They don't sweat as much. They don't practice nearly as much as you do."
"How do you know I practice."
"Because you always come better than you were before. So why do you box?"
"Well I...I don't know."
"Well you better figure it out."
"Ok, thank you Mr.Cobban."
Andy walked out of the office to be met with his brown eyes friend he met through these classes.
"What was that all about."
"He wanted me to figure out 'why I box.'"
"That's stupid."
"Yea, Yea." Andy didn't think it was stupid. He was intrigued by the question, thinking about what the answer could be.
They young lads parted ways once they got outside, both going to their cars. Andy sat in the pleather seat, thinking about what Mr.Cobban asked.
Eventually, Andy pulled out of the parking lot and drove to his favorite cafe. It was a simple place where day drinking was normal, conversation was buzzing, and nobody gave a flying shit about why you were there.
He sat in his usual stool, and the familiar bartender gave him his usual drink. Andy was scrolling through Facebook when something on the tv caught his attention. He coughed up his coffee when a familiar face popped onto the screen.
"After three months of being in a comma, Rye Beaumont has finally woken up."
Meanwhile, Rye was sat in a hospital bed, processing what the doctors were telling him. He didn't understand what they were talking about. The last thing he remembers was waking up next to a blonde, soft skinned angel.
"Where's Andy?"
"Who?"
"Sam, Andy's the boy who used to came here all the time."
'Used to?' Thought Rye.
"Oh the little blonde boy?"
"Yea him." The once confused nurse looked at Rye with sympathetic eyes.
"I'm sorry honey, he hasn't been here in two months."
Ryes eyes swelled up but he refused to cry. He was lucky Andy came at all. Rye realized he almost killed Andy, and he probably hates him.
Once the nurses left, Rye finally allowed himself to cry. He let all the tears fall until there was no more left, and he'd finally fell asleep.
