Fight Me ||Zayn Malik au

Chapter Eleven

(NIAM FLUFF at Very end!)

PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END OF THIS PLEASE? LOOK AT THE MEDIA! WHY AM I STILL YELLING? -Meg

Niall's POV

'Jesus it's freezing out here, when in hell did it get this cold?' I muttered to myself as I trudged down the sidewalk toward Lowes' Gym. After being cooped up in my house and or school for the last six months I am pretty excited to get back into society. I rubbed at my wrists self-consciously, as if the casts would reappear and I should be looking over my shoulder to see if anyone from the League was around.

Cause that would be disastrous.

If anyone found out I had been hurt all this time they would know that I had someone standing in for me. And if they found out that it was Heather, well let's just say she and I would be leaving New York fairly quickly. The whole arrangement made me a little sick to think about, I can't believe I had been vain enough to ask my best friend since nursery school to get her ass beat by guys three times her size and only get to keep half the money she makes. I really am the definition of an Irish ass hole.

As much as it bothers me to think about it, the whole thing worked out flawlessly, save the last fight but no harm no foul. Now that my casts are off and my doctors have released me to start boxing again I can feel the old rush I felt fighting in the league start to return. I want to be back in there as soon as possible, to be kicking everyone's areses across the board but I know that I need to build up my strength again. While I was running to maintain my stamina I wasn't able to lift or box or anything with the damned casts on my hands. Which, bare in mind, did nothing but keep me from using my hands too much to further damage the knuckles, it didn't keep them set or anything like casts do with like broken legs and what not.

Lowe's Gym started to rise in the distance and I felt nostalgia pull me under; this gym was where I grew up. My mum had brought me here when I was six so I could learn how to box and I can remember walking in, with my hand tucked tightly into my mum's, and seeing a pretty little girl with really long braids spinning around on one of the work out mats. She was dancing to what I now know to be Mozart but at the time it had just been boring to me so while my mum and the owner, Mr. Lowes, talked I walked over and shut her music off.

"Hey!" the girl had yelled at me before winding up and slapping me in the face. I remember telling her that real fighters don't slap and the next time I showed up for my boxing lesson, she was my partner. Heather had always wanted to be a dancer, and I know she only joined boxing all those years ago to spite me but I don't think she planned on falling in love with the sport as much as she did. I don't know what to do after December if she doesn't get accepted to that dance school in California. Not that I want my best friend to leave, I will miss her fiercely and probably try and go to see her as much as possible but I know that it would be hard to get out there once. I am just a coward, I know I am, because I can't look my best friend in the eye and tell her that I want my job back. I had asked her to take it, she should realize that I will want it back once I am healed but she has become so damn enamored by the thrill of it all that I don't know if she would give it back if she stays. She can't join the league with her own fake identity, too many people will notice she fights just like Heath-The-Beast did and that will cause a lot of problems. So, ultimately, I will be looking the girl I was in love with for three years in the eyes and taking one of the things she loves away from her.

If she doesn't get accepted to LA.

I think she will, Heather is a great dancer while I have two left feet, as proof by me tripping and falling on my face upon entering the gym. A deep bark of a laugh caught me off guard and I glanced up to see none other than Curtis Lowes leaning over me with a bright smile plastered on his pretty little face.