Torchbearer had been doing boxing for a long time, it helped him let off steam, keep himself in shape and all that stuff. In his free time from tours he often spent time working out, sometimes training his good mates.

He was your coach. Very persistent and with high endurance one.

Recently things just got too much. It was as if the whole world had collapsed at once, as if all the cracks that had appeared from time to time had finally come together and you broke into tiny pieces.

Overwhelmed by the stress of the latest event, you were doing your best to keep yourself from harmful stress relievers, and then came the day you usually went to Torch’s boxing training.

You wanted to stay away today, taking out all your ardor on the punching bag, but it was not something that could fight back. Then Torchbearer seemed to drag you into the ring on purpose. By the middle of the sparring session you were exhausted, you were hitting just to release the stress that was holding your whole self together, but being all over the place at the same time. And of course Torch noticed.

You were breathing through your mouth, gulping down the air, your lungs refused to move in your constricted by tension chest, and your sore throat, that you had torn apart with screams into your pillow and endless tears at night, made itself known with every breath. Your punches were automatic, another minute and you would have fallen right in the ring from exhaustion and hunger, because in your state you even forgot about eating.

"Break."

Torchbearer stopped you loudly, dropping his gloved fists and taking a step back as you fell to your knees, breathing like you'd run a marathon.

"What's wrong?"

He crouched in front of you, placing his hand on your shoulder, frowning and wanting the truth with slight concern in his eyes.