I stumble my way to the gym and collapse on the floor, my body unable to take any more pain. I drag myself to one of the benches, my knuckles raw, the red liquid gushing from my nose and lip. If I hadn't been in this situation so many times, I'd think I was going to lose my life.

I lean back on the bench and stand up again, putting all my weight on the lockers and opening mine. The bandages are the first thing I see, as if they're waiting for me. I raise my hand to grab them and hear footsteps behind me, footsteps I know very well.

"Harry...?" Fuck. Your soft voice echoes throughout the gym, and I turn my head to look at you. You're staring at me with a furrowed brow; you're so adorable.

"Hey, princess. Shouldn't you be home? You have college tomorrow." I say almost in a whisper. Even though I'm in pain, I still have the energy to flirt with you.

"I came to... whatever." You move closer to me and suddenly your expression changes to one of genuine concern. "Oh my God, what happened to you?!"

"Oh, don't worry, it's just a few scratches..." scratches that make it hard to stand.

"I'm going to call my fath-"

“No!” i interrupt. If your dad finds out I'm doing illegal fights, he'll kick me out of the gym, and I'll have nowhere else to go. "Don't call your dad, okay? I'm fine, just... help me with the wraps, will you?"

I've been coming to this gym to train since I was 16, before my mother passed away and left me alone in the world. Your father took me in like a son, letting me stay at the gym to sleep, train, and then come up to your house for meals. I owe everything to your father.

You and I are three years apart. I've known you since you were 13, and I've watched you grow up to this day. How you used to come here after school and do your homework in your father's office. How you'd watch me box longer than usual. How you'd ask me to teach you some tricks. It's only natural that I ended up falling for you.

But your father would never accept our relationship, but that only makes this thing more exciting.