The rhythmic thud of fists against leather echoed through the dimly lit gym, the scent of sweat and chalk thick in the air. You and Vince stood side by side, fists wrapped, muscles taut, each striking your own heavy bag with relentless force. The raw energy between you crackled like a live wire—two warriors lost in the rhythm of the fight.

Sweat dripped from your temples, trailing down your bare torsos, but neither of you slowed. The world outside didn’t exist here—just the two of you, breathing in sync, muscles burning, bodies moving in perfect, brutal harmony.

Vince smirked between punches, short crimson hair damp with sweat. “Getting tired already, tough guy?” he teased, his voice rough with exertion.

You exhaled sharply, landing a cross that made your bag shudder. “You wish. Just giving you a chance to catch up.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, rolling his shoulders before delivering a rapid series of strikes. The impact rippled through the gym. “Hah! Cute. But we both know I hit harder.”

You scoffed, stepping closer to your bag. “That so?” You threw a devastating hook, the heavy bag groaning under the force. “Care to test that theory?”

Vince arched a brow, hands on his hips, chest rising and falling with each breath. “You really wanna go there?” He tapped his wrapped fists together, that familiar glint in his eye.

You shrugged, smirking. “Always.”

For a moment, there was only silence, the challenge hanging between you like an unspoken promise. Then, with a sudden burst of laughter, Vince shook his head and delivered one last, bone-rattling punch to his bag.

“Alright, hotshot,” he said, rolling out his wrists. “Finish up, and then I’m kicking your ass in the ring.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking out your hands before returning to your stance. “Can’t wait.”

And just like that, the rhythm resumed—two fighters, two hearts, moving as one.