Part of the Stories series. Like shorts, these are generally done by request and have some personification of the requester in the story. Unlike shorts, these are longer (6k+ words) and move descriptive and world building.
The late afternoon sun hung low, casting molten gold across the backyard. The weathered fence circling the patchy grass looked less like suburban privacy and more like the battered walls of a makeshift arena. No crowd. No referee. Not really needed. Just the dull thud of gloves on flesh, the sharp snap of breath between clenched teeth, and the steady rhythm of two men who’d been trading leather long enough to wear the fight on their bodies. Sweat ran in rivulets, darkening patches of dirt where it fell. Bruises bloomed in purple and red along ribs and shoulders. A thin line of blood traced the edge of a mouth, a raw badge of how much fun they were having. This wasn’t about points or belts. This was about power. About pushing past pain until it turned into something addictive.
Kevin’s chest heaved, the black-ink spirals across it shifting with each breath, the design alive with motion. Sweat clung stubbornly to the wiry hair on his torso, glistening like molten glass in the sunlight. His bright green hair, matted, damp, still caught the light like a flare every time he moved. He cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, and grinned through split lips, eyes locked on Rena. Rena stood lighter on his feet, bouncing, his smooth skin slick with sweat that caught the gold of the sun. His curls, damp and unruly, clung to his forehead. His jaw was tight, his breathing steady but charged, gloves already up, not out of caution, but instinct. He shifted with the grace of a streetwise dancer, legs alive with energy, waiting for the next beat in this bruising rhythm they were writing together.
They didn’t speak. They just circled.
The silence between them shattered when Kevin lunged again, rejoining the battle like it was brand new. The bigger man came in like a freight train, his shadow swallowing the space between them as his heavy left cut through the air toward Rena’s head. Rena slipped under it with a quick drop of his shoulders, feeling the wind off Kevin’s glove brush past his curls. Before Kevin could pull back, Rena drove a sharp jab into his ribs, quick, precise, just enough to sting. Kevin’s grunt was low and short, but it didn’t slow him. He stepped back only to surge forward again, answering with a whipping hook that clipped the side of Rena’s jaw. Rena’s head snapped to the side, but his feet stayed planted. He countered immediately, two rapid shots to Kevin’s midsection, the thud of leather on muscle ringing in the warm air, followed by a straight right to the shoulder that forced Kevin to pivot. Kevin answered with a tight uppercut aimed for the body, forcing Rena to twist away, only to take a glancing left across the cheek. Gloves smacked against ribs, arms, and jawlines in a blur, no pause, no quarter. Kevin drove a body shot into Rena’s side, feeling the impact vibrate through his knuckles, while Rena snapped his head back with a crisp left cross. The hits weren’t just traded, they were thrown like challenges, daring the other to plant their feet and take it. The backyard echoed with the rhythm of it, leather, breath, footsteps on dry grass. Both men were marked, sweating, grinning through split lips, and still moving like the fight had only just begun.
A breath...
Then any distance was lost without a word, the space between them collapsing in a blur of fists and grit. Kevin’s right hook slammed into Rena’s guard, the force rattling down his arms, but Rena didn’t give ground, he came right back with a quick one-two that hammered into Kevin’s chest, the thuds echoing off the fence. Kevin snarled, dipping low and driving a sledgehammer body shot into Rena’s side. The impact made Rena’s breath catch, shaken of course but bore it, firing an overhand left that smacked against the side of Kevin’s head. Kevin’s bright green hair whipped with the blow, sweat flying, but his eyes stayed locked in. They were hitting everywhere, ribs, shoulders, cheekbones, the meaty edges of biceps, each punch leaving another bruise to bloom under the skin. Kevin shoved forward, crowding Rena, peppering him with hooks to the body before snapping an uppercut toward his chin. Rena’s head jolted back, but he turned with it, taking the sting and planting his feet. Then Rena unleashed, three rapid jabs to the face, forcing Kevin’s guard high, followed by a digging shot to the gut that landed deep. Kevin grunted but grinned through it, his sweat slick chest heaving. He stepped right into Rena’s space, delivering a punishing hook to the ribs that made Rena’s torso twist. The rhythm was relentless, Kevin’s heavy power shots thundering in, Rena’s fast, snapping strikes answering just as quick. Their gloves smacked and thudded, the sound as raw as the fight itself. Both men’s skin was streaked with sweat and dotted with red where gloves had split skin, but neither slowed, neither backed down. Kevin caught Rena with a straight right to the mouth, rocking his head back, but Rena just licked the blood from his lip and answered with a hook that clipped Kevin’s jaw. For a heartbeat, they both stood there, chest to chest, gloves low, breathing hard through grins, then the next barrage began, fists whipping up from the ground, cracking against bone and muscle in a savage, beautiful rhythm.
Another Breath...
Kevin came in fast, maybe to damn fast, with a straight right like a battering ram. Rena slipped to the side, answering with a hook to the body that landed solid, his glove sinking deep into muscle. Kevin grunted but didn’t stop, he swung low with a looping shot that pounded into Rena’s ribs on the opposite side, making the smaller man’s torso shake. Rena snapped a jab to Kevin’s cheek, then another, the leather popping against skin. Kevin’s head turned with the second, but his left arm was already moving, catching Rena across the jaw with a hook that shook his legs for half a second. They stayed close, trading like neither had ever heard of defense. Like seriously, what is guard between friends anyway? Kevin’s glove cracked against Rena’s temple; Rena’s right hand dug into Kevin’s gut, twisting him at the waist. The air between them smelled like sweat and dust, each breath sharp and hot. Rena moved inside Kevin’s longer reach, pounding two quick shots into his midsection before Kevin trapped his gloves and shoved him back with his shoulder. Kevin used the space to send a heavy right into Rena’s chest, the impact thudding like a sledge into a wall. Rena’s eyes lit up, pain but not surrender, he fired back with a blistering combination, head and body, leather smacking in rapid bursts. Kevin’s guard caught some, but enough got through to sting. Kevin answered with a thundering uppercut to the solar plexus, forcing a hard exhale from Rena, then followed with a hook to the side of the head that snapped sweat into the air.
The two of them moved like they were built for this, wanted this. Each punch felt heavier than the last, but neither man’s grin faded. Gloves hit flesh again and again, the sound mixing with sharp exhales and the scrape of feet shifting in the dry grass. By now, their bodies were even more flushed, muscles gleaming with even more sweat, the bruises spreading like dark paint under the skin. Every mark was a trophy. Every hit an invitation for more.
Nice,” Kevin muttered.
Rena gave a small grin, gloves twitching as he bounced on his toes.
“You’ll owe me a beer if I break that tattoo.”
Kevin answered with a sharp right hook that barely missed Rena’s jaw. The leaner man leaned out, rolled his body, and caught Kevin off-guard with a low uppercut, right into his gut. Kevin’s body folded slightly with the impact, but he stayed up, eyes flashing.
Kevin caught Rena with a short jab to the chest.. Rena retaliated with a side hook to Kevin’s side, smack. Each punch echoed in the open air, their footwork scuffing the dry ground. Neither of them held back, but neither of them aimed to hurt, not yet. This was the warm-up. A test of reactions, instincts, how much weight each could carry and still swing back. Kevin wiped a forearm across his brow, chest heaving, and eyes sharp. But Rena? Rena wasn’t slowing down. If anything, he looked like he was just getting started. His curls clung to his forehead, soaked with sweat, and his body moved like he had something to prove, like something inside him had snapped loose and needed out.
He came in fast. No warning. No buildup.
Kevin stepped forward, looking to crowd Rena into the fence, gloves tight, head moving. He sent out a probing jab, just enough to keep Rena honest. But Rena wasn’t biting. He dipped low, rolled under Kevin’s left, and slipped right past the bigger man’s guard.
Then came the shot.
Rena’s right hook landed flush against Kevin’s temple, a perfect whip of shoulder and hip. The crack of leather on skull was sharp, the kind of sound that made you know it landed really hard. Kevin’s head snapped sideways, his green hair flashing in the sunlight before flopping back, his knees hitching under him. For a split second, the world tilted. Kevin felt the sunlight spin in his vision, his breath catching in his throat. His guard instinctively came up, but Rena was already there. A snapping left smashed into Kevin’s cheek, jolting his head the other way. Then another, and another, each one thudding with precision, the sweat flying off Kevin’s face in bright arcs. Rena’s gloves found their rhythm, rapid-fire jabs and crosses battering Kevin’s skull from every angle. Kevin’s heels skidded in the patchy grass as another right hand slammed into his jaw, forcing his mouth to clench against the jolt. He tried to sway out, but a left hook caught him high on the temple, sending a buzzing hum through his skull.
“Come on, big man!”
Rena barked between punches, his breath hot, his fists hotter. He pounded a right straight between Kevin’s gloves, snapping his head back. Kevin’s neck muscles strained to hold it, his jaw tightening as the next left smashed into the side of his face. Every shot painted the moment with motion, Kevin’s head jerking one way, then the other, eyes narrowing against the sting, mouth pulling into a grimace as his brain swam. His gloves came up late, blocking half a punch here, eating the full weight of another there. Rena didn’t stop, didn't want to. This didn't happen often and he wanted to enjoy every moment beating his brother like this. A quick double-jab tapped the nose before a crushing right hand crashed into Kevin’s jaw again, turning his head sharply. The green-haired fighter grunted, his breath rushing out, but somehow stayed on his feet, blinking hard to clear the haze. Another left, then a right. Then a left hook that forced Kevin to stagger a half step sideways, his vision blurring on the edges. The fence loomed close, but Kevin’s pride wouldn’t let him lean on it. He set his feet, dazed and battered, eyes glassy but still locked on Rena. Rena’s gloves twitched in the air, ready to keep hammering the head until either Kevin went down… or proved he could take it all.
“Damn, alright,” Kevin growled, trying to circle away.
“You okay Big Bro?” Rena asked, breathless, maybe concerned but sharp-eyed.
Kevin gave a smirk, blood in his mouth and adrenaline in his veins.
“Who me? Never better! ”
They both laughed, this fight had been brutal, marking, but this fight wasn’t over. Not even close. But for the first time, in many of their brotherly fights like this, Kevin realized he might not be the one setting the pace anymore. Rena had been riding high, fast hands, clean footwork, and sharp instincts. Kevin had been on the ropes, metaphorically and literally. Looks like little bro might finally be growing up. Kevin couldn't just over power Rena anymore. He had to think, think and fight. The smile Kevin had was bigger than the Earth itself.
Rena didn’t let the moment slip. Kevin was still blinking from that last temple shot, and Rena pressed forward like a predator smelling blood. He snapped a left jab into Kevin’s cheek, pop, then followed with a right cross that cracked against the jaw, sending Kevin’s head snapping sideways. Kevin tried to roll with it, but Rena was locked in. Another jab. Another cross. Then a hook that caught Kevin high on the temple again, forcing him to stumble a step back.
The fence was coming.
Rena kept throwing, short, sharp, punishing shots to the head. His gloves were a blur, the sound of leather smacking skin loud in the warm backyard air. Kevin’s head jerked left, right, back again, sweat flying from his hair in bright arcs. A double jab split his guard, then a crushing right hand slammed into the side of his skull. Kevin’s boots skidded in the dirt, the fence now just inches behind him. Rena smelled the corner and poured it on, a triple jab to the face, each one snapping Kevin’s head back, followed by a brutal left hook that sent him into the wooden frame with a heavy thunk. Kevin hit hard, the fence bowing under his weight before springing him forward again. How it didn't snap, neither one could guess.
Without missing a beat, Rena’s attack dropped low. He stepped in close, hips turning as he drove a heavy right into Kevin’s stomach, thud, then another, and another. The sound was deep and meaty, the kind that carried through bone. Kevin’s body jolted slightly with each impact, but his stance didn’t buckle. Rena kept working. Left hook to the side. Right uppercut into the gut. Left hook again. A quick flurry to the obliques, each shot digging in like a spade turning soil. Sweat flicked off their bodies with every movement, the air between them thick with heat and breath. Kevin let his gloves drop lower, opening himself up just enough for Rena to think he had him pinned. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his split lip, half hidden, but there. Every blow to the stomach was absorbed with a solid whump of leather against muscle. His abs tightened under each shot, taking the blows, but not falling under them. Rena hammered away, putting his hips and shoulders into every punch, trying to drive the air from Kevin’s lungs. But Kevin just took it, breathing through his nose, eyes locked on Rena, looking almost… entertained. The hits kept coming: two into the solar plexus, one under the ribs, another to the side, then a digging uppercut to the center of his gut. Kevin exhaled hard, not from pain but from control, keeping his core braced. Rena’s punches were vicious, meant to break a man in half, but Kevin was built for this. He was letting him work, letting him burn through gas. Every shot landed solid, but the bigger man just stood there, eating them with the patience of someone who knew exactly what game he was playing. The fence creaked behind him as Rena pushed closer, still unloading to the body, sweat dripping from both men, gloves thudding in a relentless beat. And through it all, Kevin’s almost-hidden smirk stayed put, waiting for the moment Rena’s arms would start to slow.
Rena doubled down, refusing to believe Kevin’s gut could take endless punishment. He shifted his weight, stepped in even closer, and drove a right hand deep into the bigger man’s midsection. Kevin’s abs flexed hard under the impact, the tattooed lines across his torso rippling with the force. Another hook to the ribs. Then a crushing left to the solar plexus. The sound was heavy, thick, leather thumping into muscle like a drumbeat. Kevin’s body rocked slightly, his breath pulling shorter now, but he stayed upright, gloves low, letting Rena work. Rena’s shoulders rolled with each shot, his whole frame committed, left hook, right uppercut, left hook again, each one digging deeper, faster, harder. Kevin’s jaw tightened, his smirk flickering for the first time, replaced by a slow, steady exhale as the blows began to sink in. A straight right to the gut made him grunt. A looping hook to the side forced his torso to twist a fraction more than before.
“C’mon!” Rena growled between shots, sweat dripping off his chin.
He hammered another pair into the ribs, then went back upstairs with a quick jab to the chest, only to drop right back down with a deep driving uppercut into the gut. Kevin’s breath hitched, a low sound escaping him, but he stepped right back into range. Rena’s gloves blurred, body-body-body, mixing hooks and uppercuts, each one thudding into flesh with brutal consistency. Kevin’s abs clenched like stone under the barrage, but now his breathing was deeper, more deliberate, his eyes narrowing behind the sweat streaking down his face. The fence groaned with every slight backward shift, Kevin’s broad frame absorbing punch after punch, until his skin glistened and the bruises across his torso had deepened in color. Still, he stood. Still, he took it. Rena poured everything into the next series, right to the gut, left to the side, right to the gut again, his gloves smacking hard, his arms burning from the effort. Kevin let the shots land, chest rising and falling, jaw set. Then, just for a split second, Rena’s pace faltered. His last hook came in slower, his shoulder dragging. Not much, but enough for Kevin to notice. Enough for the momentum to threaten shifting.
Kevin’s eyes sharpened the instant he felt Rena’s rhythm slip. The next hook to his gut landed flush, deep, meaty, enough to jolt him, but instead of folding, Kevin drove his boots into the dirt and shoved off the fence with his whole body. The impact sent Rena stumbling a half step backward, surprise flashing across his sweat-streaked face.
That hesitation cost him.
Kevin surged forward, his shoulders rolling as he launched a monster of an uppercut from the ground up. His glove crashed into Rena’s chin with a brutal CRACK, snapping his head back hard, sweat spraying in an arc. Rena’s feet lifted for a heartbeat before slapping back onto the grass, eyes blinking in sudden haze.
Kevin didn’t give him a second.
A stiff jab shot straight into Rena’s face, pop, snapping his head back again. Another followed, and another, the leather smacking sharp against bone. Kevin’s fists became pistons, pounding away at Rena’s skull. Left hook to the jaw. Right hook to the cheek. Left cross to the bridge of the nose. Each punch landed with vicious precision, turning Rena’s head one way then the other, his guard too slow to catch more than half of them. The green-haired fighter let loose now, working the head from every angle, high hooks that rattled teeth, jabs that split the guard, overhands that landed with the weight of a hammer. Rena’s curls shook with every impact, sweat and spit flying with each snap of his neck. Kevin stepped in even closer, his gloves a blur, pounding jabs, ripping hooks, mixing his shots so fast it felt like one endless hit. Rena’s feet shuffled back, his body driven by the force of each blow until the fence was at his back.
And Kevin kept going.
The sound was relentless, pop-pop-CRACK, pop-THUD, pop-pop, a savage drumbeat of leather on flesh. His breath came in sharp bursts, his tattooed chest pumping as he poured every ounce of power into the barrage, forcing Rena to eat shot after shot. The smirk was gone now, Kevin’s face was pure focus, eyes locked, fists moving with merciless intent. Rena’s only choice was to endure. But Kevin had no plans to slow down. He surged forward, no hesitation, gloves flying in a rhythm that felt primal. One punch dug into Rena’s side. Another smacked into his chest with a sound like a clap of thunder. Rena backed up fast, gloves high but loose now, his breathing hard and uneven. A left hook to the ribs. Rena groaned. A low, mean uppercut to the gut. Rena doubled slightly, teeth bared. Kevin pressed in, sweat flying off both their bodies as fists kept coming. Rena tried to circle out, tried to reset. Kevin cut him off. Another hit, square in the chest, sent Rena stumbling back into the fence. The wood rattled behind him. Kevin’s gloves dropped for a moment as he looked at him, bruised, breathing hard, still standing.
“Still with me?” Kevin asked, echoing earlier.
Rena spit to the side and grinned. “That all you got?”
Kevin chuckled. “Not even close.”
Both men backed off, circling again.
The backyard air was thick with heat and testosterone. Their chests heaved, slick with sweat, muscles red and marked. Neither man looked untouched. But now, it was Kevin who carried the weight, who had the edge.
After another breath, it began again.
The first shot landed like a battering ram, deep into the gut, folding Rena forward with a heavy WHUMP. Before he could suck in air, Kevin’s left hook slammed into the opposite side, ribs rattling under the force. Then came another. And another. Kevin planted his feet and let his hips drive each punch home, ripping into Rena’s midsection with devastating precision. Hooks to the ribs. Uppercuts into the stomach. A crushing straight right to the solar plexus that made Rena’s breath hitch in a sharp gasp. The fence groaned behind him with every impact, his body jolting against the links before springing forward into the next blow. Kevin’s fists were a storm, thud-thud-WHUMP-thud, no pause, no mercy. Rena’s gloves tried to shield his center line, but Kevin was too strong, too close. He punched around the guard, under it, through it, digging leather into muscle, bruising and breaking down everything in his path. Every shot seemed to sink deeper. A left uppercut drove into Rena’s gut so hard it lifted his heels off the ground. A right hook folded him sideways, his body slamming into the fence post. His abs were flexed tight, fighting to take the punishment, but each blow stole a little more air from his lungs.
Kevin’s eyes burned with focus, his sweat dripping onto Rena’s shoulder as he worked him over like a heavy bag that could hit back, but wasn’t hitting back now. He shifted angles, pounding the same spot three, four times in a row, then switching to the other side, forcing Rena’s body to twist with each thudding impact. A final, deep-driving uppercut to the center of the stomach made Rena grunt loud, his head snapping down toward Kevin’s shoulder. The bigger man stepped in even closer, pressing him against the hardwood with his chest, gloves still firing short, brutal shots to the gut, making the fence shudder under both of them.
The wood fence rattled with every shift of weight, its rough boards pressing into Rena’s back. His curls clung damp to his forehead, sweat running down into his eyes, making the world blur at the edges. Kevin was right in front of him, close enough that Rena could feel the heat radiating off his broad chest, close enough that the heavy scent of sweat, leather, and grass filled every breath. His head sagged forward, resting against the top of Kevin’s chest. For a second, it looked like he might be gathering himself, maybe baiting Kevin into a mistake. But Kevin didn’t hesitate.
He went back to work.
The punch drove into Rena’s stomach like a piledriver, glove sinking deep into muscle and forcing a guttural hnnnfff from him. Before the sound even faded, Kevin’s other hand buried itself into his side, ribs groaning under the blow.
Thud.
Whump.
Thud.
Each punch landed like a hammerhead against a slab of meat, the deep impacts shaking through Rena’s frame. His abs tensed hard on instinct, but the strength was bleeding out of them. Every time Kevin’s glove dug in, it stayed there for half a beat before pulling back, as if to make sure Rena felt the full weight of it. Kevin’s arms moved like a machine, tight and efficient, hooks, uppercuts, short straights, slamming into Rena’s midsection over and over. The sound was heavy and meaty, nothing sharp or flashy, just pure, brutal body work. Rena’s moans and grunts grew louder with each hit. What started as tight, controlled exhales turned into audible groans that rattled against Kevin’s chest. His head would jolt slightly with each shot, his breath knocked from him in uneven bursts.
Kevin didn’t rush. He shifted his feet, finding the perfect angle to drive his fists deeper into the same spots, over and over, each one softening Rena’s already crumbling (or crumbled) resistance. The tattooed muscles across Kevin’s torso flexed and rippled with every strike, sweat dripping down his ribs and onto Rena’s shoulder as he kept him trapped against the boards. Rena’s gloves hung low now, trying to protect his gut, but Kevin simply pushed through them or hooked around the sides. The wood fence creaked every time Rena’s body thudded into it from the force of another blow. His knees bent slightly, his back sliding down the boards an inch before Kevin’s chest pressed forward, pinning him upright to take the next shot.
The moans got deeper, more ragged, less fight, more survival. Kevin’s expression was calm, almost focused to the point of coldness, as if he knew exactly how much Rena had left and was determined to take it piece by piece. Finally, after a particularly deep uppercut to the solar plexus that seemed to drive the air right out of him, Rena’s head slumped fully forward against Kevin’s chest, his gloves barely holding themselves up.
Kevin felt the weight in Rena’s frame, slack, heavy, breathing in uneven bursts against his chest. The fight had shifted, and they both knew it. He took a half step back, caught Rena by the shoulder, and with a sharp twist of his hips, spun him away from the fence. Rena staggered on unsteady legs, and before he could even find his balance, Kevin’s glove was already driving into his gut again. The blow landed deep, folding Rena forward with a grunt. Kevin kept him moving, a hand at the back of his neck to guide him, another glove hammering low into his stomach, side, and ribs.
Whump.
Thud.
Whump.
Each shot pushed Rena another step away from the fence, the sound of their boots scraping the patchy grass underfoot. Kevin wasn’t rushing, why would he? Every punch was both punishment and a way to herd him toward the center of the yard. Rena’s feet shuffled clumsily, his body rocking from the impacts, the sweat slick muscles of his stomach trembling each time Kevin’s fist sank in. His moans came louder now, free of any effort to hide them, raw and involuntary. A hard right under the ribs made him gasp. A left to the solar plexus bent him deeper. Kevin straightened him with a shove and then dug another hook into the opposite side, forcing him forward again. By the time they reached the open space, Rena’s arms hung loose at his sides, gloves twitching but no real guard left in them. Kevin finally let go of the back of his neck and took a step back.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Kevin stopped throwing.
He planted his feet in the dry grass, chest rising and falling, sweat dripping from his chin. His gloves hung at his sides for a moment as he took in a slow breath through his nose, the heat and satisfaction of control settling into his muscles. To say both Kevin and Rena were battered would be a understatement. Their chests rose and fell like bellows, each breath a fight of its own.
Rena’s left cheek was puffed up and angry, the skin flushed a deep, uneven red that stretched up toward his temple. A thin seam of dried blood traced from the corner of his mouth where a hook had split the inside of his lip. His stomach told their own story, darkening bruises blooming across them in mottled shades of plum and rust, each part a marker of where Kevin’s gloves had dug in. The center of his stomach looked raw already, the skin tight and pink from the repeated pounding, and by tomorrow it would burn to the touch, redder than the setting sun and just as hot. Every breath came with a faint hitch, a tiny tell of how much those body shots had taken from him. Rena’s wounds were sharp and visible, the kind that told you he’d been on the receiving end of heavy, bone-shaking shots to the head and body.
Kevin wore damage no better. His stomach was the worst of it, those hard, defined abs now blotched with dull purple and deep maroon, each round stamp the size of a fist. The skin there was flushed and tender, every rise and fall of his breath pulling at the soreness. His jaw was set tight, not from defiance alone but to keep from feeling the sting in his split lip. The cut was small but deep enough to leak when he clenched his teeth. Sweat ran freely down his tattooed chest, threading through the black ink in narrow, shimmering trails. It slid over the curve of muscle and between the ridges of his abs like rain tracking down a windshield, catching the last light of the sun before dripping into the dry grass at his feet. His body was also splattered nearly everywhere with blood, some Rena's but mostly his own. It was true, Kevin’s wounds were deeper, set into muscle and core, the kind of bruising that made you feel every breath and movement long after the fight was over.
Two fighters, both marked up, both hurting, both still having a huge smile on their face.
They circled slow now. Not out of
strategy, not to get the upper hand but necessity. For all their
boasting, they were gassing out... and gassing out hard.
“Well shit” Kevin panted, eyes half-lidded but still locked on Rena.
Rena gave a half-laugh, wincing. “You look like a melted action figure.”
Kevin grinned. “You look like a noodle that tried to bench press.”
Rena added, deadpan, “Also, your chest hair looks like a sweaty swimming pool.”
Kevin blinked, then laughed, a raw, hoarse bark. “You’re dead, man.”
That was the signal.
They squared up one final time, feet planted deep into the torn-up earth. Gloves came up, muscles screamed, but they still moved. Together, they drew in deep, ragged breaths and launched their final shots.
Fists flew.
One landed clean, one point, just where it should have.
A loud THUD echoed across the backyard like a sledgehammer hitting soaked wood. One man groaned, a deep, primal moan that curled the air around them, and crumpled to the ground, gloves still half-raised. Half raised, but clearly done and defeated.
Then ...silence.
The other man stood over him, swaying slightly, chest heaving, gaze unreadable.
No celebration. No taunts.
Just stillness. And the hum of the late summer air.
It would be some time later before either could start properly moving again. The fight had taken a lot out of them, and they were in a way, sore as hell. Both still wore their gloves and trunks, opting to also not put on shirts yet. They stood shoulder to shoulder in the fading light, still sweaty, still marked, but grinning like kids who snuck out and got away with it.
Kevin raised the phone, held it high.
Click.
In the photo, both were grinning, eyes squinted, teeth showing, arms slung over each other’s shoulders. They looked like hell. And they looked like they’d never had more fun.
Neither of them ever said who won, because it didn’t matter.
Brothers have a funny way of expressing love after all.
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