Below The Belt

Round 10

Tyreek's POV

Boxing is all I have. It's all I've ever had. I always thought that if I didn't have boxing, I had nothing. So of course, I thought being out due to an injury would just about kill me.

I never considered that, in the event that I couldn't box, I'd have something I loved even more.

Okay, maybe love is a strong word. But I do like him. A lot. Enough for me to not want to kill myself now that I'm benched from the ring for the next few weeks.

"Have you ever broken your ribs before?" Antwon asked me, snapping me out of my thoughts. He and DeAndre were at my place to 'hang out', which translates to 'Dre thinks I'll die if I'm left alone for too long.'

I didn't mind it though. I got to see my baby and my future son as much as I wanted, and all I had to do was break several ribs. "Plenty of times, lil man. I broke one for the first time when I was around your age."

It wasn't exactly a fun story to tell, though.

"Whoa..." Antwon muttered while grabbing at his side like he could feel the pain. "I sprained my ankle once running from these kids trying to jump me, but it wasn't that bad."

"I still think you should've let me beat them lil niggas asses." DeAndre's voice carried from the kitchen where he was grabbing snacks and shit. "Five fuckin' white kids chasin' down the black boy? They need they asses beat."

I loved watching Dre be a father. He was usually so quiet and looked so serious, but when it came to Antwon he became so much softer and joyful. I got to see a playful side of him in the past week that I hadn't seen before.

"You can't beat up kids, dad." Antwon groaned like they'd had this conversation several times before.

"I beg to fuckin' differ lil nigga." I heard Dre mutter as he came back into the kitchen with an armful of snacks he'd raided from my kitchen. I watched him walk the entire way until he flopped down on the couch between me and Antwon. Fine ass nigga. "These hands is rated E for everyone when it comes to you."

This had been my life for the past week. Laying around and listening to these two bicker or laughing when Auntie and the others came by to take care of me.

Of course I missed fighting, but I wasn't too worried. My title was secure until I returned, and at least I was entertained for the time being.

And, more importantly... I've been progressing with DeAndre.

Maybe seeing me in the hospital made him want to try harder, or maybe he was just trying the way he promised he would. Either way, I've been seeing the effort.

It was simple shit, mostly. When Auntie, Bianca or Romeo couldn't, he'd change my bandages for me. He'd make sure I was eating, made sure I was taking my painkillers at the right times.

"You hurtin'?" He asked me, making me look over to see him and Antwon eating chips together.

"Ribs feel fine. My damn legs hurt though for whatever fuckin' reason." I answered truthfully. I'm sure there was some reason for the pain, but I ain't a damn doctor.

I almost jumped out of my damn skin when Dre suddenly grabbed my right leg and lifted it onto his lap. "Fuck is you doin' nigga?" I laughed, though the sound trailed off as he started massaging my leg. Oh this nigga wants me to fall in love... Bet that. "Damn, baby..." I muttered as he added more and more pressure. This nigga lowkey lucky his son is here because as good as this shits feeling I might've sucked his dick.

This was another change. The touching. He wasn't putting his hands down my pants or nothing extreme like that, but there was always a small touch somehow, somewhere. Brushing his knuckles against mine when we sat at the table together, letting his knee knock against mine when he sat beside me, and my all time favorite; Caressing my cheek with his finger. That one held a special place in my heart. It only happened when he seemed to be feeling particularly vulnerable. He'd look at me with those pretty eyes like he was beholding a true miracle of the lord. He'd hold my face in his hands like I was something fragile, a creation of glass as his eyes roamed the healing bruises and cuts on my face. And then he'd caress a finger down my cheek, almost as if wiping away an invisible tear.