Thomas Brodie Sangster- Imagines and Preferences

P•20: (DPS) He's a boxer [2]

Neither of them moved.

The bell had rung and neither of them moved.

The crowd let off a soft roar. Thomas' face is tense, frown lines coursed through his features, and annoyance practically radiated off of him.
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"C'mon Sangster! Make the first move!" August taunted.

Thomas' was practically shaking with rage. He wanted to beat August to a pulp. Or at least until he was sure he could barely breathe, but he knew better. His coach always taught him to let his opponent make the first move. It always gave him the upper hand in the fight, and the best part was, was that no other fighter picked up on it. They were too busy trying to end the fight instead of use their heads. Well, they do use their heads, but to fight, not to think.

"What? You gonna sit there and let me talk about ya girl? What kind of a man are ya?"

Thomas' hands ached. Not for warmth, or to be held, but to beat the living hell out of August "Fire Fist" Reins.

"If I can talk about her, I might as well take her too! Have my way with her! You obviously don't care about her enough to defend her!" August laughed.

That was it for Thomas. He sprinted towards August, his gloved fists ready.
Thomas swung at August putting all of his force into this one blow. He missed. August dodged his attack and whirled around, kicking Thomas in the back which sent him flying to the binds of the ring. You gasped. Moments later August was straddling Thomas, punching him mercilessly.

"C'mon Tommy, don't be so selfish! I promise I'll give her back, maybe not in the same condition though-"

Thomas wrapped his legs around August's torso and flipped them both over, putting Thomas on top. Thomas threw a punch to August's jaw. He heard a loud justifying, crack. August cried out in pain and anger. Thomas send a couple more blows to his face, hitting his nose and both eyes on the way. August was a bloody mess. Both of his eyes were swollen and black. His nose was broken and pouring out generous amounts of blood and other fluids. Thomas managed to knock out two of his teeth as an added bonus.
The crowd roared. Bettors passed around wads of money, some groaning and others cheering. Once the bell rang, signaling the fight was over, Thomas stood up, his head lowered, and headed to the locker rooms. August didn't get up. After a few moments some bettors ran to the ring to see what was wrong with him, only to find him unresponsive. His pulse was checked, and he was carried out of the ring by a few of his fans and some bettors. You quickly grabbed your stuff and headed to the locker rooms. The locker rooms consisted of twelve steel lockers, all rowed together, sitting against both of the beige walls in the room. There were two wooden benches in the center of the room right next to a water fountain. You slowly walked in. Thomas was sitting on a bench, his head lowered. His arms were resting against his knees, sweat dripping from all over his exposed body parts. A towel was strung over his neck. You stood there at the door and leaned against it. Taking in his figure.

"Are you gonna walk in or stay standing there all night?" He said, his head still lowered.

You slowly walked in and sat next to him. There was a moment of tense silence. You both knew the topic at hand. He went too far.

"Tommy." You whispered and turned to face him.

He stayed in the same position, facing the ground, not daring to look up at you.

"Tommy." You said.

He didn't respond.

"Thomas." You said sternly. "Look at me."

He sighed and raised his head to face you. You almost gasped at the sight of his face. Red welts ran down the side of his face. A large cut fell on his collarbone that was bleeding, thankfully not profoundly.

"Not to pretty right?" He joked, giving you a small grin.
"Thomas." You sighed, regaining your previous composure.

Thomas' sheepish expression fell as he could tell what you were about to talk about next.

"No." He said, his expression tense and dark. "We aren't talking about this."

"And why not?" You questioned.
"Because Y/n, there's not much to talk about!"
"Of course there is!" You retorted.
"Bloody hell Thomas you almost killed him!"
He rose from his seat and began pacing the floors of the locker room.
"What do ya expect! He was askin' for it Y/n!" Thomas argued, throwing up his arms in exasperation.

"I don't care if he was! You know your limits Thomas! Every fighter does! You shouldn't have taken it that far. What got you to any-"

He stopped pacing and faced you.
"You."
Your eyes widened and you rose from your seat.
"He was saying all these damn things Y/n!" He yelled.
"How was I suppose to ignore them?"
"You just do." You state and begin to walk out of the locker room.
"Don't you walk away Y/n!" He roared, grabbing your arm.
You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him.
"You started this argument, now let's finish it."
"Fine then." You ripped your arm out of his grasp.

"Y/n I care about you ok?" He whispered.
"I just couldn't handle him badgering on about ya... About how he could treat you better."
You sat back down next to him on the wooden bench.
"If he could treat me better." You said, your voice shaky.
"Wouldn't I have already left to go be with him?"

His face dropped.
Y/n-"
You cleared your throat.
"Either way. You shouldn't have done that. I don't care if it was in my honor or anything."
He sighed and began pacing again, scratching the back of his neck, annoyed.
"Well I don't regret doing the damn deed."
"So what?" You grabbed his arm this time, and he whirled around. "You're gonna go around, beating up everyone who makes a comment about me? Almost killing them? You can't just do that Thomas!"
He ripped his arm away. He then pulled them back and sent them forward, sending you stumbling back and over the bench. You landed on the ground. You groaned and pulled back the tears that were pooling in your eyes. You rubbed the back of your head and rose.

"You're my girlfriend Y/n. I don't care who it is. I'll defend you and protect you. I don't care what it costs." His expression was stern. He stood there, his arms folded over his chest.

"Well then. If you're going to go around beating people senseless because of me. Maybe I shouldn't be your girlfriend." You yelled.

He stumbled back, as if he had been pushed like you had.

"Y/n..."
You walked towards the exit, a stony expression upon your face. On the inside you were in a pool of tears, yet you managed to compose yourself.

He grabbed your arm again, and you slightly craned your head towards him. His eyes were pleading, his head shaking.

"Y/n please don't do this.."

You ripped your arm away from his grasp. "Don't you dare touch me." You whispered.

You then walked out of the locker room. Not daring to look back at him and see the best four years of your life easily falling down like the sweat on his face.

[A/N: Sorry Y'all, no part 3.]