Box-Claws

(1) "Wussy-Pussy"

Joaquín stared at his reflection in the mirror hanging from the inside of his locker door. His eyes fell to his neck in the reflection and his jaw clenched. He couldn't cry, not now. Not when things were just starting to get a little better. His hands that were previously in the tangled mess of his long hair lowered from the bun slightly as his shoulders fell. It wasn't the same. Not that it ever would be. He was better off now anyways, but that didn't make how he was feeling any less painful.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by his phone buzzing loudly on the bench behind him and when he turned, his lock screen showed a picture of himself and another man side by side holding a small pale gray kitten. His heart clenched at the memory.

"I'll have to change that sooner or later." His mind rang loudly. He shook his thoughts away and picked up the phone, reading the notification.

"Wussy-pussy😭🤣" has sent you a message.

Joaquín chuckled and rolled his eyes. What could West possibly need, he was supposed to be getting ready for a match.

Wussy-pussy😭🤣

W: Hey, you got any free time? Can you stop by real quick?

J: Uh no. I'm prepping for a match and I'm 3 towns over. Why, wassup?

W: Shit. I got smth for you. Can you drop by afterwards?

J: What is it? Can't you just send me a photo or somethin?

W: Technically yes, but I'd rather you see it in person. Knowing you, if I try to send a photo, you'll say "Hell no bro, get that shit away from me!" Soo ye.

J: Bitch- if you know I'm not gonna like it why would you try giving it to me dumbass?

W: There's a whole story that comes with it and not enough time to type it all out.
You didn't answer my question. Can you drop in later?

J: Fine, fine, alright. This better be worth it though, you know how I feel about driving unless I absolutely have to.

W: Bet bet cya soon and good lick!

J: "Good lick" he says 🤣😭 bro I'm rolling

W: Fuck off and kiss my white ass, you know what I meant. Autocorrect bein a bitch.

J: You? White? HAH! Joke of the century. But thanks. Cya soon.

Joaquín chuckled and shook his head, tossing his phone into the locker with the rest of his stuff. He heard his phone buzz, likely West sending memes or something like he always did whenever Joaquín went to fight. The thought made his heart jumpstart like a rusty lawnmower that finally started back up again after 20 years in the shed. He closed the locker and wrapped his hands up before heading towards the door.

The only thing on his mind? Winning for West.