Silent Scars

CHAPTER 73

The hard wooden bench wasn't made for sleeping, and Kendric was pretty sure his spine had just filed an official complaint.

He groaned, stretching his arms high above his head, then blinked as morning light seeped in through the narrow hallway window.

The soft hum of machines behind the hospital walls had blended into his dreams, dreams that made no sense now but involved a raccoon wearing sunglasses.

He rubbed his eyes, sat up, and glanced to his right.

Domain was fast asleep, sitting with his back against the wall, head tilted sideways like gravity had finally won.

His mouth was slightly open, arms folded, and his neck was bent at an angle that made Kendric wince just looking at it.

Without mercy, Kendric reached out and shoved Domain's forehead lightly.

"Aishh...."

Domain groaned in his sleep, flinching as his head smacked back against the wall.

Kendric grinned.

"It's morning, big brother. Get up and wash your face before someone mistakes you for a corpse."

Domain opened one eye, just barely.

"Can you get me a coffee first?"

Kendric scoffed.

"I didn't even wash my face yet, you lazy..."

"I'll let you borrow my vintage signed boxing gloves."

Kendric froze.

His eyes slowly widened.

"The red ones!?"

Domain raised an eyebrow lazily.

"Mm-hmm."

"I'll be back in five minutes, sir!"

Kendric saluted like a soldier and shot off down the corridor toward the cafeteria, nearly slipping on the freshly mopped floor.

Domain smirked as Kendric disappeared down the hallway like a rocket.

The coffee in the hospital cafeteria tasted like cardboard, but Domain liked it. Said it was "humble."

Kendric personally thought that was just Domain's excuse for having the tastebuds of a tree.

Kendric power walked back from the cafeteria, clutching the steaming cup like they were liquid gold.

His hair was a mess, one shoe slightly untied, and the sleepy early morning hospital lights weren't doing him any favors, but he was victorious.

In his head, he was already imagining it Domain, touched by the gesture, maybe even handing over the gloves with that rare proud brother nod.

The red gloves.

The legendary ones.

The signed red gloves.

By Cassian DeVolk.

The underground champ.

The one they used to sneak out to watch when Kendric was barely thirteen. The same guy who once broke a man's ribs with a jab and winked at the camera after.

Their mutual idol.

Domain said he'd give me those for my birthday, Kendric thought suddenly, slowing to a halt.

The mental image came fast: Domain, grinning, holding the gloves up like a sacred artifact.

"This will be your birthday gift for this year!!"