Bare Knuckles ♛ lrh

05- sleep

With his shoes at the door, Luke walked into his apartment and over to his sofa and threw himself down. His arm immediately went to cover his eyes, he ignored the pain in his hand when he clenched his fist.

"You need to clean your hands Luke," Ashton said, stood right in front of the blonde draped on the plush sofa.

"Whatever," Luke mumbled.

"You know you have a fight soon and you need your hands healed so you can win and get the money. I don't know if you forgot but this one is a pretty big deal," Ashton explained to him.

"I always fucking win, it doesn't matter,"

"It does matter because the less you get hurt during a match the better. You know it doesn't look good walking around sporting bruises on your face,"

"Good thing I don't get hit then,"

Ashton sighed and Luke rolled his eyes behind his arm. Of course Ashton was fucking right, they both knew it. With one final huff, Luke pulled himself from the couch and started towards his bedroom. A groan left his lips as he heard footsteps following him, "What the fuck do you want?"

Ashton merely smiled, "Just wanna make sure you do it right,"

The blonde walked into his en suite and flipped the lights on. The bathroom had a large bathtub against the left wall, a large glass-door shower towards the back of the room and a marble top vanity with two sinks and a mirror on the right.

"I've been doing this for two and a half years, pretty fucking sure I know what to do," Luke grumbled. He didn't need Ashton hovering over him doing every little thing.

"We both know when you're in a pissy mood you like to half ass things because you're mad at anything and everything," Ashton said as he leaned against the doorway and watched the blonde take out his first aid kit.

"Fine watch me do it all you want, I'll still do the same thing I've done every other time,"

"Now was that so hard?" Ashton asked with a smile to the boxer as he put the kit back in the cabinet. He chuckled at the very sarcastic smile and middle finger given by the blonde. Such a happy guy, Ashton thought to himself, following him out of the bathroom and back to the living room.

Luke wasn't sure how late it was but needed to sleep so he told Ashton to leave and gave a little fuck you when Ashton called him a grandpa as he left.

Eventually before he fell asleep, Luke turned off the lights and TV Ashton turned on and went to his bedroom. He stripped out of his skinny jeans and shirt, only left in a pair of boxer briefs.

Climbing into bed, Luke nestled himself under his copious amounts of blankets of his king sized bed—his AC was always on and he liked to be as warm as he could. It wasn't long before the boxer was drifting into sleep, and whether a certain brown haired girl was on his mind or not as he fell into slumber, no one had to know.

♛

Fighting was what Luke did best. He loved the adrenaline, the rush of power he got when relentlessly punching and dodging opponents' fists. He felt like nothing could touch him when he was in the ring, dancing around in a circle waiting for a punch to be thrown, a crowd full of people booing and cheering.

He knew that sometimes the booing was for him, he was quite frankly the best boxer there. And people didn't like to admit that the tall, slightly buff, 20 year old could easily down so many bigger, stronger opponents. But Luke didn't care, the more people that wasted their money on other opponents and realized they'd always lose, the more people ended up betting on him and more money was put in his pocket.