Please Take Me Home

All Of This

It scared Michael shitless, every time he went and fought on a Friday night. Michael hated the adrenaline that raced in his veins. He hated the power each successful blow hit gave him. He hated the feeling it gave him. But oh how he craved it.

He loved it. It was something he needed and every Friday night he went, the more power he gained and the more he craved for it afterwards.

It was nearly dancing, in a way. One wrong move could leave a series of contusions on the skin. 

Michael knew he should have taken this more seriously and he knew how stupid it was, but it was a release, and a good one at that.

Shirts off, shoes off, those were some of the rules and as much as Michael would like for the former to not happen, he really didn’t have that much of a say in it.

He was still considered sort of new, at the place but no one really cared anymore. There had been a few new people but Michael really didn't bother getting to know any of them. It wasn't a place to make friends.

In fact, if Michael were to see someone from the club in a normal public setting, Michael didn't know what he would do. Surly, he wouldn't react too much, because really, waving a hello was last on his list.

Anyway, it was Michael’s turn and he was looking forward to getting this over and done with, with as little bruising as possible. 

The first couple of moves were always a little awkward because Michael had discovered that analysing what type of fighter is opponent was, always helped him in the end. So Michael let his opponent set the pace. He still couldn’t see the face of his opponent but he knew something wasn't quite right. The way his opponent held himself and the way they looked at Michael, even though Michael wouldn't see their eyes. 

Michael dodged the first few throws that were sent his way and laid purchase when the person in front of him hesitated while trying to figure out what to do next. His knuckles hurt but that was a given really. It was a reminder of how fucked up he was and how he had to hurt himself to keep his emotions in bay.

Michael stepped back and he could see some of the streetlight come into view and that blinded him for a second. Trying to shake away the light that impaired his vision, Michael stepped backwards again but nearly tripped due to his disorientation. Michael lost his opponent and he looked around franticly, wanting to put his guard up again but that went crashing down when Michael was taken by surprise and struck from his other side.

Fuck, he almost cursed out loud but refrained himself and sprung into action, sensing that the person be was fighting wasn't nearly done with taking advantage of him. Michael, if he was in his right mind, probably wouldn't have brought both of his arms to cover his face, but he would much rather a chest full of bruises than have Luke worry over the bruises on his face.

He took what was given to him and the new guy he was fighting didn't stop until he had Michael on the ground and was busy kicking him in the ribs. Michael curled in on himself and he knew this was going to get real bad if he didn't get the person to stop soon.

“Stop.” He croaked, his own voice sounding unfamiliar from his own ears. “Stop.”