I hang up the phone and breathe out a sigh. Of relief or frustration, I'm not sure. Moony climbs onto my lap after struggling for minutes to climb up the couch, nudging my hand with her head. Giving in, I pet her for a bit as I think about the situation, trying to make sense of how I feel about it.
On one hand, I'm relieved. Aaron has been deemed fit for transplant, and he's given up quite easily on dancing, something he didn't realize was making him unhappy and hurting him. He's giving himself a chance to heal, and helping his sister in the process. He wouldn't be the same person if he lost her without doing everything in his power to stop it.
On the other hand, the person I spend the most time with other than Reed, the person I've grown to care about, is going through an operation of sorts, the kind that carries risk for his health and his life. Something could happen to him that can't be reversed, and though it's not for nothing, it's not an essential procedure for him. That's my selfish way of thinking about it at least.
I sigh again, seemingly full of them, and proceed to roll my eyes at myself. My only witness to this turmoil is Moony, the blue pitbull puppy, and my roommate for the foreseeable future. Deciding to take my frustration and channel it into something productive, I change my clothes and make my way to the gym, wrapping my hands the second I swing my leg over my bike and step off, bag over my shoulders, and helmet placed on the seat.
"Welcome back boss," I'm greeted the second I approach the ring, one fighter I've never seen before is already inside with my favorite trainer. As a former UFC champion, it was hard to recruit Miguel until he met me personally and the two of us found a mutual friendship of sorts in each other. We slept together once before realizing we'd be better off as business partners and he's now happily engaged.
The fighter in the ring eyes me up in my thick sports bra and black muay tai shorts, hair pulled back in two braids tight to my head. I didn't bother wearing any protective gear on the way over because of the short distance, my frustration adding to that decision.
"Don't fucking look at me unless you want me to climb up there and embarrass your ass in the ring," I say as I move past the two, finishing wrapping up my hands and heading to the staff room.
"I'd be happy to show you the way around the ring, Princess. All you gotta do is ask," He calls out after me and I don't give him the satisfaction of causing me to stop, let alone even acknowledging that I'd heard him. I'll kick his ass when I'm good and ready.
After throwing my bag into my locker and changing from boots to boxing shoes, I take only my gloves and my water bottle with me back to the ring where the fighter is showcasing his almost fast, almost decent technique against his trainer. They aren't even sparring and he's still trying to show off. I smile the moment his eyes stray to me and Miguel goes on the offense, using his pads to slap the guy in the face for pulling focus.
"Ryan! If you can't keep your eyes off of her when she's outside the ring, what do you think is going to happen when she's in it with you?" Miguel asks him, but the cocky fighter seems to have an inflated sense of skill and just by looking at him, I know I can knock him down a peg or two without breaking much of a sweat. He's scrawny anyway.
"She's...petite," He says in response, giving me a smile that makes my eyes roll and a blank expression takes over my face. I don't bother pretending the like the dude, and as Miguel holds the ropes open for me, I give the guy a glare that makes him blink in surprise.
"No airhead act for this one?" Miguel asks me, stepping out and standing in the corner. He helps me with one glove while I tighten the other with my teeth, never taking my eyes off of my opponent. Ryan seems a little unnerved and I get a sick sense of satisfaction at the thought.
"Nah, I want him to see it coming," I say to Miguel but my eye contact with Ryan never wavers. We touch gloves and the smirk is back on his face. Underestimating me isn't going to be a good look. Especially when a few other fighters who have been around a while know exactly how this is going to go. Money is exchanged out of the corner of my eye but Ryan's are only on mine.
"Alright Princess, first—" I cut off Ryan's unprompted lesson for me by slamming my fist into his face before he even has the chance to dodge, let alone finish his sentence. I didn't hit him hard enough to make his nose bleed, aiming more for his cheek.
The wide-eyed look of shock is what I was really aiming for. He's not on alert, and this is where the real fun begins. His cocky smirk is nowhere to be found and I prefer it that way. We spar, and he even lands a few hits on me, no longer underestimating me, but unfortunately, my skills seem to have backfired because by the time Miguel tells him he's done taking hits from me, respect and admiration are all that can be found in his eyes.
The latter isn't a problem, especially if he's to continue training in my gym, but the former is cause for concern with me. I ignore what he says to me next, my attention glued to the silhouette standing at the entrance door. Highlighted by the sunlight pouring in from outside, the relative darkness of the gym contrasts against the natural halo encapsulating Aaron's entire being. Fitting.
"Thought that I would find you here," His voice carries across the room, and though we aren't far, I immediately work to close the distance with my strides, not stopping until I'm in his space and he's in mine. He doesn't reach out for me but I can tell that he wants to, his large hand flexing and contracting at his side. My real-life Mr. Darcy.
He looks like he has something more to say but has forgotten how to speak. "Looking for me, then?" He nods but doesn't elaborate. "Well, you've already had a tour, and I've only had one session so far..." I trail off, growing slightly frustrated. I don't particularly want Aaron to watch me blow off steam, especially when he's aligned with the source of it, and too observant when it comes to me.
"Right. I tried calling. I shouldn't have just shown up," He says so softly and one look at his face has my anger fading away, replaced with something much softer. This time, it's me who reaches for his hand, pulling it between us and grabbing his attention.
I shake my head. "Nevermind, I'm gonna go clean up real quick and we can grab something to eat? I'm starving," I say and he purses his lips but nods.
"I'm sorry to—"
"None of that, you're doing me a favor," I tell him and mean it this time. Hitting someone, gloves or not, wouldn't have absolved me of the guilt I feel, but one look from Aaron makes me feel like it's all worth it; allows me to live with it a little longer.
After showering off quickly, worried he might wander off if I take too long, I grab the spare change of shorts and a tank top that I put in my locker, forgoing the sports bra in favor of remaining clean and sweat-free post-shower. My pierced nipples make it so that they can always be seen if I go sans bra, but if they make him uncomfortable after he'd already seen them face to face, that's his problem to deal with.
His eyes do dart down when I walk out, but they dart back up to my face and remain there respectfully without straying again. I commend his determination, not a thing in the world can tear my eyes away from a pair of pierced nipples, clothed, or unclothed.
We walk with our hands brushing each other's on the sidewalk, continuing until I see a decent-looking Indian restaurant and we both agree to stop and get takeout from there.
Without a complaint, he climbs onto the back of my bike with the takeout in one hand, and his helmet in the other. He brought his helmet along, in hopes of finding me and I smile at that thought.
Moony doesn't piss all over the floor when we get home, which is a big improvement and I reward her with a treat. Aaron says hi to her while I grab plates from the kitchen and set the food up on the counter. We dish it out before taking a seat. I'm patiently waiting for him to bring up whatever it is that's on his mind, but he sits in silence, not touching his food but not talking either.
"As you know, our hospital date is coming up," He starts and I nod, keeping my mouth shut so as to not give him any reason to stop his explanation. "Obviously I'm doing it. Happily. But it's slightly nerve-wracking. All the what-ifs in my head, telling me that life is short and I might not come out of it the same, though the chances are likely that I'll be fine—"
"Aaron," I interrupt his rambling, giving him a small smile and putting my hand on his arm in what I hope is an encouraging move.
"Right. Sorry." He takes a breath. "What I'm trying to say is that I don't want to go into surgery with any regrets, and I would regret not telling you that I'm falling in love with you. Hard and fast. Unrealistically, but it feels true to me. And I want you to be there with me, my familiar face," He breathes. "I know it's a lot to ask..."
My breathing quickens as I think about it. "I want that too. To be there," Is what I settle on, choosing to acknowledge only his last statement. He doesn't seem to mind, pulling me to him in a hug and I relax the second I'm in his arms. He's both the source of my anxiety and the soothing warmth that settles it.
And I'm his familiar face. The person he chooses to love.