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“This is dumb,” Type said with a heavy sigh. “Why are we doing this again?”
Arthit just fixed a look at Type before rolling his eyes and continuing to tie on his shoes. “I told you. If you’re going to keep going around hitting people because they pissed you off, you’re going to learn how to throw a punch correctly before you hurt yourself,” Arthit explained. He had been taking classes that showed him such techniques. It was supposed to help him with his anger and only be used in self defense - but he really didn’t feel like taking Type to the hospital because he broke his wrist by not punching someone correctly.
“This is dumb.”
“Yeah, yeah. So you’ve said.” Arthit rolled his eyes again as he stood up. “If you’d rather, I could let you figure it out on your own. Have fun doing anything with a broken wrist.”
Type looked for a few seconds like he was going to argue but then he gestured for Arthit to lead the way. Arthit nodded and led Type out to the gym. There were several punching bags around the room and a roped off ring in the middle of the room where a couple of guys were sparring. “Since when do you come here?” asked Type as he looked around the room. He hadn’t known Arthit was taking kickboxing lessons. Or… whatever it was they were doing.
“Remember last year when I got in that fight with the asshole who tried to beat up Ai’No?”
Type nodded as he clenched his fists. He hadn’t forgotten the way that his best friend had looked with a black eye or the way that he’d gotten hit for some stupid, incorrect reason. “Dumb bastard trying to say Ai’No is one of those… freaks.” Type grumbled under his breath but he knew that Arthit had heard him from the look that Arthit had sent his way. “Well? He was an idiot. Techno likes girls.”
“Nobody is arguing with you about that. But it’s not the point.” Arthit was not going to be the one to tell Type that Techno had gotten caught kissing a guy. He didn’t want to be the one to cause that rift in the friendship they all had. Plus, Techno asked him not to. Even if Techno didn’t care, Arthit wouldn’t have told him. It wasn’t his place to. And it wasn’t like Techno didn’t like girls. He just didn’t seem to only like girls. So, not arguing with Type’s statement wasn’t a lie. “The point is that I got caught and the guy pressed charges, saying that I hit him first. I only got out of trouble because it was the first official offense but they insisted I do something for anger management.” He gestured around them.
Type nodded a little and crossed his arms over his chest. “So, what first?”
“Over here.” Arthit led Type over to one of the corners and grabbed a hand-held mat to use. “I want you to practice with this. Hit the middle. Don’t put all your weight into it but make it real. Once you touch the mat, keep your hand there.”
Type nodded his head and uncrossed his arms. He took a moment to steady himself before he punched the mat. Arthit watched the way that Type’s hand made contact on the mat and frowned a little. “See what you’re doing with your wrist? How it’s at an angle like that?” he asked, waiting for Type to nod before continuing to speak. “It’ll break your wrist. You need to keep your wrist straight.” Arthit set aside the mat and then grabbed Type’s hand, straightening out his fist so that his hand wasn’t angled. “Like this. Straight ahead. But you’ve got to lead with these-” Arthit tapped the first two knuckles on Type’s fist. “If you hit with the last two, you’ll break them. So don’t do that.” He tapped the part of Type’s fist that he wanted Type to remember. “Always hit with these. They’re stronger. Not only will it hurt them more, but it’ll hurt you less.”
“Straight wrist, lead with first two knuckles not flat,” Type said as he nodded.
“Mn. You’ll have to practice to get to the point that you can do so by muscle memory. Otherwise, you’re going to overthink it and get yourself punched in the face.” Type rolled his eyes and grumbled something about Arthit being dumb. Arthit retaliated by flicking Type on the forehead. “Asshole!”
“Whatever. Now, let me see your fist again.” Arthit grabbed Type’s hand and then used his other hand to direct Type to curl his thumb in front of his fingers. “If you leave it out at the side, you’ll jam your thumb and not make contact with your fist, but if you curl your fingers over your thumb, you’ll break it. So either keep it loose at the side, down out of the way, or curled around your fingers like this.”
“That’s obvious.” Type rolled his eyes yet again, somehow managing to not outright scoff at what he thought was an obvious statement.
“You’d think so, but you’d be surprised at the number of people who do it incorrectly.” Arthit pointed over to an unused standing punching bag a short distance away. “I want you to practice there, and remember what I pointed out. Also once you’re more comfortable with light jabs, don’t be afraid to follow through with your body, put more strength into it.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Type waved Arthit off before he moved over to do what Arthit had told him to, practicing hitting the mat while keeping in mind what he’d been told about his wrist and hand.
Arthit came up behind him and grabbed Type’s other arm, nearly causing him to fall off balance as he swore at Arthit. “Lift this hand up, even while practicing. Get in the habit of keeping it there to block your face. It seems silly when you’re doing it against a punching bag - but again, it’s how you build muscle memory. It will allow you to protect yourself or throw a punch from this hand easier.”
“You’re not helping someone learn how to beat up on someone unsuspecting, are you?” a sudden voice asked off to the side, making both Arthit and Type look to a tall, broad man that Type had seen around but didn’t know.
“Of course not, P’Mill,” answered Arthit with a shake of his head. “N’Type just… tends to find himself in fights more often than not. I’d rather not have to watch him break his wrist or hand in trying to defend himself.”
The man hummed a little and eyed the two of them with a nod of his head before he smiled. “Only good habits, kid. Don’t pass off your bad ones.”
“Phi!”
Mill laughed at Arthit’s expression and shook his head before patting Arthit on the back. “You’ve got a good instructor,” Mill told Type. “He’s good at this - could make a career of it once you graduate.”
“Thanks, P’Mill.” Arthit smiled almost sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I still think I’m going to go into the city, go to university.”
“Well, if you change your mind.”
Arthit smiled a little and thanked Mill again before he went around to check on the others around the room. “P’Mill works here?” Type asked him.
“He owns it,” answered Arthit. “He’s the one who agreed to let me use his gym as an outlet to deal with my anger issues.”
“Anger issues, my ass.” Type had thought that whole thing had been ridiculous. Arthit wasn’t unnecessarily angry or quick to lash out, but he officially was labeled as someone who was due to him defending their friend. Between them, Type was the one who had the anger issues. Type was more likely to lash out with words than fists, however; but he was known to get into his fair share of fights.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get through this so we can go.”
The two of them continued to hang around for a while, Arthit correcting Type when he made mistakes again. Eventually, they called it quits and changed into the clothes they’d worn to the gym so that they could go meet up with the other four. They were waiting at the beach near an already lit bonfire. The sun wasn’t due to set for hours still, but they were all likely to be there well afterward. It was the typical routine for a day where they didn’t have classes early the next morning. They were on break right then, between semesters, and only had another two days of freedom before they went back to classes. None of them were looking forward to it. “Where have you two been?” asked Khom as Arthit and Type sat down.
Techno handed each of them a bottle of Cola as they settled into place. “Thanks,” Arthit told him as he opened the bottle. “Around. We’re here now, so what’s it matter?”
“You weren’t getting into trouble again, were you?” asked Bright, eyeing the two of them warily. “Didn’t we just have a discussion about not doing dumb things if we’re not there to help?”
“Chill. We were just at the gym,” said Type with a roll of his eyes. “Didn’t figure you cared to go.”
Bright scrunched up his face at the thought. “Nah. I was fine here. Got to watch some fine young ladies spending a day at the beach.”
“Pervert,” Knot said with a shake of his head.
“You say that like you wouldn’t ask one of them out!”
Arthit rolled his eyes at the both of them as they bickered back and forth about it, taking a drink of his Cola. “You put up with these two losers all day?” he asked Khom, who just snickered and shook his head.
“Nah. I just got here a little bit ago, honestly,” was the response he gave. He just shrugged when Type asked him what he had been up to that day. Khom seemed to grow a little uncomfortable, but it lasted only a few seconds before he was smiling and redirecting the conversation to something else. He looked over at Arthit when he felt Arthit’s gaze lingering on him and he smiled a little. There was a quick glance in Type’s direction before Khom focused on the conversation again. Arthit took that to mean that wherever it was that he’d been, it wasn’t something that Type should know. Arthit patted Khom’s shoulder. The moment went unnoticed by everyone else, too busy talking shit about anything and everything as they sat around enjoying one of their last days of break.