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Arataki Itto looked at a flickering neon light beside the clock on the wall, glancing between it and the glass doors that showed the empty street beyond. He leaned against a wall, drumming his fingers over the red stripes on his arm. “I don’t believe it. Late. Again.”
Thoma yawned into the crook of his arm and rubbed his face with a towel, muttering darkly under his breath. “We are carrying the university team for this exact reason.”
“Welp,” Itto started to toss his gear into his bag. “I should catch the last bus since he was my ride back to the dorm.”
“Car break down again?” His brows furrowed in concern. “I could help you work on it-”
“Nope, just wanted to save gas.” Itto rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was going to surprise Abuela this weekend. She keeps texting about the cable and well, you met her. You know how she is.”
Thoma could not hold the chuckle that slipped between his lips. “Yeah, she’s… she’s Abuela. At least she likes me; she despises Ayato.”
Itto groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, I don’t know what his problem is! One second he’s like ‘I can help you with that homework’ and the next he’s like ‘My Tamagotchi is ill and I’m too distressed to even think about dishes.’ Like, you stunk the house up with your pathetic attempts at cooking, clean up your own mess.”
Thoma raised an eyebrow, content to let him rant. “Good thing he goes home every weekend.”
“Yeah, that’s nice.” Itto glanced at the clock again and shouldered his bag, “I should pack early since I won’t be training tonight.”
Thoma crossed his arms over his chest, flashing a smile that would make a crowded room swoon. It always worked on Itto whenever Thoma ‘needed help’ with trivial tasks. “You know, if you want to get a match in before you go out of town, you could spar with me.”
Itto’s eyes crinkled at the corners before he could stop it, covering his smile with the back of his hand. His friend had earned a scholarship for his skills and was a decorated champion. Itto could see the top of his Adonis belt peeking over the waistband of his shorts, but Thoma was so … lithe compared to his own bulky frame. “I’d hate to ruin your pretty face,” he snickered. “Don’t want people thinking I abuse my roommate.”
By way of an answer, Thoma pulled his muscle tank over his head (not that it was covering much, to begin with, Itto observes) and slid between the ring's ropes. He tightened the wraps on his hands and taunted Itto with a toothy smirk. “What’s wrong, Arataki? Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”
Itto followed and was towering over him in an instant, faces only a few inches apart. “I’m going to fucking ruin you, Thoma.”
The two men tapped their knuckles together and moved to opposite corners of the ring, counting down from three.
Thoma slid under Itto’s defenses and struck a heavy blow to the ribs, sending the bigger man reeling back.
A feint. Guard. Guard. Itto discovered the hard way they were evenly matched and threw his weight into every swing, feral glee sparkling in his dark eyes.
Thoma had become a vicious inescapable whirlwind and danced around Itto’s attacks, striking at every weak point. Sweat joined the blood running down his face. The taste of iron sent him into a blind trance and when he came to, he had Thoma pinned in a corner.
But something was wrong. Thoma was smiling. Itto was too close to dodge the left hook that caught him solidly in the jaw and stumbled backward, blood spraying from his mouth. He regained his footing just long enough to see Thoma’s blurry form lurch forward.
Everything Itto threw was rebuffed and he was almost forced against the ropes when Thoma spoke between ragged breaths.
“Tell me I’m better.”
“What?!” A strike to the ribs ricocheted him off the ropes and onto his knees. He panted, shoulders sagging as he stared upwards.
Thoma was flagging but he was in remarkably better condition than his friend. “I said, tell me I’m better.” He lifted Itto’s chin with bloodied knuckles, turning his head to see the damage. It was minimal, a couple of cuts. Nothing that would not fade before Itto went home to his family. Then, he continued, “You were expecting to win, weren’t you, Arataki?”
Itto leaned into his hand, but whether it was from weakness or desire he did not want to know. He hadn’t found his breath yet and placed his hands on his knees, tawny chest purple and heaving, strands of white hair stuck to his face where it had fallen from the tight ponytail.
Thoma sank to one knee and wiped the blood and sweat from Itto’s eyes, panting as he laughed in his face. “We should train like this more often.”
Itto grabbed the back of Thoma’s neck with a large hand and dragged him closer to growl in his face. “Since when are you so cocky?”
Thoma’s face belied an innocence that his actions did not reflect as he found himself forcibly seated in front of his friend. He traced a slim finger over the mess of dark bruises that he painted over Itto’s chest. “I think I missed a few spots.” He stared up through damp lashes. “Do you agree?”
Itto grabbed him by the hip and pulled him flush against his body, ignoring the deep ache in his limbs to better taste the salt and iron on Thoma’s mouth. He had never been shy, but he had never been this bold. He lowered Thoma onto his back and lay his head on his chest, reaching up to entwine their fingers. “I yield, Thoma.”
Thoma let his head fall to the side, smiling as if he had won the lottery. “Finally.”
***
Itto slouched in his chair, leaning on the counter as Thoma dried his hair. He was content to let Thoma fuss as he always did when he got hurt, especially tonight considering he had done the hurting. “Will all our spars end like that?” He asked hopefully once Thoma was done tending to him.
Thoma snickered. “With you losing? I hope not.”
Itto wobbled as he stood, leaning on Thoma for support as he groaned and limped back to his room.
Thoma helped him lie down and spun on his heel to leave when Itto seized his wrist.
“Don’t go.” A deep blush reddened his face as he added, “Please.”
Tension visibly melted from Thoma’s shoulders as he sank into bed with Itto, hooking their pinkies together.
“I’ll stay, Arataki, as long as you want me.”