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Summary
There's an itch behind your eyeballs, deep in the pit of your stomach. It lives in your spinal fluid and in your knuckles, at the bottom of your lungs and at the back of your throat. It's relentless. It wants the hits to land, wants the bruises to form, wants the blood to drip down. It only stops when fists hit flesh, when the adrenaline hits the receptors. Then, for a blessed while, it’s gone.
Harry gets restless, and tries to handle it by going pit-fighting. Kim tries his best to show him other ways to take care of his urges. It works, for a while – until everything gets complicated.