"Are you sure you'll be fine? You're not cold? I can f-fight for you if you don't want to...?" Trev murmured the last part as Linx raised his eyebrow at the proposal. If Trev did that, the boys might kill Linx from not being able to have sex with Trev for the next couple weeks. Oh, and Trev is too timid to do any harm.

Linx didn't answer, instead he continued to shove his clothes into his duffel, but he quickly stopped by how much his muscles were groaning. He looked at his sad duffel, the clothes more on the floor than in the bag, and shrugged. He'll just hide this in a corner and hopefully no one will steal it.

In the background Trev was still listing off questions, none of which were answered yet. But Linx was getting tired of talking and wanted his silence back, so he gave Trev a vague answer.

"Trev, don't worry. I've done this for six years and I've had to deal with worse things than being a bit sick." It was a lie, but at least it did the job of quieting Trev down.

These past six years he's never taken off more than two days of wrestling, for each day he was back and training again. But not training it for thirteen days in a row, while still feeling weak and tired, and then expecting him to fight a match without getting hurt?

Now he would need a miracle for that.

He wasn't expecting one though, so he was warming-up his muscles to at least be in better shape. He did hate the tremors in his body and how a headache was slowly forming, but what could he do expect grit his teeth and force his body to cooperate. Linx used some of the equipment around the gym to push his muscles until he felt moderately satisfied.

As he heard the referee through the concrete walls shout the winner of the match, Linx was about to go in the small waiting room, but he remembered that Trev was with him and he couldn't stay in the gym. He could easily get mugged and no one would hear him.

"Trev," Trev perked up and looked over at him, "You can't stay here. Go through that corridor, at the end turn right, and go through the door. Close the door and make yourself unnoticeable, but stay within sight of the door so you can go back once my match is over. Okay? Now go." Trev, confused at the rushed commands, remained in his place.

Linx on the other hand couldn't stay here, because he could heard his name being shouted for the next match and he didn't want to be booed by the crowd for being late. So he pushed Trev towards the corridor and he went to the waiting room.

A guy staggered past Linx, probably coming from the previous match, his right cheek steadily getting more swollen. Linx faltered when he saw the guy, confused on his condition.

His face shouldn't have been swollen, it was an illegal move. Even if it was an accident, his cheek shouldn't have looked like an inflating grape.

No no no, it can't be tonight. Not tonight.

Linx rushed to the waiting room, and by the time the door closed behind him, he was already inside the match. The steaming air blew in his face, contrasting the chill in the gym, but Linx didn't pay attention to that. He paid attention to the referee and his opponent.

The ref was talking to someone in the crowd, the two of them exchanging something through the metal wires. His opponent was leaning on one of his hips, his singlet too loose on his body and shoes looking like they're suffocating his feet.

Linx's pupils grew and jaw clenched, quiet anger seeping in and steadying his hands.

Today was what Linx called the rando night, when the rats from the streets come in Rooster and fight for either cash, glory, or whatever their minds are set on. Linx wouldn't have a problem with these nights, expect one small problem that these rats bring with them.

They rig the match and treat these matches as fights.

And fights on the streets aren't pretty. You don't simply win by beating your enemy once, but by beating them up until they can't even tell their right from their left.

Yes, Linx certainly got a miracle. He can play as dirty as he wants to, so he can come out of this clean.

Before the ref started the match, Linx scanned the sweaty crowd and quickly found Trev; near the exit that leads to the back of the building. He was also carrying his duffel, one that was filled with all his clothes and weighed at least twelve pounds (5.4 kg), on top of the backpack and heavy winter clothing he was still wearing.

Linx wondered why Trev bothered to carry all of that or how he even managed to sneak away with carrying it all, but it was a fleeting thought. Because soon the ref blew his whistle and it wasn't Linx's problem.

The crowd started to shout feverly, the noise bouncing off the concrete walls and amplifying so much that it sounds like speakers are next to Linx's ears. But he ignores it all and studies his opponent to gauge on how many rules they were playing by exactly.

Linx soon got his answer when they two stood next to each other, and before the ref could blow his dumb whistle again, the guy swept at Linx's ankles with his right leg and tried to jab at Linx's face with fist.

So no rules then.

Luckily Linx was already on his toes and avoided both attacks. The guy, not discouraged from his failed attempts, bent low on his knees and tried to punch Linx's sides.

He failed once again and left his left side wide open. Linx kicked him and toppled the guy over, getting a nice bruise on him. Linx aimed another kick to his sides, maybe break a rib and win the fight quick and easy, but the guy rolled over the last moment and grabbed onto Linx's ankle as he stood up.

He yanked Linx down, and all the shock from the fall landed on Linx's wrists to save his head from the solid mat. Shocked by the pain, Linx let the guy yank on his ankle again and tower over Linx.

Heh, good thing he didn't let Trev fight for him.

Linx saw the fist looming over him and tried to doge by turning away, but he still got punched right on his left cheek, his head banging against the mat. Linx didn't dwell on the pain and swept at the guy's legs to create distance.

The guy bounced back as Linx bounced back onto his feet. The two stared at one another and the guy smirked.

"You're pretty good for an old Rooster. Too bad you're gonna be roasted." The guy zig zagged to Linx and punched him in the stomach, which Linx luckily blocked.

Expect, it was a fake punch and Linx's stiff muscles couldn't stop the real punch to his sides.

By this point Linx was panting through his mouth, his nose clogged up and dripping liquid snot. His heavy eyelids wide open to see the next attack, even though he knows his muscles won't listen to him.

Linx side-stepped to avoid the strike to his jaw and went to hit the guy's knees from the front. It hit and the guy stumbled forward, but blocked Linx's fist to collide with his stomach.

Linx faked a punch and avoided one, and created distance again.

He couldn't win this.

Too sick and weak, but he couldn't escape from this. He forfeits and then everybody will ignore the comment, with the guy getting more confidence at Linx's cowardliness.

So he can't ignore.

He can't run.

He can't hide.

"You can't hide under the bed, Linx. You know I'll always find you."

Linx got slammed to the ground, his left cheek swelling even more, and the crowd roared at his stupidity of standing still.

Linx tried to stand back up, but got shoved back down. He tried again and again, until the guy just kicked him down.

"This isn't peek-a-book, Linx. You can never ignore me."

Pain exploded all over his body, but he couldn't do anything about it. Because his voice told Linx he couldn't do anything about it and neither could his mom, so what was the point in running away?

Linx tried to go past the haze and the dumb voice in his head, but he couldn't escape it. Pain kept on falling, the cheering of the crowd deafening, and Linx was losing all his battles.

But then everything stopped, and one shrilled voice broke through Linx's pain.

"Police!"

From cheering to screaming, the crowd scattered like scared cats. Distant sirens could be heard, but Linx didn't care about any of that.

The guy towering above him was still, his jaw slack. Fear pooled in his eyes, maybe a trauma from police, but Linx didn't care.

Linx knocked the guy's shins, and made him tumble down. Before the guy could react, Linx jumped on him and slammed his fist in his lower jaw. No feeling but victory bloomed in Linx's chest as he saw the guy pass out from the shock and his teeth digging into each other.

Linx wanted to cough in the guy's face too, so he'll know how it's like to fight when your body doesn't listen, but the sirens were getting too loud.

Linx staggered back onto his feet, he couldn't see Trev in the deserted crowd, so he ran with a painful limp outside.

He pushed the exit open and the winter wind bite at Linx's skin. He didn't care, he couldn't care, and he stumbled through the darkness.

The snot dripping down his mouth tasted metallic and froze on his face. His bruises welcomed the cold as their ice pack, but his body was starting to refuse to move with so much stress and burden.

And of course his voice, father's voice, started to echo around him. He ignored him though and focused on his physical pain, moving in whatever direction his feet were taking him.

But then with one wrong step on icy concrete and Linx flew forward, his knees taking most of the damage. The pure snow soon turned a dirty pink, the same shade as Linx's nose and ears.

He tried to stay awake, but the longer he tried, the more he saw no point in it. Why stay awake in this harsh environment with his father's voice the only thing accompanying him, when he could rest in silent bliss?

So he listened to his body's pleas to rest, yet the heavens seemed to reject this idea when blistering warmth wrapped around him and another voice entered. He couldn't register what the voice was saying, but he could feel a long heavy jacket on him with weak arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Linx didn't lean into the warm embrace, nor feel more relaxed. But he let the safety and concern envelop him and lull him to a peaceful sleep.

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