So I'm one week into school and I'm already completely overwhelmed haha... I never realized college apps were so much work either... Anyway, I hope everyone likes this fluffy chapter! :)

(and the song is mentioned later in the chapter, you'll see, just thought I'd put it here if anyone was interested in listening to it)

"Should we go to the gym I work at?" Lucas asked me as I grabbed our plates and the empty pizza box to discard them.

We were sitting on the floor in front of my bed finishing up our dinner while watching the last match from the first day of Doubles. Today's fights weren't impressive, I could win each match single-handedly.

Lucas stood up, brushing his hands against each other to get any remaining crumbs off, "Even if we can take these guys, it might not be as easy down the line. I think it'd be good to get used to fighting with each other rather than against."

"Yeah, we might not have time to practice later so we should start now. I don't know how many pros joined for this tournament, but I'm sure the number rose now that they can get publicity and won't be breaking any laws." I agreed. We had never fought together so it would be wise to work on our dynamics.

"Let me change first, I'm not about to work out in a pair of jeans," I told Lucas as I moved to grab a pair of black shorts, grabbing a plain black tank top as well.

I changed quickly and looked over to Lucas, noticing what he was wearing, "Do you need some clothes to change into?" I asked.

"Nah, I have some spares in the locker room."

We walked outside and the sky was already black, the parking lot illuminated by flickering street lights and the vibrant fast food signs in the distance. I climbed into the passenger seat of Lucas's car. He turned on the radio as he backed out of his sport, and the song that came on was too fitting.

I listened to the lyrics as they blasted out of the speaker,

We are ready for a street fight

And damn if I didn't know better this song almost sounded as if it was about me.

It made me laugh.

Lucas turned his head to see what I thought was so funny and he was met with a large smile.

Instantaneously the smile spread to his face and his expression mirrored mine. It felt like he knew exactly what I was laughing about.

Lucas seemed to know the song so he turned the music up even louder and rolled down the windows.

He began to sing the lyrics to the song, shouting so that his voice could be heard.

I stuck my hand out the window and felt the wind blowing between my fingers. Lights were flashing in my eyes as the occasional car would pass us.

The stars were shining bright and Lucas's voice could be heard in the background, singing his heart out to what may now be my new favorite song.

I'm a bad dream, and you can't wake

Nothing's gonna kill me

Nothing's gonna stand in my way

Are you talking to me?

Are You talking to me?

The moment was surreal, peaceful even. It reminds me of all those teen movies that are shoved in your face starting from a young age that tell you, 'This. This is what your high school years are supposed to look like.' I always hated those movies, just because of how unrealistic they are.

Life isn't all sunshine, daisies, and aesthetics. And people realize that when they get to a certain age, usually in high school. Which is why these movies make even less sense because it makes teenagers feel like they aren't living life to the fullest and that they are missing out in the prime years of their life, when in reality this isn't the end, it's just the beginning.

We pulled into a spot in front of Lucas's boxing gym. We walked towards the door and Lucas shuffled through his pockets looking for keys. He opened the door to the unlit gym and walked inside. He took a couple of steps and then flicked the light switch up.

Sets of lights turned on, a couple at a time starting from the lights above us and then finally to the back of the gym.

Directly in front, there were several mats splayed out on the ground. To my left were rows upon rows of different types of punching bags and to my right were two different boxing rings.

They had all sorts of equipment throughout the rest of the place.

As I was looking around, taking in my surroundings, Lucas wandered off to the back to what I assumed was the staff locker room because he came back out in shorts that resembled mine and a white shirt with the name of some band across his chest.

"Kai, come over here." I walked toward the back of the gym where Lucas stood by a black and blue punching bag.

He handed me a pair of gloves, "To protect your hands."

"Why do I need to protect my hands, I've been fighting with nothing covering them for years, and I've been completely fine," I questioned as I pulled the velcro tighter, closing the straps around my wrists.

"You're going to hurt your hands when fighting during the match, you dont need to hurt them even more during practice."

"Fair enough."

Lucas settled himself behind the bag, gripping the sides to steady it.

"Go for it when you're ready." He stated.

I jumped up and down a few times, loosening up my body and shaking my arms. I pulled my hands up so they were in a position to protect myself during an actual fight.

I jabbed the black bag with my right hand, Lucas had to readjust his position due to the impact. I then did the same movement with my left hand.

I practiced different types of punches, placing them on different parts of the punching bag to imitate different parts of the body.

"You know," I huffed, throwing a left hook, "when you said we were going to practice I thought it would have to do more with making our teamwork a little better." I continued to throw punches, my breathing steady and even, blowing out puffs of air when I connected with the bag. "Isn't this even less productive than when we used to fight each other. At least then you could see my style first hand."

Lucas let go of the bag and I did a standing sidekick, then changing positions so I was now holding the bag for Lucas. He began to punch it, similarly to how I was before.

"Kai, this is just to help us warm-up," he chuckled.

"Oh," I mumbled.

Lucas lowered his hands and walked around the punching bag. "I actually didn't bring you here to work on our teamwork."

I furrowed my eyebrows, confused. "Then why are we even here?"

"We've fought so much over the last couple of years I don't think there's really anything we don't know about how the other fights."

"I guess that makes sense." I followed Lucas as he started walking toward one of the rings.

He climbed under the rope and I followed so that we were both standing in the middle of the platform.

"I brought you here because I wanted to spend more time with you, but since we have to get up early for school I thought you'd say no and kick me out so you could get some sleep. That's why I decided to just take you here instead."

I looked down and scratched the back of my head, "I wouldn't have kicked you out..." I trailed off.

"But you wouldn't have let me stay either."

"Look, it's nothing personal," I sighed. "I don't even let Jack or Zay sleep over at my house, you've already slept there several times."

Lucas rolled his eyes, "I slept. But I always get the feeling you're wide awake."

I nervously laughed, "What do you mean?"

"Are you just not able to sleep with other people in the room or something?" He questioned."

"Haha," my laugh was fake, "yeah, something like that." I wanted to end the conversation so I swung at Lucas's head.

He had fast reflexes so he dodged my shot, but barely.

"Oh fuck you!" He laughed, throwing several punches back my way, all of which I blocked.

Our little spar was intense, of course, similar to our fights from before, but now it felt like we were both holding back even more.

The fight continued on but we both made sure not to hurt each other in the slightest, even if that meant pulling our punches a little too far left so the other had more time to dodge, or kicking slightly too high so that Lucas could make sure he ducked.

Maybe that wasn't the best way to practice, but just as Lucas said, it's not like we are here to practice in the first place.

Now it was just us spending time together and having fun doing something that we both love.

I collapsed on the floor with Lucas laying next to me, both of us were panting, but not hard. This wasn't enough to tire us out, but we were still a little winded.

We both stared at the ceiling in silence for a minute until our breathing had gone back to normal. I felt Lucas shift beside me but I didn't move my gaze. He was lying on his side, staring at me.

His brown hair partially covered his eyes and the corners of his mouth were etched into a frown.

He slowly moved his hand and touched my arm. I flinched at first, unexpectant of his light graze. He was tracing something below my shoulder and I quickly realized it was one of my scars. One of the many that littered my visible arms.

"Do you think it's gross?" I asked, still looking into the bright light above me.

Lucas jolted up into a sitting position, he had an intense look on his face and his brows were tightly knitted together. "Do you think they're gross?"

I took a second before answering, "Hmmm, I used to. Back when kids at school gave me shit for it." I rolled onto my side so that I was looking at the concerned boy. "Elementary school kids are ruthless, man. They've got no filter. I moved after that though, but I was in a wheelchair when I started middle school, so I'm sure you can imagine how shitty that was." I let out a humorless laugh.

"You were in a wheelchair?" Concern laced his voice.

"A wheelchair? Hell, I was partially paralyzed for a couple of years. They weren't even sure I was gonna walk again. But I hated how people treated me in the foster system, being disabled and having mental illness and all. So I worked hard at physical therapy until I was 14 and left it all behind. Although those assholes still got checks because I couldn't get emancipated until I was 16."

"Because of all the bullying, I was obsessed with how I looked and how others saw me so I hid the scars. Back then other people called it disgusting so of course, I thought they were gross. But after a while, I just stopped caring about what others think. I only hide the scars now so I don't have to talk about it."

Lucas was still lightly tracing the scars from my shoulder all the way down to my wrist, tentatively listening to every word that came out of my mouth.

"They aren't gross." He whispered. "They're beautiful."

I snapped my eyes up to his.

Keeping eye contact, Lucas bent down and laid a soft kiss on a scar near my wrist, "You're beautiful." He continued to softly kiss the scars up my arm. "I hate how you got these scars," another kiss. "But since you have them," and another. "Then I will cherish them, and love them."

He was at my shoulder, kissing one of the thicker and more jagged marks, "You should embrace them, not hide them. You should be proud that you got through it, not ashamed that it happened."

Lucas moved to my collar bone, leaving gentle kisses across my neck and then jaw. He looked into my eyes as he hovered above me. I had that feeling in the back of my throat. The one you get when you feel like crying, and you know that if you say anything then you will cry.

I don't know if I was crazy, but I felt like Lucas understood that, he didn't need me to talk. Instead, he captured my lips in an endearing kiss.

This wasn't like the rest where we were horny and in a rush. I could feel his passion through his plump lips, and unlike any other that I've met, there was no pity in his eyes.

He truly saw me for me. He saw my scars as part of me, not part of some unfortunate event that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

He didn't see these marks as baggage, and that alone is what made me feel like crying.

I wrapped my hands around his neck as he leaned over my body, finally closing his eyes in a flutter as I parted my mouth and he parted his.

Oh, so this is what it's like to feel loved. To feel wanted.

I didn't know it was so nice.