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cw: aggressive behavior, physical injuries, violence, mexico city, week three, weigh in + morning of fight

content info: boxing au, touch as communication, injury care, tending wounds, professional boundaries, emotional messy boxer, reckless boxer, slow burn

disclaimer: all people in fic r aged up.

summary: you built your reputation the hard way. quietly, carefully. one fight at a time. by the time people stop questioning you, fighters are requesting you. across the country, hollis is building a reputation of his own. brilliant. reckless. impossible to control. so when his team calls and asks you to join his corner, you already know what everyone else does. he doesn't listen. but when the bell rings and blood starts running down his face, you're the only one he looks at between rounds.

wc: 15.4k

a/n: IM SORRY SLUSHIES. it’s SO HARD writing about boxing when i barley am a fan myself … this chapter will be getting broken up because i believe in total it was around 32k words..?

008 -> 009 -> 010

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the hotel room is dark. the alarm goes off at 6:00 a.m and Hollis immediately wants to throw his phone across the room.

he groans into his pillow. fight week. weigh-in day. another day of cameras. another day of reporters asking the same questions. another day of pretending none of it gets to him.

he lays there for a second longer…then another staring at the ceiling, wide awake. the truth is—he was already awake. he hadn’t slept much, not after last night—not after the rooftop.

his jaw tightens slightly. his eyes close, which is a mistake because the second they do—he remembers it. your hand against his face. the way your voice sounded when you laughed. the way you looked standing beneath the city lights.

the kiss. god. the kiss. his stomach immediately flips. which is ridiculous because he’s fought in front of thousands of people, gotten punched in the face on live streams, gone viral for saying stupid things. and somehow—one girl kisses him and suddenly he’s acting like an idiot.

he drags both hands down his face, annoyed with himself. mostly because he already knows the truth: he likes you. not in the casual way, not in the temporary way, not in the way people assume (a little).

he likes talking to you. he likes being around you. he likes hearing your opinions on things. he likes how you laugh. he likes how you somehow make every room feel quieter.

and that’s a problem because you’re leaving in a few days. Mexico City ends eventually. the trip ends. the fight ends. and then what? he doesn’t have an answer. the thought sits heavier than he’d like. he stares at the ceiling again. fight day is tomorrow. he should be thinking about the opponent. he should be thinking about strategy. he should be thinking about weight.

instead—he’s thinking about the fact you kissed him on the cheek before walking into your hotel room. his eyes squeeze shut, “…jesus christ.” he sounds genuinely irritated. which only makes it worse.

his phone vibrates beside him. then again and again. he grabs it. twenty-seven notifications. perfect, exactly what he wanted. texts from; Marcus, Roman, and sponsors. emails asking interviews. new schedules. promotional appearances. he scrolls through all of them, already feeling exhausted.

his thumb pauses because he sees your name. nothing new, just your contact sitting there. the last messages from yesterday.

Y/n: don’t get punched in the face before then.

Hollis: no promises.

a smile pulls at his mouth before he can stop it. he immediately hates himself for it, the smile stays anyway.

outside the window—the city is already moving and waiting for him. for the first time all week—his stomach twists for a reason that has nothing to do with fighting. tonight is the weigh-in and tomorrow is the fight. but somehow— the thing making him the most nervous isn’t getting in the ring, it’s seeing you again.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

walking into the gym feels like prison, at least according to Ryan. “i’m actually dying,” he says as all of you enter.

“you’re not dying,” you reassure.

“i can literally see god.”

Nate doesn’t even look up from where he’s sitting on the floor, “tell him i said hi.”

Ryan throws a towel at him and misses completely. Roman laughs, “your aim’s getting worse.”

“because i haven’t eaten real food in two days.”

“dramatic.”

“i’m serious.”

Ryan points accusingly toward Hollis, “he started this.”

Hollis is sitting on a stationary bike near the back wall with his hoodie on and the hood up. sweat drips down his neck. he looks miserable, which somehow makes everyone feel slightly better.

at least they’re suffering together.

“i didn’t make you cut weight,” Hollis defends himself.

“friendship made me cut weight.”

“that’s your fault.”

Ryan groans, “when this is over i’m ordering three burgers.”

“three?”

“mm, maybe five.”

“that’s more realistic.”

Nate nods in approval, “atta boy.”

the room fills with tired laughter. nobody has energy and nobody wants to be up at the gym. they’re all still here, though, because nobody wanted Hollis doing this alone, even if they won’t admit it.

especially Nate, who keeps pretending he isn’t worried and keeps checking the scale every fifteen minutes.

Marcus walks in a few minutes later with coffee in one hand and a clipboard in the other.

he takes one look around, “wow.”

the boys look up.

Marcus shakes his head, “you all look terrible.”

“thank you.”

“that’s exactly what you want before a weigh-in.”

Ryan points toward Marcus, “wow, so great.”

“you’re professional athletes.”

“professional athletes should eat good to stay focused.”

Roman laughs. Marcus ignores all of them.

the gym doors open again. Hollis looks up immediately because he already knows who it is.

you step inside carrying a duffel bag over one shoulder. your hair is pulled back, and you have a hoodie on, looking annoyingly awake for this hour.

Marcus notices immediately, “look.” he points.“someone who doesn’t look like death.”

you take one look at the room then stop, “…oh my god.”

Ryan immediately points at Hollis, “it was his idea.”

“i didn’t even say anything.”

“you inspired this.”

Nate groans from the floor, “can we eat yet?”

“no.”

collective suffering. you laugh. the sound somehow makes the room feel lighter instantly. even Hollis smiles, small—barely there. but you catch it. your eyes meet his for half a second. you remember everything: the rooftop, the kiss, the cheek kiss last night. all of it comes rushing back. this time neither of you looks away, just a brief look. something warm and private between the two of you. then Ryan ruins it immediately.

“if you two start making eye contact like that again, i’m reporting it to those update pages.”

the entire room erupts. Nate falls sideways laughing, Roman throws a towel at Ryan, and Marcus pinches the bridge of his nose. you immediately hide your face while Hollis just shakes his head, but he’s smiling now.

now the weigh-in feels a little less terrifying for everyone with everyone sneaking at you and Hollis.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

the workout finally ends around seven-thirty. thank god because everybody is miserable.

Ryan is laying flat on the gym floor, “leave me here.” you feel bad, he hasn’t been acting the same without his daily intake of actual food. none of the boys have eaten real food, but it’s affecting him the most.

Marcus looks down at him, “get up.”

“i’m hungry, tired.”

“you’re grown.”

“and dying.”

Nate tosses a towel onto Ryan’s face, “dramatic.”

“you’re all gonna miss me and don’t act like you’re never over dramatic.”

Roman laughs, “we won’t.”

“wow.”

you shake your head, “you’ll survive.”

Ryan immediately points at you, “thank you.”

“i wasn’t talking to you.”

the room erupts again.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

eventually everybody heads upstairs. showers, fresh clothes, and a chance to feel human again. for maybe thirty minutes. by eight o’clock, the hotel restaurant is filled with business people, tourists, families, and one very hungry fight team.

the second everyone sits down, Ryan grabs a menu. Marcus takes it away, “absolutely not.”

“i hate this sport.”

“you chose it.”

“biggest mistake of my life.”

you laugh into your coffee.

across the table, Hollis is already watching you. he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Nate notices immediately because of course he does. he kicks Roman under the table. Roman follows his gaze and immediately smirks.

uh oh. Hollis catches both of them looking and gives them a warning look.

they start laughing even harder.

thankfully, you notice none of it because you’re busy scrolling through emails on your phone.

“put the phone away.”

you look up. it’s Hollis, of course. you raise an eyebrow, “i’m working.”

“it’s eight in the morning.”

“exactly.”

“normal people don’t answer emails at eight.”

“you’ve been awake since five.”

“…”

“exactly.”

Nate immediately points, “she got you there.”

“thank you.”

Hollis rolls his eyes, but there’s an automatic smile there. the kind he only seems to get around you lately. which is becoming a problem, for everyone involved. especially him.

eventually breakfast arrives…or at least breakfast for everybody who isn’t cutting weight.

Ryan looks ready to cry watching everyone else eat, “this feels targeted.”

Roman takes a slow and dramatic bite out of his food.

Ryan glares, “you’re evil as fuck.”

“i know.”

for a little while, it feels normal. just conversation, jokes, pictures, Nate showing everyone some random video, Ryan nearly choking from laughing, Marcus threatening violence. the usual. until somebody checks the time. it’s 8:57 a.m. the mood shifts slightly. its getting closer to the real deal. two hours, that’s all that’s left. the weigh-in. the face-off. the cameras. closer to the fight. everything they’ve been working toward.

you glance across the table. Hollis is staring down into his coffee. he’s thinking, he’s quieter than everyone else.

you know that look now, fight mode. the version of him that gets quieter the closer things get. without thinking, your foot nudges his lightly beneath the table. his eyes immediately lift to yours. you offer a small smile, “you good?”

a beat passes. then Hollis nods once, “yeah.”he doesn’t look away right away. neither do you. the restaurant disappears for a while.

that is until Ryan speaks. “if you two keep doing that, i’m charging admission.”

the moment dies instantly. Nate nearly spits out his drink laughing. Roman completely loses it. Marcus closes his eyes. you immediately drop your head into your hands. while Hollis just shakes his head, trying—and failing—not to smile.

11:00 AM is getting closer. nobody’s really hungry anymore. Ryan and Nate’s hotel room always feels louder than everybody else’s. you don’t know how, the room isn’t even that big. but there’s music playing from somebody’s phone.

Ryan’s sitting upside down across one of the beds. Nate’s trying to figure out which shirt he’s wearing. and Roman is throwing pillows at both of them.

you sit cross-legged in the desk chair near the window with a coffee in your hand, watching the disaster unfold. “that shirt looks stupid.”

Nate immediately looks offended.

“which one?”

“all of them. where are the ones i said looked nice?”

“wow.”

Ryan nods, “she’s right.”

“nobody asked you.”

“i’m the voice of the people.”

Roman throws another pillow and it hits Ryan directly in the face. the room erupts again, for a few minutes it’s just that. you’re laughing so hard from everything they are saying and doing. it’s probably because everybody is trying to distract themselves from the fact that weigh-ins are in a couple hours.

eventually—the conversation shifts, like it always does. back to the fight.

Ryan stretches his arms behind his head, “you think he’s nervous?”

everybody knows who he means—Hollis.

Nate shrugs, “probably.”

Roman nods, “he won’t admit it.”

“obviously.”

you smile slightly into your coffee because that’s true, very true.

Ryan glances toward you, “you met his opponent yet?”

you freeze for a second, nobody notices at first. except Roman because Roman notices everything.

you lower your coffee, “…yeah.”

three heads immediately turn toward you, “wait.”Nate sits up. “seriously?”

you nod, “i know him.”

Ryan blinks, “from where?”

you hesitate for a second, “Massachusetts.”

the room gets quieter. it’s not filled with curiosity, the room gets filled with curiosity. Roman leans back against the wall, “how?”

you stare down at the coffee cup—thinking, “his sister.”

Ryan frowns, “what about her?”

you laugh softly because there’s really no easy way to explain this, “she was my best friend.”

that gets their attention immediately. all three of them. Nate sits forward, “seriously?”

you nod, “for years.” a pause. “we trained together.”

Ryan’s eyebrows shoot up, “wait.”

“yeah?” another pause. “that’s Naomi.”

the realization hits all of them at once.

“Oh.” “Oh.” “OH.”

you laugh despite yourself, “yeah.”

Roman’s eyes widen slightly, “that’s who you were talking about on the rooftop?”

you furrow your brows and immediately point, “how do you know about the rooftop?”

Roman looks away. guilty. Ryan starts laughing. Nate starts laughing.

you narrow your eyes, “what do you idiots know?”

“nothing.”

“absolutely nothing.”

“you’re terrible liars.” they are. very terrible liars. thankfully nobody elaborates because they’d have to explain why Hollis has spent the last week talking about you constantly. and nobody wants to die today.

Ryan clears his throat, “…so what’s the brother like?”

the question lingers. you think about it, “he’s good.”

Ryan groans, “that’s not what i wanted to hear.”

you laugh, “he is.” a pause. “he works hard.”another pause. “takes things seriously.”

Roman nods, “sounds annoying already.”

“little bit.”

that gets a laugh. you smile but it fades slightly. the truth is—you haven’t thought about him in a long time. not really, not until this trip. not until the fight announcement. and definitely not until now.

Nate notices the look immediately, “you okay?”

your eyes lift. you smile, “yeah.” surprisingly—you mean it. for the first time in years—thinking about your home town doesn’t hurt quite as much.

a knock sounds against the hotel room door, everybody turns. Ryan gets up first and opens it. he immediately groans, “great.”

Hollis, standing in the doorway, hair still damp, in all black outfit. his hands are shoved into his pockets. he looks between everybody then his eyes land on you, immediately. like they always do now. neither of you says anything. just remembering everything. “hey.” his voice is casual, too casual.

you smile anyway, “hey.”

that single word affects both of you way more than it should. moments later, Roman throws a pillow at Hollis. the room gets filled with laughter. you have no idea why all of you are acting like giggleshits. maybe just trying to lighten up the mood for Hollis.

“wait—no! those are the pillows on my bed!” Nate exclaims seeing the pillow hit the floor. you and Ryan laugh even harder. Hollis stares at Roman for a second before throwing it back at him, having a grin on his face.

a few moments pass where Hollis is just talking to the boys about pokémon again. you try to understand what he’s talking about. although he explained it to you, you’re still confused.

ring! ring! ring!

it’s your phone. you glance down, unknown number. you immediately know it’s probably work because somehow work always finds you, “hold on.” you stand from the chair.

Nate looks at you, “no.”

you look back, “yes.”

Ryan shakes his head, “traitor.”

“you’ll survive.”

“will we?”

“no.” you laugh before slipping out the door, leaving them to start another argument without you. the fades as you’re heading down the hallway. you answer the call and spend the next ten minutes discussing paperwork, licensing, travel schedules, future events. pretty boring, very boring. by the time you hang up, your coffee’s cold and your social battery feels slightly drained. instead of heading back, you make your way toward your room. the second the door closes behind you, silence settles over the room. beautiful silence.

you kick your shoes off, drop onto the edge of the bed, and finally breathe. the room feels calm. safe without the cameras, media, and fight talk.

it’s just you—for maybe five whole minutes.

knock! knock!

you blink, immediately suspicious. nobody normal knocks like that.

knock!

you already know who it is. you walk over, open the door, and there he is. Hollis. standing in the hallway with one hand shoved into his pocket and the other holding a hotel key like he wasn’t entirely sure you’d answer.

your stomach does something incredibly annoying like it always does.

“…hi.” his eyes flick over your face, almost checking making sure you’re okay.

“hi.” a beat passes. neither of you moves because suddenly you’re both remembering last night. again.

you lean lightly against the doorframe, “…what are you doing?”

Hollis shrugs, “i dunno.”

you immediately laugh, “great answer.”

“i know.”

“very helpful.”

“thanks.” the corner of his mouth lifts slightly.

you hate how much you like seeing him smile. neither of you says anything. you just comfortably stand there.

then he speaks, “you disappeared.”

your eyebrows lift, “…you followed me?”

“no.” a pause. “i asked where you went.” that’s somehow worse.

you smile despite yourself, “oh.”

Hollis glances down the hallway before looking back at you, “you okay?” the question catches you off guard because he asks it like he genuinely wants the answer. not because he’s making conversation. not because he’s being polite. but because he wants to know.

you nod, “yeah.” you pause. “just wanted five minutes without hearing Nate scream.”

“fair.”

you laugh again. everything feels weirdly normal…until Hollis looks at you for just a little too long. and suddenly it isn’t normal anymore. his eyes soften the exact same way they did on the rooftop, the exact same way they have all week.

your heartbeat betrays you immediately, “what?”

his gaze drops briefly to your lips then back up. it’s gone so fast you almost think you imagined it, “nothing.”

lie. you narrow your eyes, “Hollis.”

now he’s the one smiling.

“we should probably get downstairs soon.”

you stare at him because he absolutely came up here for a reason. you sigh dramatically, “you’re avoiding the question.”

“maybe.”

“you knocked on my door just to avoid questions?”

“maybe.”

you laugh. he looks way too pleased with himself. and for one brief second, standing there in the doorway with the weigh-in only a few hours away, it almost feels like the two of you are the only people in the hotel.

the look in his eye changes, he rubs his neck looking at you like he is hurt.

you stare at him for another second, “…your neck?”

Hollis nods immediately, “my neck.”

you narrow your eyes, “your neck.”

“yeah.” the way he says it sounds suspiciously rehearsed. you know that. he knows that. but neither of you says it.

you sigh dramatically, “…come in.” the second the words leave your mouth, his expression changes. it’s not much but you still notice the change. he’d been hoping you’d say that. which annoys you immediately, “you’re smiling.”

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

“i’m literally not.”

“liar.”

Hollis follows you inside anyway. the hotel room is quiet compared to everything else today. no Nate, no Ryan, no cameras, no Marcus. just the two of you.

you point toward the chair near the desk, “sit.”

he does, immediately. which should’ve been your first clue because normally Hollis argues about everything. today? nothing. not one complaint. he’s acting very suspicious.

you step between his knees carefully, your hands moving toward the back of his neck. it’s professional, entirely professional…at least that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself, “where does it hurt?”

“right here.”

you gently touch the side of his neck, he doesn’t even flinch.

your eyebrow lifts, “hm.”

“what?”

“nothing.”

you continue checking anyway, moving carefully. your fingers brush against his skin, his pulse, the muscle near his shoulder. nothing feels wrong, at all. which is strange because when something actually hurts, Hollis complains about it—a lot. you move around in front of him, checking the cut near his eyebrow next, the same one from earlier. your fingers lightly tilt his chin upward. his eyes immediately lift to yours. the room feels way too small now. you try focusing on the cut, you really do. but Hollis keeps looking at you, not saying anything. just watching like you’re the most interesting thing in the room.

“…stop.”

his mouth twitches, “stop what?”

“that.”

“helpful.”

you roll your eyes before glancing back at the cut. it’s still healing, still closed, still completely fine. which finally makes something click slowly.

your eyes narrow, “…Hollis.”

“yeah?”

“your neck doesn’t hurt.”

immediately—“it does.”

“it absolutely does not.”

“it kinda does.”

“you are such a liar.”

his smile finally breaks through. there it is, the truth. you stare at him, completely unimpressed, before lightly smacking his shoulder. the weakest hit in human history. it’s honestly embarrassing.

Hollis actually laughs, “ow.”

“oh shut up.”

“that really hurt.”

“you’re impossible.” you try walking away. you really do. except his hand catches your wrist first. it’s not hard, it’s more gentle if anything. your breath immediately catches. the room goes quiet again because suddenly you’re both very aware of the fact that he’s touching you. neither of you is moving again.

Hollis looks down briefly at where his fingers rest against your wrist before looking back up. his expression is softer now, less teasing and more honest. “i wanted to see you.”

your stomach flips instantly, of course that’s what it was. not the neck. not the cut. not any injury. just you. for a second, you genuinely forget how to breathe. “…that’s a terrible excuse.”

a small smile appears, “i know.”

neither of you lets go. your pulse races beneath his fingertips. and judging by the way his eyes flick toward your mouth—he notices. the tension feels unbearable now: heavy, warm.

weeks of almost, almost kisses, actual kisses, almost confessions, almost touching.

until finally, you carefully place your free hand against his shoulder just to steady yourself. nothing more. nothing less. but the second you do, Hollis exhales slowly. like that tiny touch affected him way more than it should have. somehow, it affects you too.

neither of you says anything because if either of you speaks right now, you’re pretty sure the entire situation gets significantly worse. the room falls quiet, too quiet. your hand is still resting lightly against his shoulder. his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. neither of you has moved. neither of you seems interested in moving either. the tension feels ridiculous now, like it has its own heartbeat. you swallow, immediately wishing you hadn’t because Hollis notices. and of course, he does. his eyes flick down briefly, then back up.

your stomach drops, “…we should probably go.”the words come out weaker than intended.

Hollis doesn’t answer right away. which is your first problem. your second problem is that he’s still looking at you, “…probably.” he makes absolutely no effort to let go.

you stare at him. he stares back, “…Hollis.”

“yeah?”

“we have weigh-in.”

“i know.”

“we should leave.”

“i know.”

the fact he keeps agreeing while doing absolutely nothing about it makes you want to laugh. or scream. maybe both. you shake your head, trying to ignore the way his thumb shifts once against your wrist. “you’re being difficult.”

a corner of his mouth lifts, “you like me difficult.”

your jaw drops, “oh my god.”

his grin gets worse, “you walked right into that one.”

“you are unbelievable.”

“you kissed me first.” the second the words leave his mouth for what feels like the one hundredth time, the entire room changes because now you’re both thinking about it again. the rooftop, the lights, his hand on your waist, the way neither of you wanted to stop.

your heartbeat immediately speeds up, “that’s not fair. and last time i checked you liked it, didn’t you?”

his expression softens, “i know. i don’t know…maybe i’d have to kiss you again to see.” his eyes drift toward your mouth again.

you notice immediately and judging by the way his breathing changes, he doesn’t exactly care that you noticed. the distance between you suddenly feels very, very small. “Hollis…” your voice comes out quieter now. a warning, maybe?a plea, definitely. his gaze finally lifts back to yours. for a second, you genuinely think he’s going to kiss you. not because he’s cocky, nor because he’s impulsive, but because he wants to. the realization hits hard.

he steps forward slightly, barely an inch. your pulse jumps and then you place your hand flat against the center of his chest, stopping him. not pushing him, if anything you probably would’ve let it continue.

immediately his eyes drop to your hand, then back up.

“we have to go.” the words come out breathless.

Hollis closes his eyes for half a second like he’s physically restraining himself. when he opens them again, he’s giving you a small smile. completely gone for you, “…yeah.” a beat passes.“…you’re really committed to this whole ‘after the fight’ thing.”

you try not to smile but fail, “very.”

he lets out a quiet laugh through his nose and shakes his head once before he lets go of your wrist. the loss of contact feels immediate. deep down, that bothers both of you. you take a step back, trying to remember how breathing works.

Hollis stands and runs a hand through his hair before pointing toward the door, “c’mon.”

you raise an eyebrow, “that’s it?”

“what?”

“you’re just giving up?”

his laugh is immediate, “trust me.” his eyes meet yours slowly. “i’m definitely not giving up.”

your stomach gets butterflies. before he can make things worse, you immediately grab the door handle, “weigh-in.”

“right.”

you open the door and as you walk out, you hear him mutter behind you—“…worth a shot.”which makes you smile all the way down the hallway.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

the drive to the weigh-in is loud. not because of your group, everything outside is what’s causing all the commotion. every red light seems to have fans standing nearby, every block has posters, every turn has somebody holding a phone up. the closer you get—the worse it gets.

you sit beside Marcus in the van. phone in hand and another coffee balanced carefully between your knees. across from you, Ryan is staring dramatically out the window, “i miss food.”

nobody responds. a beat passes, “i really miss food.” still nothing.

Nate finally looks up, “we know.”

Ryan sighs heavily, “nobody understands my suffering.”

“you’ve said that seventeen times.”

“it’s because i’m suffering.”

Roman laughs. Marcus pinches the bridge of his nose.

sitting in the car, you realize you don’t feel nervous. not yet at least. you’ve done this before with different fighters, different cities, and different promotions. it’s same process and same chaos.

the second the van pulls up, the cameras start.

flash! flash! flash!

people shout names, security ushers everybody forward, reporters try asking questions before anyone even reaches the building.

the boys immediately get swarmed, “2Hollis!”

“look this way!”

“how are you feeling?”

“Hollis!”

you stay close to Marcus and keep moving. you stay organized and stay out of the shots. you know the drill.

backstage is somehow even crazier since there’s nearly 30 people on site: makeup artists, photographers, publicists, hair stylists, event staff, everybody moving, everybody talking, and everybody needing something.

within minutes, everybody gets pulled in different directions. the boys head off for touch-ups.

you get sent over for hair. a stylist waves you over immediately, “sit.”

you laugh, “yes ma’am.”

the woman immediately starts sectioning your hair while the straightener heats beside her. across the room, Nate is getting powder brushed across his forehead. Ryan is arguing with somebody over chapstick. Roman is taking pictures of himself. nothing unusual.

then there’s Hollis. the stylist working on him already looks tired, which feels impressive because she’s only been working with him for five minutes, “stop moving.”

“i’m literally sitting.”

“your head.”

“my head’s attached to me.”

the stylist closes her eyes.you immediately look away before she catches you laughing. across the room, Hollis catches it—unfortunately. the corner of his mouth twitches slightly. and now he looks far too pleased with himself. you hate that.

the stylist starts fixing his hair again, pushing it back, adjusting it, spraying it into place.

the photographers love it.

click! click! click!

Hollis sits there with a sharp jaw, rings covering his fingers, and a black shirt, looking entirely too comfortable in front of the cameras. which is annoying because he claims to hate this. but somehow, he always photographs ridiculously well.

the stylist steps back after minutes, “there.”

everybody looks. you can’t lie, he looks good. professional and clean, exactly what they wanted.

Hollis reaches over, grabs a black and white bandana, and immediately ties it around his head.

the entire room freezes.

“…”

“…”

the stylist stares. you stare. Nate starts laughing. Ryan starts laughing even harder after seeing nate’s face. Roman tries holding back a laugh seeing what Hollis just did.

“did he just—”

“yep.”

the stylist looks horrified, “Hollis.”

“what?”

“i just fixed your hair.”

“it’s still fixed.”

“no.”

“it is.”

“no.”

“it is.”

the argument continues. the photographers are absolutely loving it.

click! click! click!

now he’s laughing, actually laughing. which always photographs better. a photographer glances toward you. then toward Hollis. then back at you, “can you stand over there for a second?”

you immediately narrow your eyes, “no.”

the photographer laughs, “worth a shot.”

across the room, Hollis looks way too interested in that conversation. you pretend not to notice. he pretends not to notice you pretending.

touch-ups finish as well as hair and wardrobe. photos are ending soon. Hollis has got rid of his pants and now has black boxing trunks on.

the boys gather near the ring setup while more pictures get taken. some serious, some candid, and some absolutely ridiculous like Ryan biting his glove. Roman leans against the ropes. Nate pretends to punch the camera. it’s all typical stuff, the crew sprays water on everybody to make them look sweaty. which somehow turns into another argument, again.

through all of it, you notice something that nobody else does. not the cameras, not the fans, not the media—just you. Hollis keeps checking the time, keeps rolling his shoulders, keeps bouncing his knee whenever he sits down, keeps looking toward the weigh-in stage.

he’s nervous, not visibly and it’s not enough for the people around him to notice. but you know him now and you know exactly what nervous looks like on him.

the cameras see confidence, the crowd sees confidence, the headlines see confidence. you see the pressure. that makes you want to stand a little closer to him than usual.

the photographers are wrapping up. most of the individual shots are finished.the boys have already done the serious pictures, the laughing pictures, the training pictures, and the sponsor pictures. everybody thinks they’re done.

then a photographer suddenly looks around, “one group shot.” collective groaning.

Ryan drops his head back, “no.”

“yes.”

“no.”

“yes.”

Marcus points toward the ring, “get in the ring.”

Ryan obeys immediately. a few minutes later, everybody is positioned around the ropes. Roman leans against one corner, Nate sits on the apron, Ryan pretends he’s not exhausted, and Marcus stands with his arms crossed. the photographer snaps a few pictures.

click! click! click!

as everyone’s getting pictures someone shouts, “where’s Y/n?”

your head immediately lifts, “…why?”

the photographer points toward the ring, “get in there.”

you laugh, “no.”

“yes.”

“why?”

“because you’ve been with these idiots all week.”

Ryan immediately points, “she’s with us now.”

“see? you’re one of them now.”

“i don’t like that.”

“too bad,” the photographer motions again, “come on.”

you sigh before climbing into the ring. you immediately regret it because every single camera turns toward you. the boys are loving this: Roman is already laughing, Nate is smiling, and Ryan is recording. traitors.

you end up standing between Nate and Hollis. the photographer takes one look before immediately stopping, “…actually.”

everybody freezes. uh oh.

he points at Hollis, “you,” then points at you, “you.” your stomach drops. absolutely not. “stand together.”

the room erupts. Ryan and Roman are giggling their heads of and Nate is making this infinitely worse. “oh this is huge,” Nate says looking at the photographer.

“shut up,” you roll your eyes.

the photographer ignores all of it, “closer.”

“no.” you refuse.

“yes.”

eventually, you end up standing beside Hollis—close. but not touching, it’s close enough though.

the photographer lifts the camera then pauses to think, “no.” uh oh.

“look at each other.” the room explodes again.

“no.”

“absolutely not.”

“that’s crazy,” Ryan is crying, actually crying from tears of laughter.

the photographer doesn’t care, “do it.”

you look over. Hollis looks over. immediately, the room gets quieter because the joke disappears for a second. you meet his eyes and suddenly everybody remembers—you actually like each other.

the photographer sees it immediately.

click!

your expression softens without meaning to and Hollis looks calmer than he has all day. neither of you notices.

click! click! click!

“perfect,” the photographer lowers the camera and starts scrolling through the pictures then he stops, “…oh.”

the room quiets, “what’s wrong?” Ryan asks.

the photographer turns the screen around. everybody looks snd starts laughing. the picture is ridiculous: not romantic, not obvious, nothing like that. Hollis is standing beside you, black and white bandana tied around his head, hands in his pockets, looking intimidating as hell. and you’re standing next to him with your arms crossed, looking completely unbothered.

it looks like; you’re both about to walk into a title fight together, you’ve been a team for years, and nobody should talk to either of you.

Ryan immediately points, “that looks like an album cover.”

Roman shakes his head, “no seriously.”

Nate nods, “that’s actually hard.”

the photographer nods, “that’s getting posted.”

you look at the photo then at Hollis then back at the photo. it looks really good, unfortunately and Hollis looks very attractive.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

the backstage hallway feels smaller than it did an hour ago. maybe because everybody’s finally here. there’s all kinds of people moving in every direction, voices bouncing off the walls, and cameras already flashing.

you stand beside Marcus with your arms folded loosely, your phone tucked into your back pocket, trying not to get run over by anybody carrying equipment. the closer it gets to eleven, the more the energy changes. the joking disappears and Ryan looks more gloomy

Nate notices it too, “you okay?”

Ryan looks up, “i haven’t eaten real food in like twenty-four hours.”

“…fair.”

across the room, Hollis is sitting in a folding chair with his elbows resting on his knees, head down, completely focused. a stylist makes one final adjustment to his shirt, another person fixes something with his chain.

a photographer snaps a few pictures.

click! click! click!

Hollis looks seconds away from telling everybody to leave him alone. you smile slightly, some things never change.

then Marcus claps his hands once, “five minutes.”

immediately everybody moves, the boys stand, security starts directing traffic, and event staff begins guiding the fighters toward the stage entrance. your stomach twists a little, the realization has hit. you glance over and immediately stop.

Hollis is holding something. white.

your eyes narrow, “…no.”

the corner of his mouth twitches. the white lucha libre mask. the same one from the lucha libre fight you guys watched—the one you picked.

Ryan loses it, “oh my god.”

Roman doubles over laughing.

Nate points, “he’s actually doing it.”

Marcus pinches the bridge of his nose, “Hollis.”

“what?”

“no.”

“too late.”

“it’s a weigh-in.”

“it’s cultural appreciation.”

“it’s not.”

“it is.”

“it isn’t.”

Hollis puts the mask on anyway, the boys immediately start recording. the second the mask settles into place, the room erupts. everybody laughing, filming, taking pictures, except you. how he looks in the mask is kinda cool. which is annoying—very annoying.

then the stage manager points, “you’re up.”

everything goes quiet for a second.

Hollis looks toward the stage entrance, takes one slow breath then starts walking. the boys follow, Marcus follows, you follow.

the second Hollis steps onto the stage, the crowd immediately gets louder: phones go up, cameras start flashing, people shout his name.

the white lucha libre mask definitely isn’t helping. if anything, it’s making people lose their minds even more, “2Hollis!”

“Hollis over here!”

“look this way!”

flash! flash! flash!

the announcer is already laughing, “still committed to the mask, huh?”

Hollis shrugs, “i paid for it.”

the crowd laughs.

somewhere behind you—Ryan is holding back at laugh, Marcus looks exhausted, Nate is recording, and Roman is recording Nate recording.

Hollis reaches up and pulls the mask off. the crowd immediately cheers. and of course, instead of taking his shirt off normally, he pauses for a second. he looks directly at one of the cameras.

you already know, “oh my god.” beside you, Marcus sighs because he knows too.

Hollis grabs the bottom of his shirt, pulls it off, then immediately flexes. full double-bicep pose. for absolutely no reason.

the crowd loses it: screaming, laughing, and cheering.

“nooooo,” Ryan nearly falls over.

“my culture’s got him acting like this,” Roman holds back a smile.

Nate is recording the entire thing, “that’s my goat.”

“his opponent is right there.”

“and?”

meanwhile, the photographers are loving it.

click! click! click.

unfortunately, he actually looks good. which makes it worse, way worse. you physically look away, trying not to smile. and that’s exactly when Hollis notices you. his grin immediately gets bigger. you point toward the scale, “get on there.”

he laughs. then finally obeys. shoes off. shorts off. and now he’s moving onto the scale. he’s professional again. for about ten seconds.

the official leans forward, checks the number, then nods, “one eighty-five,” the announcer repeats it. the crowd cheers again. and done.

Hollis flexes one arm again, just to be annoying. the crowd erupts.

Marcus closes his eyes, “i trained him for months…for this.” he blinks as he

standing off to the side, watching the cameras flash, watching the crowd scream, watching Hollis act like the biggest menace in Mexico City, you can’t stop smiling. despite all the pressure, despite tomorrow’s fight, despite everything hanging over his head, he’s still him. that’s probably why everybody loves him.

the announcer gestures toward the opposite side of the stage, “let’s bring out Jace.”

the cheers settle into something different, their more quieter and curious. you’re not sure if it’s just because Jace is barley starting to make a name for himself but, you watch.

a new song echoes through the speakers as Jace steps onto the stage with no mask and no grin. a black hoodie is pulled over his head. his eyes stay forward locked on the scale.

click! click! click!

he doesn’t acknowledge a single camera. you watch from the side as he peels the hoodie over his head, revealing months of training carved into every muscle. no showmanship. no flexing. he simply steps onto the scale.

the official glances down, checks the number twice then nods, “one eighty-five.”

the crowd applauds.

Jace steps off without celebrating. without saying a word. he grabs his hoodie again, rolling his shoulders once before finally lifting his eyes.

for the first time since walking onto the stage—he looks toward Hollis.

the arena seems to quiet for half a second. Hollis doesn’t have his grin anymore. he looks like the one fighter no one could say anything to again. Hollis and Jace are staring at each other now, neither of them smiles and neither of them looks away. the fight suddenly feels a lot closer looking at both of them.

Jace is older, bigger, different, but familiar enough. familiar enough that memories try creeping back in. you shove them away immediately. today isn’t about any of that. today is about Hollis.

the two fighters meet in the center. face-to-face. close enough to touch, close enough that security immediately shifts forward.

the crowd goes insane.

flash! flash! flash!

photographers shout over one another. reporters lean forward. everybody tries to capture the moment.

Jace says something, you can’t hear it. Hollis answers, you can’t hear that either. but neither of them looks happy. the tension is immediate. thick. electric. the crowd loves it.

then, for one second, Hollis glances away briefly. his eyes find you immediately standing beside Marcus. watching. waiting. you don’t even think. you give him a smile. small. steady. then mouth the words: “you’re gonna do great.” that’s it. nothing dramatic. nothing anybody else notices. just four words. but you watch something change instantly. his shoulders loosen a little. the tightness in his jaw disappears. for the first time all day, he smiles, a genuine smile. it’s small, barely there, but its real. then he looks back at Jace, he looks ready. really ready.

standing there beside the stage, with cameras flashing, thousands of people watching, and tomorrow’s fight hanging over everybody, you realize something. you believe he’s going to win too.

thirty seconds pass. instead, everybody keeps pushing for more photos.

“turn this way!”

“look over here!”

“one more!”

the cameras won’t stop.

Jace and Hollis stand nose-to-nose. security inches closer just in case. the crowd loves all of it. everybody wants a viral moment. everybody wants somebody to shove somebody.neither of them does.

Jace smirks first, “you talk more online than you do in person.”

the crowd immediately reacts. a few laughs. a few cheers.

Hollis barely blinks, “still showed up though.”

the crowd gets louder. Jace’s jaw shifts slightly, not angry just competitive. the kind of look fighters get when they’ve been imagining this moment for months.

another round of camera flashes. then something changes. you notice it first. Jace’s eyes move. not toward the cameras. not toward Marcus. toward you for half a second. that’s all. his expression shifts. he’s not smiling. he’s not angry. he looks surprised. like he wasn’t expecting to see you here. like seeing you suddenly pulled him somewhere else entirely. back to home, that gym, to years ago. your stomach twists. because you recognize that look. the kind of look people get when they haven’t seen someone important in years.

Jace stares for a second too long. then says quietly, almost to himself, “…wow.”

you don’t think Hollis hears it. unfortunately, he does. his eyes flick toward you briefly then back to Jace, immediately noticing.

fighters notice everything, especially when they’re already wound this tight. Jace shakes his he tilts his head slightly, still looking at you. he finally speaks, “didn’t think i’d see you here.”

the crowd doesn’t hear it. the cameras don’t hear it. only the people closest which is you, Hollis, and Marcus.

you meet his eyes without hesitation, “it’s my job.” your tone is even. professional and nothing more.

Jace gives a small nod, almost sad then looks away first. the moment ends just like that. but not before Hollis catches it. not before Hollis notices the familiarity. not before Hollis notices that Jace looked at you differently than everybody else in the room.

the announcer steps between them. the face-off ends. security relaxes. the crowd cheers. everybody starts moving again.

but as Hollis turns away, his shoulder brushes Jace’s. he says something quietly, low enough that nobody else hears. except Jace.

“how do you know her?”

Jace looks at him. a long second passes, “we grew up together.” that’s it. no explanation. no details. just enough to make Hollis think about it and just enough to make him glance across the stage toward you again. now, your home town feels a lot closer than it did nights ago. the second the face-off ends, everything becomes chaos again. security moves in. photographers start shouting. event staff begins herding people offstage. everyone talking over everyone else.

Marcus is immediately pulled away by somebody from the promotion, Ryan is asking where food is, Nate is still talking about the lucha mask, Roman is trying to steal Nate’s phone. you follow behind the group toward the backstage hallway, trying not to get separated and trying not to get hit by a camera. the adrenaline from the face-off is still buzzing through you. you glance down at your phone briefly then back up. and immediately notice something.

Hollis is quiet, very quiet. which is strange because usually after media events, he’s impossible. before fully committing to him as a fighter you’ve went though all of his fights. he’s very cocky, annoying, and loud after these kinds of things. today, he’s done nothing. he just keeps walking with his jaw tight, hands shoved into his pockets, staring straight ahead.

you frown, “…you okay?” no answer. you blink, “…Hollis?”

finally, he looks over, “what?”

yep. something’s wrong. you immediately know it, “you’re being weird.”

“thanks.”

“you’re welcome,” he rolls his eyes.

you walk beside him for a few seconds, trying to figure it out because he’s definitely upset. you just don’t know why. eventually, you bump his shoulder lightly, “seriously.”

he sighs. looks away. looks back, “how long have you known him?” he asks.

you blink, “Jace?”

“yeah.”

oh? you stare at him for a second confused, “since i was like eight.”

his expression immediately changes into worse. which is somehow funny, “…eight?”

“yeah,” you laugh softly, “our dads worked together.” he doesn’t say anything. which makes you laugh harder. now you’re starting to understand, “…are you jealous?”

his head snaps toward you, “what?”

“you are.”

“i’m not.” he sounds offended, which is basically confirmation.

you grin, “Hollis.”

“i’m literally fighting tomorrow.”

“okay?”

“i’m not worried about Jace.”

“okay.”

“i’m not.”

you nod dramatically, “right.”

“stop.”

you laugh. the tension disappears for a moment until he speaks again, “…he looked at you weird.” he says quietly, not wanting anyone else to hear.

that catches you off guard. your smile fades slightly. you know exactly what he means. the look, the recognition, the history. you glance down briefly, “it’s complicated.”

Hollis immediately notices. he doesn’t look jealous anymore. he looks concerned which is somehow worse, “did he do something to you?”

your eyes lift, meeting his. you shake your head, “no.” partially true. “he was just there for the time being.”

Hollis studies you carefully then nods once like he understands. or at least understands enough. the hallway falls quiet for a moment. people continue rushing around you, staff yelling, camera flashes, doors opening and closing, but somehow, it feels like it’s just the two of you.

then Hollis nudges your shoulder lightly, “for the record.”

you glance over, “hm?”

he shrugs, trying—and failing—to sound casual, “i still don’t like him.”

you immediately burst out laughing, “Hollis.”

“what?”

“you’ve spoken to him for thirty seconds.”

“long enough.”

you shake your head, smiling despite yourself. he smiles with you too. tomorrow he’s fighting Jace. today he’s just walking beside you, that’s the thing he keeps thinking about.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

the conference room is packed with nearly everyone who’s there’s to promote and make some good money out of it. rows of chairs filled with reporters. cameras pointed toward the stage. lights bright enough to make everyone’s eyes hurt.

Hollis sits behind the table, one hand is wrapped around a water bottle. he’s looking significantly calmer than he did during the face-off, at least on the outside. Jace sits a few seats away. neither of them looking at each other.

you stay off to the side with Marcus. you’ve done this before, already knowing the routine. the fighters sit.

the moderator starts first, “tomorrow is one of the biggest fights of the year.” the crowd applauds. a few cameras flash. then the questions begin.

a reporter points toward Hollis, “Hollis, you've had an incredible year: multiple wins, growing audience, and big sponsorships. what do you think changed for you?”

Hollis leans back slightly. thinking. he then shrugs, “i stopped caring about being liked.”

the room laughs, even Marcus sighs because of course that's his answer.

but Hollis continues, “no seriously. when you're constantly trying to make everybody happy, you fight worse.”

a few reporters nod. that answer actually makes sense. another hand goes up, “what has been the hardest part of preparing for this fight?”

this time Hollis doesn't answer immediately.

you notice that. usually, he always has an answer. always. instead, he stares down at the table for a second, “the noise.” the room quiets slightly, “the noise?” Hollis nods, “everybody wants something, everybody has opinions, everybody thinks they know how you're supposed to do things,” a pause, “and after a while it gets loud.” the room goes quieter because he isn't joking.

for a second, you see exactly what you saw on the rooftop. not the celebrity or fighter. just a tired guy trying to carry way too much at once.

the moderator points toward another reporter, “what would a win tomorrow mean to you?”

this one makes him smile faintly, “peace.”

the crowd laughs but he isn't kidding, you can tell.

another question, this time for Jace. “do you think Hollis is overlooking you?”

Jace immediately shakes his head, “no. he'd be stupid if he did.” the room reacts with a few whistles and a few laughs.

the moderator grins, “so you're expecting a war?”

Jace smirks, “i'm expecting a fight.” the tension immediately rises again.

then the question nobody wants arrives. a reporter in the second row raises her hand, “question for Hollis.” uh oh, you know that tone, everybody knows that tone. the reporter glances down at her notes. then says, “there's been a lot of attention online surrounding members of your team this week.” your stomach drops immediately, oh no. Marcus closes his eyes, Ryan starts coughing, and Nate physically turns away because they all know where this is going. the reporter continues, “particularly your cut woman.” oh my god. the room immediately wakes up because people are nosy. a few cameras turn toward you, which you hate. the reporter smiles politely, “we've seen a lot of photos of you two together this week.” oh, this is terrible. absolutely terrible. “what has it been like working together?” you want to disappear, immediately.

across the room, Marcus looks like he's preparing for prison, Ryan is trying not to laugh, Nate absolutely is laughing.

Hollis glances toward you. just once. a quick look, you catch it. he looks back at the reporter calmly, “she's good at her job.” the reporter waits, clearly expecting more.

Hollis notices unfortunately. then adds, “probably one of the best people i've worked with.” your face immediately gets warm, that's worse, much worse.

the reporter smiles, “that's all?” the room laughs. you hate everybody Hollis smirks then takes a drink of water, “that's all you're getting.”

the crowd erupts because of course it does. and somewhere beside you, Marcus mutters, “thank god.” but the second the conference moves on, you accidentally glance toward Hollis and immediately regret it because he's already looking at you before looking away again.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

the second the press conference ends, everyone is starving. absolutely starving.

Ryan is the first one out the door, “i swear if somebody makes me answer one more question before i eat—”

“you'll what?” Nate asks.

“i don't know, i'll cry.”

Roman laughs, “you were gonna cry anyway.”

“i was.”

Marcus shakes his head, “you all act like you've never made weight before.”

“we haven't,” Ryan mumbles dramatically, “you've made weight three times.”

“i forgot.”

“you forgot last month?”

“…yeah.”

Marcus sighs hopeless, completely hopeless.

by the time everyone gets back to the hotel restaurant, plates are already waiting: chicken, rice, vegetables, fruit, water, and electrolytes.

nobody even bothers talking at first, they're eating too fast.

Nate points his fork toward Ryan, “slow down.”

Ryan doesn't even look up, “no thanks.”

“you can.”

“i can't.”

you laugh into your water bottle, “i've never seen people so excited over grilled chicken.”

Roman looks offended, “don't disrespect the post weigh-in chicken.”

Marcus nods once, “that’s true.”

you raise your hands, “my apologies. i didn't realize.”

“it shows,” the table laughs, even Hollis. he's sitting across from you this time. still quieter than usual. but every once in a while, you catch him looking at you. not enough for anyone else to notice, just enough for you to notice.

eventually, once everyone has actually eaten, Nate leans back in his chair, “can i ask something?”

you nod, “sure.”

he points his fork toward you, “that guy. Jace.”

your stomach immediately knows where this is going, “…yeah?”

“you said you knew him.”

“i do.”

Ryan looks up, “from where?”

you glance down at your plate for a second, “back home.”

Roman furrows his brows, “like… hometown knew him?”

you nod, “pretty much.” a beat passes, “he's Naomi's brother.”

the table goes quiet. Nate blinks, “…wait.”

Ryan blinks, “Naomi?”

Marcus pinches the bridge of his nose, “oh no.”

Roman slowly looks between everyone, “…who's Naomi?”

you raise your eyebrow, literally hours early they all were nosy about it. “my old best friend.”

Roman's expression softens immediately, “oh.”

Nate sits forward, “that's the one you told me about?”

you nod once.

“the one you fought?”

another nod.

Ryan lets out a quiet, “damn.” nobody jokes for a second. the realization settles over the table. Hollis hasn't said a word, not one. he's just watching and listening to you.

you shrug lightly, “it was a long time ago.”

Marcus speaks up gently, “does he know?”

you know exactly what he means. you shake your head, “i don't think so. and i'd like to keep it that way.”

Nate tilts his head, “you don't want him knowing you're here?”

“it's not that,” you think for a moment, “i just think it’s pretty pointless bringing up the past. it’s not high school anymore.”

that earns a few understanding nods. Ryan quietly points at Hollis, “well…tomorrow he's getting punched.”

Hollis finally looks up, “by me.”

Ryan grins, “exactly.”

the tension finally breaks. you laugh, “so supportive.”

“i'm incredibly supportive.”

Nate raises his water bottle, “to Hollis winning.”

everyone lifts theirs, “to Hollis winning.” plastic bottles clink together. for a moment, it feels strangely normal. just a group eating lunch before a big day. there isn’t any instructions being asked, cameras getting shoved in one’s face, and no directions to follow. just you guys. across the table, Hollis catches your eye again. this time, he doesn't look away. he just gives you the smallest nod. a silent promise. i've got this.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

hollis

your alarm never gets the chance to go off. you’re already awake. you don’t remember the last time you actually slept through the night before a fight, maybe never. you sit on the edge of the hotel bed for a while. elbows on your knees. hands clasped together, listening. the hotel is almost silent. usually by now you’d hear Ryan dropping something. Roman laughing. Nate blasting music through the wall.

today…nothing. everyone’s awake. nobody feels like talking yet. your gaze drifts toward your phone on the nightstand. you tell yourself you’re checking the time. instead, your thumb unlocks the screen.

instagram. your search history is…not your proudest moment. Jace. Jace boxing. Jace highlights. Jace interview. Jace…Naomi.

your jaw tightens. last night—after seeing him, after everything she told you, after she’d gone back to her room…after you’d spent way too long staring at the ceiling…

you’d looked them up. not because of the fight, because of her. you wanted to know what her life looked like before all of this. before Mexico City. before you. Naomi’s page wasn’t hard to find. pictures from years ago: high school, the gym, amateur tournaments, old team photos, then—one picture stops you. Y/n. standing beside Naomi. both of them younger, boxing gloves slung over their shoulders, laughing at something outside the frame, nobody posing, nobody looking at the camera, just…happy. you stare at it longer than you mean to. it’s weird. you’ve only known her for three weeks. but somehow it’s hard to picture that girl becoming the one who apologizes for taking phone calls because she’s worried she’s inconveniencing people. hard to picture someone looking at her and deciding she wasn’t enough.

your chest feels tight. you lock your phone, “…yeah.” you rub both hands over your face, “…i’m actually fucked.” this isn’t about the fight anymore. you know how to fight, you know nerves and the pressure. what you don’t know…is why the thought of one girl waiting outside the cage is making your heart race more than standing across from Jace ever has. that’s new. and it’s terrifying.

a knock sounds at the door.

tap! tap! tap!

your head lifts, “…come in.”

the door opens slowly. Y/n peeks her head inside, “…decent?”

despite everything, you laugh. “barely.”

she rolls her eyes before stepping inside, already dressed: credential hanging around her neck, medical bag over one shoulder, she somehow already looks like she’s been awake for hours. “good morning, Hollis.” she tells you softly.

“morning.” the room goes quiet again. not awkward. it’s just a different feeling knowing there’s something going on between the two of you. everything hangs there between you.

she clears her throat, “…how’d you sleep?”

you snort, “that’s funny.”

“so not well.”

“not even a little.”

she nods like she expected that answer, “figured.” she sets her bag on the desk before walking over, “sit.”

you don’t question it anymore. you just sit on the edge of the bed. she steps between your knees without thinking, which really isn’t helping the whole ‘stay calm before your biggest fight’ thing. she gently tilts your chin toward the window checking the bruise beneath your eye, “does this hurt?”

“a little.”

she presses around it carefully, “this?”

“less.”

“good.” she moves to the cut near your eyebrow. studying it with the same concentration she always has. she furrows her brows every time she thinks. you’ve started noticing that, probably because you’ve started noticing everything “what?” she asks.

you blink, “…nothing.”

she looks up immediately, “that’s a lie.”

“maybe.”

a tiny smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, “you’re impossible.”

“you still like me.” the words leave before your brain catches them.

she freezes for half a second then goes right back to checking your eyebrow, “…cocky.”

“…was that a no?”

she laughs quietly, “hold still.”

not a no. your grin appears before you can stop it.

she notices, “don’t smile.”

“can’t.”

she sighs, “you’re making my job harder.”

“thought i was making it more fun.”

she shakes her head, “fight day and you’re still annoying.”

“it’s part of the brand.”

“…unfortunately.” she gives the side of your head one light pat, “you’re good.” she steps back. the room somehow feels colder immediately,

“no new injuries.”

“disappointing.”

“don’t test me.” she points a finger at you. “your only job today is to listen to Marcus, stay sharp…” she pauses. “…and come back to me without making me stitch your face together.”

the teasing disappears from your face, “…yeah?”

she nods once, “yeah.”

there’s something about the way she says it. quiet and certain. like she already expects to be waiting for you after it’s over. for some reason…that settles something inside your chest. another knock interrupts the moment.

knock! knock! knock!

Roman’s voice comes through the door, “breakfast!”

Ryan follows immediately, “if nobody eats i’m stealing everyone’s pancakes.”

Nate sighs, “you literally don’t have to make weight anymore.”

“doesn’t mean i can’t dream.”

Y/n laughs under her breath, “…come on.”

the breakfast room feels…wrong. everyone’s here: Marcus, Roman, Nate, Ryan, you, and Y/n.

coffee pours. plates clink softly. someone reaches for toast. and yet…almost nobody talks. Nate is the quietest person in the room, which is honestly unsettling. he stares into his oatmeal, “…i hate fight day.”

Roman nods, “same.”

Nate pokes at his eggs now, “…my stomach’s in knots and i’m not even fighting.”

Marcus finally looks around the table, “good.”

everyone looks at him, “means you understand what’s at stake.” silence settles again. not uncomfortable. focused. everybody’s feeling it. the pressure. the anticipation. the countdown.

without saying anything, Y/n reaches over and slides another bottle of water toward you. you glance at her.

she doesn’t even look up, “drink.”

you smile to yourself,

“yes, ma’am.”

she finally looks over, “don’t start.”

you twist the cap open anyway. because if she’s asking—you’re listening. that’s the easiest thing you’ll do all day.

9:19 am

the sound of jump ropes hitting the floor.

tap. tap. tap.

the mirrors lining the walls reflect everyone moving through the morning routine. nothing intense, just enough to wake their bodies up. Marcus wasn’t about to let anybody do anything stupid on fight day. “no sparring,” he’d reminded them three separate times already.

so instead—shadowboxing, stretching., mobility work, and a little jump rope to keep everything loose.

you stand off to the side with your medical bag already open, watching more than participating. it’s habit. your eyes move between all four of them automatically.

Ryan is suffering through stretching, “i swear my hamstrings are shorter today.”

Roman doesn’t even look at him, “they’re the same hamstrings.”

“they feel different.”

Nate snorts, “you complain before you’ve even started.”

Ryan points at him, “i know, it’s typically you that’s starting off with the complaining..”

marcus lets out the smallest laugh, “you done?”

Ryan sighs, “…yeah.”

across the room—Hollis hasn’t said a word, not one. he’s already wrapped in sweat from the jump rope, breathing steadily as he moves without rushing. no showing off. no trying to make everybody laugh. no spinning the rope behind his back because he was bored. he’s focused. his eyes stay ahead. every movement controlled.

tap. tap. tap.

Marcus watches him for another second before nodding toward the ring, “three rounds.”

Hollis sets the rope down, simply nods. “got it.” no joke. no grin. nothing.

Nate watches him walk away before quietly leaning toward Ryan, “…he’s scary quiet.”

Ryan follows hollis with his eyes, “yeah…should we be worried?”

Marcus answers without looking away from the ring, “no.” a beat. “this is exactly how i wanted him.”

Hollis steps inside the ropes. no opponent. just space. he rolls his shoulders once. then starts shadowboxing. everything looks sharp. every jab snaps back to guard. every slip is precise. every pivot is clean. he’s not throwing punches to impress anyone. he’s visualizing.

jab. step. slip. cross. pivot.

again. again. again.

Marcus walks slowly around the outside of the ring, “don’t chase him.”

Hollis nods once.

“make him come to you.”

another nod.

“Jace likes loading up on the right hand.”

jab.

“he drops his left after combinations.”

slip.

“punish it.”

cross.

Marcus smiles faintly, “there you go.”

you don’t even realize you’ve stopped looking at everyone else. your attention stays on Hollis. he looks…different today. he doesn’t look nervous or angry. he looks very focused like every ounce of energy he has is being saved for tonight.

twenty minutes later— Marcus claps his hands once, “that’s enough.”

Hollis immediately steps out of the ring. no arguing. no asking for another round. he grabs the towel hanging over the ropes and wipes the sweat from the back of his neck. you walk over before he even asks, “hands.” he holds them out automatically. you smile to yourself. somehow, this has become routine.

he sits down on the edge of the ring while you kneel in front of him, carefully peeling away the loose wraps from earlier. his hands are warm. his knuckles are already slightly pink from the movement.

“no soreness?” you ask, checking over each finger.

“no.”

you press lightly against the back of his right hand, “this?”

“feels fine.”

“wrist?”

“good.”

you nod once before beginning to wrap his hands again. the room fades into background noise. the fabric slides neatly between his fingers. around the thumb. across the knuckles. around the wrist methodical. careful. you tug lightly against the finished wrap, “too tight?”

he flexes his hand once, “…perfect.” without thinking, he looks down at you. you don’t notice. you’re already starting on the other hand.

across the room—Ryan quietly elbows Nate, “dude.”

“what?”

“they’ve got a whole system.”

Nate watches the two of you for a second before smiling to himself, “yeah.”

Roman glances over, “you think they even realize it?”

Ryan immediately answers, “nope.”

Marcus hears every word. he doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head once. he checks the time, “alright.”

his voice cuts through the room, “everybody upstairs.” he looks directly at hollis. “next time you throw a punch…” a pause. “it’s for real.”

the room falls quiet again. nobody jokes after that.

“alright.” he claps his hands once. “everybody upstairs.”

almost immediately, the room comes back to life.

Ryan sighs, “i’m showering for at least forty-five minutes.”

Roman rolls his eyes, already grabbing his gym bag.

Nate tosses his towel over his shoulder, “breakfast round two guys?”

Ryan points at him, “shit, i’m down.”

10:00 am

the boys begin filing out one by one, still talking over each other as they disappear into the hallway. Marcus follows behind them, stopping in the doorway. “you two coming?”

you finish zipping your medical bag, “in a second.”

Marcus nods once, “five minutes.” then he’s gone. the door clicks shut.

the gym suddenly feels too quiet. you glance toward Hollis. he’s still sitting on the edge of the ring, elbows resting on his knees. you smile faintly, “you know, you can stand.”

“i know.”

“you’re choosing not to?”

“yeah.”

you shake your head, amused. “you’re unbelievable.”

“i’ve been told.”

you sling your bag over your shoulder, “come on.”

he doesn’t move. instead, he watches you. “stay for a minute.” the words are quiet, so quiet you almost wonder if you imagined them.

you blink, “…what?”

he shrugs one shoulder. “just…” his eyes drift down to the floor for a second. “…one minute.” not demanding. not teasing. just asking.

something in your expression softens immediately. you set your bag back on the floor, “one minute.”

a tiny smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, “there you go.”

you walk over and lean against the ring beside him. neither of you says anything at first. the silence isn’t awkward anymore, it’s become familiar. comfortable. you can hear the air conditioner humming somewhere overhead. the faint echo of people talking in the hotel hallway outside. Hollis lets out a slow breath, “i hate this part.”

you glance down at him, “the waiting?”

he nods, “the waiting.” a beat. “i’d rather already be in the ring.”

“most fighters would.”

“i keep thinking…” he trails off. you don’t rush him. “…if i can just get through the walkout, i’m good.”

you nod slowly, “that’s normal.”

“you think?”

“i know.”

he looks over at you, “you always sound so sure.”

you smile a little, “it’s my job.”

“no.” he shakes his head. “that’s just you.”

the words catch you off guard. before you can answer, both of your phones buzz almost at the same time. you pull yours out first. your lock screen fills instantly.

Mom: good luck today. proud of you.

another. instagram notifications. people reposting yesterday’s weigh-in. tagged photos. stories. your phone keeps vibrating.

across from you, Hollis looks down at his own. dozens. texts. missed calls. good luck messages. promoters. sponsors. his family. the fight poster has already been posted again. tonight. his face. Jace’s face. one last countdown.

you both sit there for another second, staring at your screens. the reality of the day settles over you all at once. no more waiting, no more interviews, no more photos. in a few hours…he’s getting into a ring.

you quietly lock your phone, “so…” you look over at him. “one minute’s up.”

he sighs dramatically, “i was hoping you wouldn’t count.”

“i always count.”

“i know.”

he finally pushes himself to his feet. standing close enough that your shoulders almost brush. for a brief second, neither of you moves. then you lightly smooth an invisible wrinkle from the front of his hoodie without even thinking, “there.”

he looks down at where your fingers had been. then back at you, “thanks.”

you smile, “come on.” he follows you out without asking you to stay again.

10:17 a.m.

back at the hotel. the floor is strangely quiet. hours ago, the hallways had been full of trainers, photographers, and staff moving in every direction. now—almost every door is shut, everybody disappeared.

Ryan announces he’s “hibernating until violence.” Nate heads back to their room, phone already pressed to his ear before the elevator doors even close, “…hi, mom.”

Roman disappears with his headphones around his neck, muttering something about needing “couple of hours of silence.”

Marcus is gone almost immediately. meetings. promoters. officials. there was always something.

you head straight for your room. the second the door clicks shut behind you, work takes over. your medical bag lands carefully on the desk. you unzip it. one by one, everything comes out: fresh gauze, athletic tape, petroleum jelly, adhesive strips, sterile pads, cotton swabs, scissors, gloves, and ice packs. you inspect every single item. replace what needs replacing. restock what you’ve used throughout the week. then you open your notebook. every fighter gets notes. Hollis’ page has become the thickest. you scan over your own handwriting.

left eyebrow - keep pressure light if reopened. right cheek - bruising from tuesday sparring. neck- still tender (?) monitor after rounds.

you pause for a second then write one more reminder.

stay calm.

you stare at it. a small smile appears, “that’s for me.” you close the notebook.

across the hotel, Hollis is trying to sleep. trying. the curtains are closed. the room is cool. his phone is face down on the nightstand. everything should make sleeping easy. instead—his eyes stay fixed on the ceiling. he rolls onto one side, closes his eyes. nothing. back onto his back. still nothing. he lets out a slow breath through his nose, “…seriously?” he checks the clock.

10:46 am

he’d been lying there for almost thirty minutes. he reaches for his phone and immediately regrets it. he’s seeing more: fight posters, messages, good luck texts, predictions, highlights, and people arguing in the comments about tonight. he locks the screen again. not helping. he tosses the phone onto the pillow beside him and stares at the ceiling.

his mind drifts anyway. not to jace, not to strategy, not even to the fight. instead—you. the way you’d automatically reached for his hands that morning. the way you’d checked every knuckle without him having to ask. the quiet confidence in your voice. you’ve done this hundreds of times.

he smiles to himself, “…yeah.” then he remembers something else. your laugh. the rooftop. the tiny kiss you’d pressed against his cheek before saying goodnight. his hand lifts almost unconsciously, fingertips brushing the same spot. he huffs out a quiet laugh, “fuck.”there it is. the thought he’d been avoiding for days. weeks, maybe. he likes you. not because the week has been emotional. not because you’re around all the time. not because the media won’t stop putting cameras in your faces. he likes you because—when you’re around…everything gets quieter. the waiting doesn’t feel so long. the pressure doesn’t feel so heavy. he feels…normal—for the first time in years.he closes his eyes again. this time, not to sleep. just to think. about your smile, the rooftop, and the promise you’d made.

“you’re not getting another kiss until after the fight you win.”

his lips twitch upward, “guess i’d better win.”

3:45 p.m.

your phone buzzes against the desk.

Marcus: lobby. fifteen minutes.

you stare at the message for a second then exhale, “okay.” you zip your medical bag shut. one last look around the room: phone, credential, notebook, and a water bottle. everything’s there. you slip the strap over your shoulder before stepping into the hallway.

the floor is almost silent. a few staff members walk by with rolling equipment cases. someone from production rushes toward the elevators with a headset pressed against their ear, “main event arrives in twenty.”

you make your way downstairs. the lobby is already filling. Marcus is talking quietly with an event coordinator. Roman stands beside one of the pillars, headphones hanging around his neck. Ryan is slouched across an armchair, “i’m nervous.”

“you’ve said that six times today,” Nate replies.

“i’m serious now.”

“no, you’re dramatic.”

“no i’m not.”

Roman doesn’t even look up, “you’re dehydrated.”

Ryan raises his eyebrows, “that too.”

despite the conversation…their energy is different. nobody’s loud or messing around. everyone keeps checking the time. you glance around instinctively looking for—

“there you are.” you turn. Hollis. dressed comfortable with a gym bag over one shoulder and a bandana already tied around his head. his eyes find yours almost immediately.

you smile, “you slept?”

he shakes his head once, “no.”

“i figured.”

“you?”

“about an hour.”

“liar.”

“a very convincing one.”

the corner of his mouth lifts.

Marcus claps his hands once, “alright.” the room settles immediately. “phones away.” everyone obeys. “no unnecessary media.” another nod. “we stick together from here.” he looks around at each of them. “everybody ready?”

a chorus of quiet answers follows, “yeah.”

“mhm.”

“let’s do it.”

Marcus nods once, “let’s go.”

outside theres a black sprinter van waits beneath the hotel entrance. the moment the doors open—camera shutters explode.

flash! flash! flash.

“Hollis!”

“one picture!”

“look this way!”

“2!”

the barricades lining the sidewalk are already packed. fans lean over the rails with phones raised. security immediately forms around the group. you instinctively move closer to Marcus, not because you’re nervous, but because that’s where you’re supposed to be. it’s become muscle memory.

Hollis walks just ahead of you. he doesn’t acknowledge the cameras. doesn’t wave. doesn’t smile. he’s concentrated now. you notice it immediately. he’s conserving everything, even his energy.

the boys pile into the van one after another. the city rolls past the windows. traffic. murals. street vendors. people walking home from work. the city keeps moving like today isn’t the biggest day of someone else’s life. you glance across the aisle. Hollis is staring out the window. one earbud sits untouched in his hand.

4:28 p.m.

the arena comes into view. your stomach flips. even after years in combat sports…this feeling never changes. the van slows beneath the underground entrance. security is already waiting. doors slide open. immediately—voices. staff. production assistants. officials. security.

“credentials, please.” everyone reaches for the laminated passes hanging around their necks. you hand yours over. the security guard checks your photo. looks at you. then nods, “you’re good.”

only once everyone has been cleared does the group continue deeper into the arena. the sounds begin to change. the echo of footsteps. forklifts moving equipment. crew members testing lights overhead.

somewhere in the distance, music blasts through the speakers before cutting out again.

“mic check. …one, two…”

a giant led screen flickers to life above the arena floor. tonight’s fight card rotates across it. Hollis’ name. Jace’s name.

the main event. you catch Hollis looking at it for half a second. then he looks away.

Marcus notices, “don’t look up.”

Hollis nods, “i wasn’t.”

“you were.”

“little bit.”

Marcus smirks, “i know.” he pushes open a heavy black door. a printed sign is taped across the front. main event — blue corner. Marcus steps aside, “this is us.”

the room inside is simple: benches, a long table, mirrors framed with bright lights, ice buckets, stacks of towels, medical supplies, and equipment bags already waiting.

for the next several hours…this tiny room becomes your entire world. outside, nearly twenty thousand people will eventually fill the arena.inside, it’s just the six of you. and the clock is quietly counting down toward the walkout.

6:41 p.m.

the locker room feels different now. it’s quieter and heavier. outside, the crowd erupts again. another undercard fight. the cheers shake the walls. inside nobody says much. Ryan sits on one of the benches, bouncing his leg uncontrollably. every few seconds, he checks the clock and checks it again. “how’s it only six forty?”

Roman doesn’t answer. he’s already connected his phone to the speaker. he doesn’t play nothing loud. the music is low enough to fill the constant silence.

Nate sits beside the equipment bags, elbows on his knees. he keeps spinning a roll of athletic tape between his fingers.

Marcus notices immediately, “you’re making me nervous.” - “…sorry.”

“you should be.”

Nate laughs once. it comes out smaller than usual.

Hollis is already sitting on the stool. his hoodie is gone now. compression shorts. fight shorts. bare feet planted against the floor. his hands rest loosely on his thighs. waiting.

Marcus pulls another chair over, “you ready?”

Hollis nods once, “yeah.”

Marcus begins laying strips of tape across the table. methodical. quiet. he starts with Hollis’ left wrist. loop after loop, securing the base.

you kneel beside them, already reaching for the gauze. the movement feels automatic. you’ve wrapped hundreds of hands. thousands, maybe. but today, you find yourself paying even closer attention. you carefully lift his left hand into yours. warm. calloused. still carrying faint bruises from earlier in the week.

you begin wrapping around his wrist. smooth. even. not too tight. not too loose. the room fades into the background, it’s just muscle memory now. around the wrist. across the palm. between each finger. back across the knuckles. you test the tension with your thumb, “…too tight?”

Hollis flexes once, “no.”

“any numbness?”

he shakes his head, “no.”

“good.” you continue.

Marcus works in silence beside you, reinforcing the wrist with athletic tape. neither of you has to speak much anymore.

you’ve done this together enough times at the gym back home, you already know each other’s rhythm.

tape. wrap. tape. fold. secure.

another explosion of cheers rattles the hallway from outside.

Ryan looks toward the ceiling, “…that’s gonna be us.”

Roman glances over, “it better be.” nobody laughs. not because it isn’t funny, because everyone is already thinking about the same thing. tonight.

you move to Hollis’ right hand. without thinking—your thumb brushes lightly over one of his knuckles checking for swelling. he watches you quietly.

“…you worried about me?”

you don’t even look up, “a little.”

the answer comes so naturally that you don’t realize you’ve said it until after it leaves your mouth.

the room stays quiet. you continue wrapping. around his wrist. across his palm. you smooth the gauze flat with your fingertips.

“…you’re not usually.”

“i know.” you finally glance up.

his eyes are already on you. soft and steady. the look has become familiar this week. like he’s searching your face for something only you can give him.

you hold his gaze for a second, “it’s fight day.”

a tiny smile pulls at one corner of his mouth, “so that’s my excuse?”

“it’ll do.”

he huffs a quiet laugh, “so if this was a random tuesday…”

“i’d tell you to stop complaining.”

“there she is.”

you shake your head, trying not to hide your own smile, “i liked you better when your neck magically hurt.”

he coughs to cover a laugh, “that only worked once.”

“it really did.”

Marcus doesn’t even look up from the tape, “i knew you were faking.”

Hollis blinks, “you knew?”

Marcus snorts, “you think i’ve been doing this for twenty years and couldn’t tell?”

Nate immediately sits up, “i knew it!”

“you literally believed him,” roman says.

“i was concerned.”

“you were being gullible.”

for the first time in what feels like an hour, the room laughs. the sound fades almost as quickly as it came. you finish the final pass across hollis’ knuckles. then gently take both of his hands. turning them over. checking every angle. you press lightly against each wrap. watching for circulation. his fingers stay warm. good color. good movement. exactly how you want them.

you nod once, “open.”

he spreads his fingers, “close.”

he makes a fist. again. perfect.

you look up, “how’s that feel?”

he slowly flexes both hands then looks at you, “safe.”

the word catches you off guard. because you know he isn’t just talking about the wraps. neither of you says anything.

the arena outside disappears again. the music. the cheering. the countdown. none of it matters. not while he’s looking at you like that.

Marcus tears another strip of tape with his teeth. the sound breaks the moment. he stands, giving each wrist one final inspection before patting Hollis once on the shoulder, “good.”

he checks the clock, “about ninety minutes.”

then he looks at the boys. his voice becomes firmer, “no hero shit.”

Ryan nods. Nate nods. Roman nods. Marcus looks back at Hollis, “listen to your corner.”

“i will.” - “if i tell you to breathe…” “i breathe.” - “if Y/n tells you to sit…” - “i sit.”

you raise an eyebrow, “first smart thing you’ve said all week.”

Hollis smiles, “trying to impress my cutwoman.”

your eyes roll immediately, “you’ve got about ninety minutes left to charm me.”

he leans back slightly on the stool, “i think i’ve got time.”

your heart betrays you with one hard beat. you simply stand, gathering the empty gauze wrappers before he can see the tiny smile threatening to appear. because if you let yourself smile at him now—you aren’t entirely sure you’d be able to stop.

7:34 pm

the first bell rings somewhere beyond the concrete walls. the arena gets loud. the sound rolls through the hallway like thunder. nobody says anything. Ryan looks toward the ceiling, “started.”

Marcus glances at the television mounted in the corner. the live broadcast has already begun. the first undercard fighters circle one another beneath blinding white lights.

the commentators’ voices fill the room quietly, “…and here we go…”

Hollis watches for exactly three seconds. Marcus reaches over. the television goes black, “we don’t watch.”

Hollis nods once, “right.”

“you’ve already got enough going through your head.”

the crowd gets louder again. someone must’ve landed a big shot. even through the thick locker room walls, you can hear it. “ohhhh!”

Nate winces, “that sounded bad.”

Roman glances at the clock, “one fight down.”

Ryan exhales through his nose, “only…” he checks the fight card. …three more.”

nobody likes hearing that. three more fights. three more walkouts. three more winners. three more losers. three more times the crowd will erupt before it’s finally Hollis’ turn.the waiting somehow becomes harder than the fighting itself.

you move quietly around the room, double-checking your supplies for what feels like the tenth time.

“you’ve checked that bag five times.” Hollis tells you.

you zip it shut, “six.”

he smiles faintly, “nervous?” - “a little.” - “good.”

you look up, “i’d be worried if you weren’t.”

another roar echoes through the hallway. louder this time. the walls practically shake.

Hollis sits with his elbows resting on his knees. his hands are clasped together now, not shaking. he stares at the floor. listening. thinking.

you walk over, stopping beside him, “you okay?”

he nods without looking up, “yeah.” a pause. “just ready.”

you study him for a second. he’s telling the truth. the nerves are there. but underneath them—he’s not scared. he’s waiting.

Ryan suddenly stands, “i can’t sit anymore.”

“you’ve been sitting for twenty minutes,” roman says.

“exactly.” Ryan starts pacing the room. one end turn and back again.

Nate watches him, “you’re making me dizzy.”

“shit, my fault. i need movement.”

Roman doesn’t even glance up, “you need water.”

“i need to fight.” - “no,” Nate and Roman laugh “hollis needs to fight.” Ryan laughs, “true.”

Hollis smiles. it’s small, barely there.

Marcus catches it, “good.”

he points at him, “stay like that.”

another fight ends. the crowd gets riled up again. music floods the arena. the announcer’s voice booms faintly through the walls. the television outside the room flashes with replay graphics as staff hurry down the hallway.

someone yells, “medical!” a pair of ringside physicians jog past the open doorway with equipment in hand.

the room falls quiet again. reality settles over everyone. this isn’t training anymore, this isn’t media day. people are getting hit. people are bleeding. people are losing.

in less than an hour…it’ll be hollis walking through that tunnel. you glance over at him. he’s looking toward the closed locker room door now. listening to every sound coming from the arena beyond it.

his jaw is set. his breathing is slow and measured. you gently bump his shoulder with yours. he looks over, “what?” - “you’ve gotten really quiet.”

he huffs softly, “you noticed?”

“i notice everything.” his expression softens, “yeah, i know.” a beat passes. almost too quietly for anyone else to hear— “i’m glad you’re here.” the words stop you for just a second.

before you can answer, Marcus’ phone vibrates. he checks the screen. looks up immediately. “they’re introducing the co-main.”

the room goes completely still. nobody has to ask what that means. one fight. one more fight. then it’s Hollis.

9:41 p.m.

the locker room has emptied. production has left. the cameras have stopped, even Ryan has stopped pacing. nobody speaks.

the arena sounds enormous. the roar of nearly twenty thousand people rolls through the concrete like distant thunder.

every few seconds another chant breaks out.

“Hollis!” “Hollis!” “Hollis!”

Marcus looks at the clock, “it’s time.” no dramatic speech. no movie monologue. “let’s go.”

everyone stands. Roman reaches for the speaker. the music cuts and silence takes over. Hollis takes one slow breath then another. you step in front of him before anyone else can, “hold still.”

he already knows what you’re doing. you straighten the black bandana tied around his head. one side had shifted slightly. you smooth it back into place. then your fingers move to the silver chain resting against his collarbone, it had twisted. you fix that too. neither of you says anything. you crouch slightly.

one last inspection. his gloves. the tape. the laces. everything exactly how it should be. your hands brush lightly over each glove, checking. always checking. “it’s good.”

he nods, “i know.”

you look up. your eyes meet. for a moment every thing disappears: the hallway, no crowd, and no cameras. just him.

“anything hurt?” he shakes his head, “no.”

“you dizzy?” - “no.” “nervous?” a tiny smile appears, “…little bit.”

“good.” you brush an invisible piece of lint from the shoulder of his robe. “you should be.”

he lets out the smallest laugh, “you always know what to say.”

“i’m serious.”

“i know.” a beat. his smile fades. “…Y/n.”

“hm?” he looks at you for a long second. long enough that your heart starts beating a little faster. “see you after.”

your chest tightens. you nod once, “…yeah.” you adjust the front of his robe one final time, “i’ll see you in the corner.”

he understands exactly what you mean. every round. every cut. every deep breath. you’ll be there.

he nods once, “…okay.”

neither of you moves then Roman reaches into Hollis’ gym bag. “don’t forgot.” he pulls out something folded neatly in his hands. white.

Ryan immediately grins, “no way.” Nate starts laughing before Hollis even takes it, “the mask?”Roman tosses it over, “you can’t come to mexico city and not wear it one last time.”

Hollis catches it easily. he looks down at the white luchador mask for a second. the same one he’d bought on a whim. the same one he’d worn at the weigh-in just to make everyone laugh.

Ryan smirks, “one more time?” Hollis looks at the mask then at the locker room door. “one more time.” he pulls it over his head with a grin. the room falls strangely quiet.

the second the mask settles into place—he doesn’t look like the guy who’d been joking with everyone over breakfast. he looks like the main event.

even you find yourself staring for a second longer than you mean to.

“hold on.” you step forward again. one corner of the mask has folded beneath the bandana. you gently smooth it flat with your fingertips. “there.”you take half a step back. “better.” you have a smile tugging at your mouth.

through the eye holes, his gaze finds yours. he gives the smallest nod. you swear your heart skips a beat.

Ryan breaks the silence, “dude.”

Roman folds his arms, “that’s hard.”

even Marcus lets out a quiet huff through his nose, “now we can go.”

Marcus opens the locker room door.

immediately—the sound hits. the crowd. the music. the announcers. everything at once.

an event coordinator appears, “blue corner.”

Hollis rolls his shoulders once. Roman steps beside him. Ryan on the other side. Nate behind them. Marcus follows.

you fall into place just behind Hollis. the tunnel is darker than the arena. cold concrete. bright white lights overhead. production assistants hurry past. security lines both sides. the bass begins.

DEVOTION

priest!hollis x fem!reader

author's note: found this sitting in my notes and somehow never found the right moment to post it. since i don't really have time to write at the moment, i thought i'd finally share it with you. enjoy <3

! implied smut - mdni

⠀

♱⠀

⠀

the church smells like incense and old wood. thick, almost suffocating. golden light spills through the stained glass, coloring everything in soft reds and blues that move when you breathe.

you sit still. hands folded. like you belong here. like nothing happened.

priest hollis stands at the front, draped in white and gold. the fabric falling clean and heavy over his frame. pristine. untouched. the collar sits sharp against his throat, hiding everything you know about the skin beneath it.

his voice is steady when he speaks. practiced. calm. like last night never existed. but you hear it. the slight roughness underneath. the crack he’s trying to smooth over. "come forward."

it echoes through the church, low, carried by the organ behind him. something slow, almost haunting, the notes dragging just a little too long, like they’re bending under their own weight.

people rise. row by row. you wait. you shouldn’t go. you know that. but your body moves anyway.

the marble floor is cold even through the thin fabric of your dress as you step forward, the space narrowing, the air growing heavier with every step closer to him. closer to the altar. closer to something that was never meant to happen.

he doesn’t look at you at first. he can’t. his hands are steady as he lifts the host, the thin white wafer, delicate between his fingers.

"the body of christ." the words sound wrong. or maybe it’s just you. you lower yourself slowly, knees touching the ground. and then he looks at you. and everything fractures. for a second it’s not the church anymore.

it’s last night

dim light. uneven breath. your hands gripping fabric that isn’t there now. your head tilted just slightly, the same angle, the same position, devotion twisted into something else entirely.

his jaw tightens. just barely. but you see it and your mind does the same cruel thing.

white and gold robes blur into bare skin. the careful distance between you collapses into heat, into closeness, into the memory of how his breath hitched when you looked up at him like that. exactly like this.

the organ swells. distorted now. heavier. almost wrong. you open your mouth. just slightly. waiting. the gesture is innocent here. sacred. it’s supposed to be. but the way his hand pauses, just for a second too long, gives him away.

his fingers brush your lips as he places the host on your tongue. skin against skin. brief. electric. his rings catch the light as his hand pulls back, the metal glinting, trembling just enough to betray him. you look up at him. slow. and for a second, he forgets where he is. you see it.

in the way his breathing falters. in the way his eyes darken. not with faith, not with devotion, but with something far more dangerous. something he already gave into once. the moment stretches too long. like it might snap.

and then it’s gone.

you stand. turn. walk back like nothing happened. like your heart isn’t pounding. like his gaze isn’t still burning into your back. like the altar isn’t holding a secret it was never meant to keep.

⠀

♱⠀

⠀

OUT OF FRAME

2hollis x fem!reader smutshot ! mdni

about: your older brother is one of 2hollis closest friends. so when he invites him to his songwriting camp, you end up tagging along after recently getting into photography. your brother is ridiculously protective and barely lets you out of his sight. one evening, hollis casually says: "i'm borrowing your sister for a bit. we still need a few shots by the ocean." nobody thinks anything of it. after all, you're just the little sister.

-

you've always had an eye for aesthetics. for the beautiful things. for finding the perfect angle. for knowing exactly how to capture a moment in a way that makes people feel like they were there.

you'd heard that compliment your whole life. and only recently, you finally worked up the courage to take photography seriously.

"this is your chance!" your brother had said, almost too excited for your own good. his idea? you'd tag along to 2hollis upcoming songwriting camp.

"get some good shots and your name will spread on its own."

he wasn't wrong. it was an incredible opportunity. which was exactly why you couldn't understand why hollis would ever agree to it.

surely he'd rather have someone with actual experience. someone who knew what they were doing. not... his best friends little sister.

but to your surprise, hollis didn't hesitate for a second. the moment your brother brought it up, he was on board. 

so now you were spending a week on an island, surrounded by nothing but ocean, watching a house full of producers and creative directors turn inspiration into something real. your only job? capturing it all.

-

it was already day three.

half the house was still asleep while you were already up, plugging camera batteries into their chargers one by one.

yesterday had been intense.

songwriting sessions that seemed to go on forever. lyric sheets scattered across every table. half finished drinks. notebooks full of crossed out ideas. a complete mess.

but somehow it still worked. you never realized how much went into making music.

-

"did you sleep well?" your brother's voice came from behind as he stepped through the glass sliding door. he brushed a hand over your shoulder before stopping beside you. you turned around, still looking a little sleepy and smiled.

"yeah. you?" his eyes narrowed for just a second. "you look tired." he paused. "you were alone last night, right?" you immediately nudged him with your elbow. "obviously, idiot. what do you think?" his jaw relaxed again. "just asking."

you rolled your eyes. "the way you patrol around me 24/7, nobody would even dare try anything. besides..." you shrugged. "…none of them are even my type."

that finally earned you a satisfied nod. he leaned against the counter. "i slept well too. let's see how much we get done today."

-

he was the best brother you could've asked for, but he was also the most overprotective person on the planet. that's just how your brother was. 

it didn't matter who the guy was. older. nicer. richer. none of them were ever good enough for his little sister.

and whenever there were too many guys around you, something inside him switched. he noticed every lingering glance. every smile that lasted a little too long. every excuse to stand just a little closer.

he'd make sure nobody ever got the chance to fill your head with the wrong ideas.

-

a little later, already on your second coffee, you sat curled up on one of the sofas by the pool, editing yesterday's photos on your laptop.

the glass door slid open behind you once again. "morning, little one." it was hollis voice. low, still rough from sleep. you looked up.

like every other morning, he was wearing nothing but a pair of loose gray sweatpants. "did you leave all your shirts at home or-"

he glanced down at himself with an amused smile. "you could always borrow me one of your crop tops." - "oh, i'd love to see you in that!" you replied sarcastically.

he let out a quiet laugh before disappearing back inside to help the other guys get everything ready for today's session.

-

...hollis.

he was the one friend of your brother's you'd break every rule for without thinking twice.

he was tall. ridiculously attractive. broad shoulders and long dark hair that caught warm, almost blond highlights whenever the sun hit it just right.

and his eyes. whenever he talked to you, they never seemed to leave yours, as if he was saying one thing while meaning another. it wasn’t uncomfortable. if anything, it made your stomach flutter in a way you hated how much you loved.

even his voice had that effect on you. especially when he called you little one or simply said your name.

but he was completely out of reach.

first, because he was your brother’s best friend. he knew the rules just as well as everyone else. besides, everyone treated you like the little sister. it was all too familiar for anyone to ever cross that line.

and second, someone like hollis could have anyone he wanted. girls threw themselves at him without him even trying. so why would he ever look twice at you?

-

by the afternoon the house had finally come alive.

someone was testing a new beat through the speakers while two producers argued over a melody in the kitchen. 

lyric sheets covered the dining table once again. empty coffee cups, tangled headphones and laptops everywhere.

you wandered between everyone with your camera, catching little moments nobody else seemed to notice.

someone laughing with their head thrown back. fingers drumming absentmindedly against a countertop. hollis sitting crosslegged on the couch, completely lost in whatever he was writing.

"hold that." he didn’t even look up. you lifted the camera. click. perfect.

a few minutes later, everyone slowly gathered outside by the pool for a break.

you were scrolling through the photos on your camera when an idea crossed your mind.

"actually..." you looked up. "if we're putting together a vlog for the camp, we should definitely get some shots down by the ocean later. it'd fit the whole vibe."

a few heads turned. 

"the light around sunset would look insane." one of the creative directors nodded immediately. "she’s right."

before anyone else could answer, nate leaned back in his chair with a grin. "i mean…" his eyes landed on you. "i’d always be down to shoot in the ocean with you.“

a few quiet laughs spread around the table. your stomach tightened. before you could even think of a response:

"watch it." your brother didn’t even raise his voice. he just looked at nate. the smile disappeared from his face almost instantly.

"i was joking man." - "doesn’t matter." the conversation around the table had already gone quiet. then hollis spoke. calm. almost amused. "nate." he finally looked up from his notebook. "you know the rules."

"see?" your brother pointed toward him without taking his eyes off nate. "take notes from hollis. he’s been around my sister for three days and hasn’t acted weird once."

"exactly," hollis said. his expression didn’t change. not even a little. "wouldn’t dream of it."

everyone seemed satisfied enough with that. someone changed the subject. the conversation picked back up almost immediately. your brother was already busy talking to someone else about tonight’s session.

for a moment everything felt normal again. then you felt it. a gaze. so intense it almost seemed to burn against your skin. when you finally looked up, your eyes met hollis instantly. it almost startled you.

he wasn't just glancing your way. he was looking at you, really looking at you. there was something behind it. a message you couldn't quite put into words.

he caught the uncertainty on your face. then he winked. a crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he turned back toward the group as if nothing had happened.

nobody noticed. he knew they wouldn't. he knew exactly what he'd just done to you. and with one tiny gesture, everything he'd said only seconds earlier

wouldn't dream of it.

suddenly felt meaningless. because if he really wouldn´t dream of it, why did that wink feel like a secret only the two of you were supposed to understand?

-

after the break everyone had slipped right back into work mode. the energy around the house shifted almost instantly.

producers disappeared behind laptops, melodies echoed from different rooms, conversations turned into discussions about lyrics and arrangements. everyone seemed locked in on the same goal: 

making the best music they possibly could before the week was over.

those were your favorite moments to photograph. nothing was staged. nobody was posing. it was just people completely consumed by what they loved.

well. everyone except your brother. he'd managed to check out completely, sprawled across one of the couches, mindlessly scrolling through tiktok. every few seconds another obnoxious sound blasted through the room.

after about five minutes, hollis finally looked up from his laptop with an exhausted sigh. "you're actually useless." without another word, he stood up, walked over and dropped a pair of airpods onto your brother's chest. "please."

your brother snorted, slipped them in and immediately disappeared back into his own little world. you couldn't help laughing. the moment was too good. you lifted your camera. click.

your brother looking completely unbothered while hollis visibly regretted inviting him.

"what?" you looked up. hollis had heard you laugh. "that picture," you grinned "should be your next album cover." he laughed under his breath. "let me see."

before you could answer, he was already walking over. he stopped beside you. closer than he needed to. his shoulder brushed yours as you lifted the camera between you.

without thinking, you turned the screen toward him. he leaned in. close enough that a few loose strands of his hair brushed against your cheek.

close enough that you caught the familiar scent of expensive cologne mixed with cigarettes and the faint warmth of sun on his skin. it smelled... like hollis.

"here." you opened the photo. he laughed quietly. "that's actually iconic." instead of handing the camera back, he casually took it from your hands to scroll through the rest himself.

your fingers brushed. only for a second. at least that's what should've happened. for some reason it felt longer. your eyes instinctively flicked toward your brother. still glued to his phone. still completely oblivious and technically nothing inappropriate had happened.

hollis kept scrolling. then stopped. it was one of the photos from earlier that morning. shirtless. a cigarette resting between his fingers, phone in the other hand, brows slightly furrowed as he'd read something on the screen. the sunlight hit him perfectly. almost unfairly.

he let out a quiet breath. "damn." his eyes stayed on the screen. "you're actually really fucking good at this, y/n" heat crept into your cheeks. "thank you."

this time, when you looked up, he was already looking at you. his eyes dropped. just for a heartbeat. to your lips. before returning to yours. there it was again. that same impossible tension. he wasn't touching you. he wasn't even saying anything.

yet somehow it felt wrong that your brother was only a few feet away. your gaze darted back toward him. still distracted. still not paying attention. hollis noticed. he tilted his head slightly. "worried about crossing his boundaries?"

your eyes widened. "what? no, i just..." you stumbled over your own words. he smiled. small. knowing. "if there was nothing to worry about," he said quietly, handing the camera back "you wouldn't keep checking." you blinked. "excuse me?"

he didn't answer right away. instead he glanced toward your brother. still completely occupied. then his hand found your waist. gentle. careful. his fingertips barely rested against you. but it was enough.

every muscle in your body tensed. your heartbeat slammed against your ribs. the air suddenly felt warmer. your eyes dropped to his hand. to the fact that it was actually there. against you.

before you could fully process it he let go again. his gaze lifted back to your face. your flushed cheeks. your wide pupils. your lips, slightly parted. he saw everything. every reaction. every answer.

a slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. his voice was almost playful. "thought so." heat rushed to your face. "wha-" - "relax." his voice was calm. "your secret's safe with me."

you felt completely caught. you hadn't admitted a single thing. had barely said a word. and yet somehow, you couldn't deny any of it. he'd read you far too easily.

that same selfassured smile lingered on his lips while all you could do was stare back at him, almost in disbelief. he held your gaze for another second longer before giving a small nod.

"gotta get back to work." and just like that, he turned around and sat back down at his laptop, leaving you there with your camera still clutched against your chest and a truth you'd never intended to reveal.

you never thought it would get this far. but now it was too late. this wasn't over.

the tension inside the room had become almost unbearable. you mumbled something about getting some fresh air before slipping outside.

your brother was still lying on the couch. completely oblivious. if only he knew what had just happened right in front of him.

-

on purpose, you spent the next hour with the other producers. you needed the distance. needed time to process whatever had just happened. because what?

how had hollis suddenly gotten so close? how had one look, one touch, been enough to make you question everything you'd convinced yourself was impossible?

you sat outside with everyone else, the chairs pushed together around the table while you transferred the photos from your camera onto your laptop.

everyone was doing their own thing. until one of the producers finally broke the silence.

"guys, i'm starving." he stretched his arms over his head. "can we call it a break and make some food or something?" a chorus of agreement followed almost instantly.

"thank god." nate groaned dramatically, leaning back in his chair. "i'm actually dying." - "same." you laughed. "best idea anyone's had all day."

right on cue the glass door slid open. your brother stepped outside first, hollis followed a second later. "what?" your brother grinned "i heard food." without missing a beat, hollis smacked the back of his head. "you haven't done a single thing."

your brother rubbed the back of his head dramatically. "doesn't matter." he pointed at you. "one productive sibling is enough." you looked up just long enough to raise your middle finger at him. he only laughed.

"so..." the producer looked around the table. "food?" everyone nodded.

before anyone could get up, hollis casually rested a hand on your brother's shoulder. "i'm borrowing your sister for a bit." your fingers froze above your keyboard. "we still need a few shots by the ocean." he glanced toward the horizon. "sun's gonna be down soon. doesn't make much sense after that."

then his eyes found yours. only for a second. but it was enough. your stomach flipped instantly. this wasn't about the photos. this was about finally being alone. before you could even answer-

"ocean?" nate pushed himself to his feet immediately. "hell yeah, i'm coming too. i still need a few shots." for the first time all afternoon, something shifted in hollis expression. barely. his jaw tightened.

"nate." your brother sighed, walked over and grabbed him by the shoulder before gently pushing him back down into his chair. "sit." a few laughs spread around the table.

"look," your brother said with a grin. "i like you. i really do. but after that little comment earlier..." he shook his head "you're the last person i'm sending to the beach with my sister."

nate threw both hands into the air. "seriously?" he pointed across the patio. "but he gets to go?" his finger landed on hollis. "pretty boy over there?"

your brother didn't even hesitate. "he's known her for years and he's never given me a reason not to trust him." he nodded toward you. "besides, she's here to work. that's literally all this is."

hollis stayed quiet the entire time. he didn't defend himself. didn't add a single word. he simply waited. only you noticed the tension disappear from his jaw.

"ready?" he finally looked at you. you nodded. "yeah. let me grab my camera bag." - "take your time." he looked back at your brother. "we'll be back before dinner." - "don't rush." your brother waved him off. "get the shots while the light's good." - "will do."

then hollis looked at you one last time. not long enough for anyone else to notice. just long enough for that familiar feeling to settle deep in your stomach again. because you knew exactly what he'd really meant when he said he was borrowing you.

-

ten minutes later, the two of you met again by the front entrance. while you'd simply tied your hair back into a ponytail and thrown your camera bag over your shoulder, hollis looked completely different.

he'd changed into a pair of jeans and a plain white shirt. but it was his makeup that caught your attention first. black eyeliner framed his eyes, smudged with deep red eyeshadow underneath. he looked like the kind of villain people couldn't help falling in love with. and he wasted absolutely no time using that first impression.

he stepped closer. close enough to tower over you. "ready, little one?" your brain went completely blank. "uhm..." you swallowed. "y-yeah. sure."

his hand suddenly moved toward you. your eyes followed it instinctively. only to realize he wasn't reaching for you. he was taking your camera bag off your shoulder. "come on." he said casually, slinging it over his own shoulder. "let's go."

-

the walk down to the ocean only took about twelve minutes. you stayed beside him the entire way, hands tucked into your pockets, your heartbeat refusing to slow down.

it still didn't feel real. in the span of a single afternoon, everything between the two of you had changed.

"good thing nate didn't come." his voice pulled you out of your thoughts. you looked up. "i mean..." you shrugged "i would've taken pictures of him too. i didn't mind."

hollis let out a quiet hum. "he wasn't the problem." you slowed to a stop. "what do you mean?"

he stopped a few steps ahead before turning back toward you. one corner of his mouth lifted. "he would've gotten in the way." - "of what?"

for a second, he just looked at you. that same unreadable expression. then he smiled. "the shoot."

right. except his eyes said something completely different. you rolled your eyes, trying far too hard to ignore the warmth creeping into your cheeks.

"and my brother thinks you're the responsible one." a quiet laugh escaped him. "oh, i could prove him right." you frowned. "or very, very wrong." before he could finish the thought, you bumped your elbow into his side. "idiot."

-

by the time you reached the ocean, you felt almost dizzy from the tension.

the two of you tried to act like nothing had changed, but neither of you could deny how intense your glances had become. how tense your bodies felt. how wet your panties had gotten and how his jeans fit just a little tighter than before.

both of you were simply waiting for the moment everything finally snapped.

"this looks like a good spot." he nodded. "yeah. you've got a good eye." he handed you your camera bag before slipping off his shoes and making his way toward the water.

you shook your head. "are you insane?" he only called back over his shoulder. "trust me." a small grin tugged at his lips. "i know what i'm doing."

of course he did. he always knew exactly what he was doing. and now, with the two of you finally alone, more than ever.

you adjusted your camera settings, completely focused on getting everything right. but the moment you looked up again, you almost forgot how to breathe. there he was.

his white shirt completely soaked, clinging to every inch of his broad frame. the wet fabric traced every muscle beneath it. water glistened on his skin, the ends of his long hair soaked from the ocean.

"better?" hollis asked, looking at you through those dark eyes, framed by smudged black liner and deep red shadow. the sight alone sent a shiver through your entire body.

"y-yeah." you cleared your throat "i get your vision now." - "see?" he sounded far too pleased with himself. like he'd known exactly how hard this would be for you. like the white shirt had been part of the plan all along.

you lifted your camera and started taking photos. he posed without needing any direction, his eyes never really leaving the lens... or you. and he enjoyed every second of it. all under the perfectly innocent excuse that the two of you were simply there to take pictures.

-

after a few more shots, he suddenly called out: "wait." you lowered your camera and looked at him, confused. if this had already been torture, it got so much worse.

the six-foot-something man slowly brought his large, veiny, wet hands to the hem of his shirt before pulling it over his head, revealing his body inch by inch.

you already knew what he looked like. but this felt like your own private show. like a gift slowly unwrapping itself right in front of you. a gift that had always been at the very top of your wishlist.

you caught yourself biting your lip before quickly looking away, suddenly embarrassed.

"you okay?" his voice was gentle. almost as if he had no idea what he was doing to you. "i'm fine." you answered a little too quickly before lifting your camera again.

but even through the lens it didn't get any easier. his jeans sat low on his hips, the waistband of his white boxers peeking out beneath them.

you looked a little closer, as subtly as you possibly could. your eyes caught the trail of dark hair disappearing beneath his waistband.

before you could stop yourself, your gaze instinctively followed it lower, wondering just how much more was hidden beneath the denim. god. focus.

hollis noticed the way your posture had changed. the way your hands trembled ever so slightly around the camera.

"and that's exactly why nate would've been in the way." he knew. this was the moment. and the second you heard those words, you knew it too. there was no going back now.

"hollis..." you asked carefully "what are you doing?" he stayed where he was, the water moving gently around his hips, small waves splashing against his lower abs.

"you already know, y/n." his voice was calm "we've got enough pictures." his eyes stayed locked on yours "put the camera down." your heart stopped. "...what?"

a dark smile spread across his face before he slowly started walking toward you. water streamed down his body. from his neck, over his chest, down the defined lines of his abs, before disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

before you could fully process what was happening, he was standing right in front of you. his hands gently wrapped around your camera. you let go without thinking. he carefully set it aside for you. then he stepped closer.

his wet hair dripped onto your skin, sending goosebumps racing across your arms. "i've been wondering when this moment would finally happen." his voice was quiet. steady. 

his hands found your waist again. but this time they weren't teasing. they weren't careful. they held you with certainty. he pulled you closer. your breath caught.

"the moment for what?" he looked away for a second with an amused smile, as if you couldn't possibly be serious. "i've seen the way you look at me." his eyes found yours again. "for a while now." his thumb slowly brushed against your side. "and i knew the second i noticed..." he smiled. "...that i needed you like this."

your knees felt weak. "hollis..." you barely managed to whisper. "this isn't a good idea." - "i know." he answered quietly. you felt the last word against your lips as he closed the distance between you.

the kiss started slow. careful. almost as if he was giving you one last chance to pull away. but the second your fingers slipped into his damp hair, it deepened.

he pulled your body flush against his. a quiet groan escaped him into the kiss. your clothes slowly became soaked from the water still clinging to him.

his hands wandered across you as though they'd been waiting far too long for this. when he finally opened his eyes again, they looked even darker than before. without warning, he slipped an arm beneath your legs and lifted you effortlessly. you wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively. he turned toward the ocean.

"no, hollis!" you laughed. but you already knew you weren't stopping him. before you realized it, the two of you were back in the water.

still impossibly close. your skirt floated upward beneath the surface. his hands found the bare skin beneath it. he let out a quiet groan. god. how long had he wanted this?

the heat inside you kept building. there was a craving growing in your chest. a desperate, aching need.

you held onto his broad shoulders for support before instinctively rolling your hips against him. his grip on you tightened immediately. "oh, fuck..." his voice came out low, almost breathless. "if your brother knew how needy you are for me."

he slowly rocked his hips back against yours, teasing. a shaky moan slipped from your lips as you felt his bulge pressed against you through the soaked denim.

"look at you." his forehead rested against yours. "you're all mine, aren't you?" you nodded without hesitation. "y-yeah..."

the ocean soaked you more with every passing second. your clothes clung to your bodies. your hair grew heavier with seawater. your kisses became deeper. more desperate. 

hidden beneath the surface, where no one could see, his hand slipped beneath the fabric of your panties, his long fingers gliding through your slit, brushing over your clit again and again while his other arm kept you firmly against him.

as if he was breaking you apart, only to be the one holding you together.

then his lips found your neck. soft kisses turned into slow, lingering ones as his fingers moved with growing urgency.

"oh... fuck, hollis." the words escaped you in a trembling breath. he felt it instantly. the way his cock twitched against you. hollis pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

for the first time all day, he hesitated. his jaw tightened. then, barely above a whisper, he admitted: "i need to fuck you y/n." his forehead rested against yours once more. "right now."

at his words everything inside you tightened. your pussy clenched around nothing as you pulled him even closer, desperate for him.

your voice barely rose above a whisper. "i'm all yours." every muscle in his body was tense. his heartbeat pounded just as fast as yours.

"hold on tight, baby." as you wrapped yourself around his broad frame, he reached beneath the surface to undo his jeans.

god, you wished you could see him. see just how ready he was for you. see all of him.

instead he looked directly into your eyes. he didn't even bother moving your panties aside. "ready for me?" his voice was low. dark. you rested your forehead against his. "i've waited so long for this." the words melted against his lips.

the water hid everything from view. there was nothing to see. only feel.

he held you firmly against him as he slowly drew you closer, letting you adjust to him inch by inch.

your breath caught. he was so much bigger than you'd imagined. he kept easing you closer until he finally held you flush against him before capturing your lips in another kiss.

"you okay, angel?" you nodded immediately. his hands slid lower along your hips while your fingers tangled tighter in his damp hair.

he began moving with you, pulling you back against him over and over again. harder. needier.

the water splashed around you with every movement as your quiet moans grew harder to hold back. "if he only knew how good you sound with my cock inside you..." his voice cracked with restraint. "fuck... baby."

you knew exactly who he meant. there was something about crossing the one line he never should've crossed that seemed to drive him even crazier. sleeping with his best friend's little sister.

the sun continued sinking behind the two of you. the only witness to what was happening.

you clung to him even tighter when you suddenly felt his thumb find your clit beneath the water. the ocean was dangerous. you never knew what he was going to do next.

while his thumb circled you slowly, his pace changed. he slowed down, letting you feel every inch of him before drawing you back again. making you feel everything.

"be good for me, angel." you nodded, burying your face against his neck. "please..." you already knew what was coming. "cum for me, baby." his voice was barely more than a breath.

"i´m all yours."

"don't run from it."

"let it happen."

"i got you."

and he did. every movement found exactly the right place. your whole body tightened around him. your breathing became uneven.

his own breaths turned rougher, more broken, matching yours until the two of you reached the edge together. "oh... fuck." he held you close as you trembled against him. "look at you..." he smiled between messy kisses. "such a good girl."

he kissed you again, slow and unsteady, your lips barely separating before finding each other again. you were still trying to catch your breath while he held you against him, neither of you wanting to let go. you smiled softly against his lips.

"hm?" he murmured. "do you think we missed dinner?" you asked with a small smile, absentmindedly playing with his hair. he pulled you a little closer. "after today..." a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"...you're the only one who's gonna be satisfying my hunger."

-

2hollisxfem!reader

╋━ hollis is the new priest in town, entirely forbidden, and that's exactly why he becomes your new guilt pleasure.

tags: priest kink, slow burn, religious/catholic guilt, sacrilege, slightly obsessive behavior leaned towards religious psychosis, smut (p in v), church sex, confession kink(?), oral sex (f and m receiving), both character are over 18

w/c: 13.7k

a/n: been drafting this one for way too long and tbh it's not exactly where i intended, maybe i post some priest!hollis alternative version one day lol.

taglist: @magegodmode, @2lilaclace, @angelrazor6000, @elloweezrosey, @222foryou222, @sweet2sin, @jackkilmergf, @bambi-lia, @osx12-22, @m1ndless-thoughtsss, @7thstrunner

rommulas x fem!reader text fic

texts/dms *‧₊˚✧ timeline: march 2026

<- pt.2 . pt.4 ->

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cw: social media, texts, press, mexico city, week three, media,

content info: boxing au, touch as communication, injury care, tending wounds, professional boundaries, emotional messy boxer, reckless boxer, slow burn

disclaimer: all people in fic r aged up.

summary: you built your reputation the hard way. quietly, carefully. one fight at a time. by the time people stop questioning you, fighters are requesting you. across the country, hollis is building a reputation of his own. brilliant. reckless. impossible to control. so when his team calls and asks you to join his corner, you already know what everyone else does. he doesn't listen. but when the bell rings and blood starts running down his face, you're the only one he looks at between rounds.

wc: 13.9k

007 -> 008 -> 009

→ → → → → → → → → → → →

Mexico City starts feeling normal a little too quickly. given the fact that Marcus came a couple hours after the lucha libre fight, he was quick to put the boys back in their place. mornings blur into training schedules. you’re doing coffee runs, having late breakfasts, and listening to all of the boys’ music taste.

the city outside stays loud and alive, but inside the group— things settle, too comfortably.

Monday morning starts slower than usual. sunlight spills through the hotel curtains in warm gold streaks. your phone buzzes somewhere beside you. you groan softly into your pillow before reaching for it blindly.

you stare at the message for a second. it’s 7:14 a.m. you immediately smile against your will.

the typing bubble appears almost instantly.

4 -> 5

your stomach flips embarrassingly fast at how normal this feels now, like this has become expected, like him texting you first thing in the morning somehow isn’t insane anymore.

twenty minutes later, you step out into the hallway wearing oversized sweats and a hoodie. your hair still slightly messy.

immediately—he looks up from where he’s leaning against the wall near the elevator, like he’s been waiting. he’s wearing a black hoodie and gray sweats. his headphones hanging loosely around his neck and sleep still lingering slightly in his expression. his eyes move over you once before meeting yours again, “…you took twenty.”

you scoff softly, “you counted?”

“yeah. every minute with you counts with this busy schedule i’m having.” he says it too easily. like he doesn’t realize how that sounds, or maybe he does?

you fall into step beside him toward the elevator. comfortable silence settles almost immediately, which still surprises you sometimes because Hollis isn’t quiet in an awkward way. he’s quiet like someone who doesn’t need noise to fill space.

the elevator doors close. he glances sideways at you, “you gain your voice back yet?”

you laugh weakly, your voice still a little rough from the lucha libre fight. “almost.”

his mouth tilts slightly, “worth it?”

“absolutely.”

that makes him smile properly for a second and annoyingly—you’ve started noticing how rare those real smiles actually are.

the lobby’s quieter this early. a few people scattered around couches, hotel staff moving through the front entrance.

you and Hollis walk side by side toward the coffee shop across the street like this is something you’ve done a hundred times already. the air hits warm against your skin. cars are moving. music playing faintly from somewhere nearby. without thinking—Hollis reaches for your arm lightly while crossing the street, guiding you closer when traffic moves too fast. his hand drops away after, but not immediately. you notice that too.

inside the coffee shop, the worker behind the counter recognizes him instantly. her eyes widen slightly then flick toward you. immediately—that look appears. the one you’ve started recognizing lately. curiosity. interest. speculation. Hollis notices too but unlike before—he doesn’t pull away from you, doesn’t create distance, doesn’t correct anything. if anything, he stays beside you more deliberately now, close enough that your shoulder brushes his while you order. it scares you a little because somewhere between Erewhon and lucha libre masks and late-night hotel hallways—this stopped feeling temporary.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

entering the gym feels heavier today. it’s not as loud as the days before louder. it’s not busier. it’s just heavier because everybody knows the fight’s getting close now. sparring rounds blur together under overhead lights. coaches are shouting constantly, gloves cracking against skin, camera operators weaving around constantly for promo clips.

you stand near the back wall wrapping extra gauze around your fingers absentmindedly while watching the ring. you go back to friday night. you two nearly kissed. you wonder what would’ve happened if he never left. you shake the thought of your head immediately after realizing. you are working for Hollis and his team. you shouldn’t be attracted to him, but god. he is so mesmerizing to look at.

cutting back to reality, you notice Hollis has been in there for almost forty minutes and something’s off. you noticed it during warmups but your mind trailed off. he’s faster than usual and more aggressive. but he’s sloppy in a way he normally isn’t, he keeps overcommitting.

Roman notices too, you can tell by the way his arms stay crossed tighter against his chest.

“again,” one of the coaches says sharply.

Hollis wipes sweat from his mouth with the back of his glove, annoyed already.

the sparring partner moves first this time. a quick combination. Hollis slips two punches cleanly—then gets clipped hard on the third.

the sound echoes louder than it should.

your stomach tightens instantly.

Hollis steps back, jaw clenched.

“hands up,” the coach snaps immediately.

Hollis says nothing, just circles again. the next exchange gets worse. too reckless. too emotional. he lands hard shots—but keeps getting caught because he’s fighting angry now instead of smart.

Ryan mutters quietly beside you, “he’s overthinking.”

Roman nods once, “he watched the clips again this morning.”

you glance over slightly, “what clips?”

Roman exhales through his nose, “his opponent’s team posted training footage.”

Nate scoffs from nearby, “talking crazy online too.”

you look back toward the ring and suddenly it makes sense. the tension. the shorter temper. the exhaustion sitting under Hollis’s skin lately.

another round starts. the cameras move closer now, they love this part. fighters frustrated, fighters bleeding, and fighters unraveling.

Hollis notices them too which only makes him worse. his coach says something you can’t hear. Hollis immediately shakes his head, frustrated. another bad exchange, sparring partner lands a sharp hit against his cheekbone. hard enough the whole gym reacts slightly.

“time,” Roman says immediately. but Hollis ignores it. he keeps moving forward anyway. throwing harder now, messier.

the coach physically steps in this time, “ENOUGH!” silence drops across the gym for a second.

Hollis rips his mouthguard out immediately, “he’s dropping his fucking hands every time.”

“because you’re chasing shots,” the coach fires back.

“i’m landing.”

“you’re fighting emotional.”

that one hits something. you see it instantly in Hollis’s face. the irritation shifting into something sharper, “i’m fine.”

“you look distracted.”

the cameras are still filming, still watching, and Hollis suddenly looks like he wants to punch every single one of them. he hops down from the ring abruptly. pulling his gloves off aggressively.

one of the media people starts approaching, probably for footage, questions, and content.

Hollis doesn’t even let him speak, “not now.” he says coldly and flat.

the guy backs off immediately. the gym stays quiet afterward, everybody pretending not to notice the tension.

you watch Hollis pace once near the lockers, hands on his hips, breathing hard. then he grabs a water bottle, throws half of it back. the other half spills down his neck and shirt. he still looks angry. but underneath it—he looks exhausted. you don’t see the headlines, or the ego, or the controversy everybody talks about. you just see a twenty-something year old carrying way too much pressure on his back.

Roman gets pulled away by one of the coaches. Ryan and Nate drift toward the opposite side of the gym.

before you can overthink it—your feet move first. Hollis hears you approaching before you say anything. “i’m fine,” he mutters automatically.

you stop beside him anyway, “…i didn’t ask.”

silence.

he leans forward against the counter slightly, head lowered, breathing finally slowing. up close—you can see the redness forming against his cheek already, the exhaustion under his eyes.

“you’re letting them get to you,” you say quietly.

he laughs once, humorless. “everybody keeps saying that.”

“because it’s true.”

another silence. he twists the water bottle cap back on harder than necessary. “…if i lose this fight,” he says finally, quieter now, “people are gonna say everything they already think about me is true.”

that catches you off guard slightly, because there it is. it’s not arrogance, not recklessness. it’s fear. buried deep. but there.

you look at him carefully, “you really care what people think?”

he finally glances sideways at you, “…not usually.” a beat. “lately i do.”

your chest tightens a little at the honesty in that answer. the gym noise fades quieter around both of you. Hollis looks back down at the counter again, jaw tense.

without thinking, again, you reach up gently toward his cheekbone, “hold still.”

his entire body stills immediately. you press an ice pack lightly against the forming bruise, careful and gentle.

his eyes stay on you the entire time.

for the first time all day he finally stops looking angry.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

the media room is colder than the gym. it’s so bright and crowded. camera lights beam harshly across folding chairs and sponsor banners while people move around carrying equipment and clipboards. you stand near the back wall with Roman and Ryan while production assistants rush around setting up the next interview slot.

Hollis sits a few feet away getting mic’d up. he looks tired. both physically and mentally. you can tell by the way he keeps flexing his jaw like he’s trying to stay patient. his cheekbone still has faint redness from sparring. his hoodie sleeves pushed up slightly. rings glinting beneath the lights.

Nate leans toward you quietly, “he hates this stuff.”

“i can tell.”

“nah,” Ryan says. “today’s actually not that bad yet.” that yet hangs in the air ominously.

a producer signals toward Hollis, “rolling in five.”

Hollis nods once and leans back in the chair, expression flattening automatically.

the interviewer smiles once the cameras go live, “alright everybody, we’re here in Mexico City with 2Hollis ahead of Thursday night’s fight.”

Hollis lifts one hand slightly in acknowledgment.

“big fight week,” the interviewer continues. “how’s Mexico City been treating you?”

“…good.”

“fans seem excited to have you here.”

“yeah. crowds been cool.” his tone’s calmer than usual. still detached, still Hollis. but less volatile.

the interviewer notices immediately, “you seem more relaxed this camp.”

Ryan snorts quietly from beside you.

Hollis hears it and glares briefly toward him. “i’m always relaxed.”

Nate mutters under his breath—“lie.”

Roman elbows him instantly. the interviewer smiles carefully, used to fighters acting difficult.

“your opponent said this morning he thinks you’re mentally weak under pressure.”

the room shifts slightly at that.

you see Hollis’s posture change immediately. it’s small and subtle but noticeable. his eyes sharpen, jaw tightening once. “he talks a lot.”

“does it bother you?”

“not really.” another lie, you can tell now. because his fingers start tapping once against the armrest again. same rhythm as earlier after sparring.

the interviewer glances down at his notes, “this camp’s looked a little different for you though.”

Hollis stays quiet, watching him carefully now.

“new team dynamics. new staff additions.”

your stomach tightens slightly because you already know where this is going, “you’re working with Y/n this fight,” the interviewer says.

the cameras don’t turn toward you, thank god. but suddenly you feel every person in the room glance your direction anyway. “people in combat sports already knew her from Massachusetts circuits,” the interviewer continues. “especially after working with Marcus Silva’s camp.”

you look down at your phone automatically avoiding eye contact.

“how’s that adjustment been?”

silence. it’s not awkward, just longer than expected because Hollis actually thinks before answering, “…she’s good.” he says simply, honest.

the interviewer nods, “what makes her good?”

Hollis leans back slightly in his chair. thinking again, “…she doesn’t panic.”

your stomach flips unexpectedly hearing that.

“even when everybody else does.”

Ryan glances sideways toward Roman immediately because that answer sounds too personal.

the interviewer smiles slightly, “sounds important during fight week.”

“it is.” he says quietly.

the interviewer studies him a second, “you seem calmer this camp too.”

Hollis huffs softly through his nose, almost smiling. “everybody keeps saying that.”

“because it’s true,” the interviewer replies easily.

a beat. “do you think having the right people around affects how you fight?” there it is, the question you’ve been expecting. you finally glance up again and immediately regret it because Hollis is already looking at you, not dramatically, not obviously. instinctively. almost like he forgot the cameras were there for half a second.

unfortunately— the crew definitely catches it. you can almost see Ryan realizing it in real time beside you.

Hollis looks back toward the interviewer afterward but slower than he should. “…yeah,” he says finally. “probably.”

the interviewer smiles slightly like he just learned something useful, “interesting.”

the rest of the interview shifts back toward the fight after that. training. strategy. Mexico City.

Hollis slips back into his usual public persona easier now. cocky answers. short responses. and a little arrogance. but something changed already, you can feel it. especially when the interview ends and the cameras cut.

one of the younger production assistants immediately whispers to another girl nearby—“wait are they together?”

your stomach drops slightly. Ryan hears it too, his eyes widen instantly. Nate nearly chokes trying not to laugh. Roman pinches the bridge of his nose.

across the room, Hollis pulls his mic off slowly then looks directly at you again. like none of the attention around him matters half as much as whether you heard what he said.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

its chaos by noon. stylists, camera crews, and racks of clothes rolling across marble floors. people are yelling over each other in both english and spanish. apparently one of the fight sponsors decided last minute they wanted promotional content before Thursday.

which means: photoshoots, interviews, social clips, and more cameras.

Nate groans dramatically the second he hears, “i thought we were fighters.”

“you complain like a model though,” Ryan says.

“because this is stressful.”

Roman doesn’t even look up from his phone, “you’ll survive.”

you’re standing near the elevators checking schedules again when Hollis walks out of the hallway already changed. unfortunately— he looks good. black cargos, a white tank, a silver chain, a dark jacket hanging open and hair messy on purpose somehow.

you hate the way your eyes immediately flick toward him because he notices instantly.

his mouth tilts slightly, “what?”

you shake your head quickly, “nothing.”

Nate looks between both of you immediately, “oh brother.”

Ryan laughs.

Roman physically closes his eyes for a second, “can we get through one day,” Roman mutters, “without whatever this is.”

“there is no this,” you say too fast. Hollis says nothing, which honestly makes it worse.

the photoshoot setup is on the rooftop terrace of another hotel nearby overlooking the city. there’s bright sunlight, industrial fans, and music blasting softly through speakers.

the second the boys walk onto set, people start moving faster. stylists are adjusting jackets, fixing their chains, touching up makeup while photographers are testing the lighting.

Nate immediately starts posing dramatically before they even tell him to, “this is my calling actually.”

“you’re enjoying this way too much,” Ryan says.

“because i’m good at it.”

“you literally blinked in every test photo.”

Roman’s sitting calmly while a stylist fixes the sleeves of his shirt, completely unbothered.

Ryan looks naturally photogenic without trying, which Nate complains about immediately. Hollis looks like he hates every second of it until the cameras start rolling. then something switches, his expression sharpens instantly. it’s more cooler and controlled. he looks in the exact way promotions want him to look.

you watch from behind one of the monitors while the photographer directs them, “closer together.”

Nate throws an arm around Ryan dramatically. Ryan does it back in return. Roman barely reacts.

the photographer laughs, “good. now serious.”

Hollis leans against the railing overlooking Mexico City, his hands in his pockets, the sunlight catching against his rings and chain.

the photographer visibly perks up, “yes. hold that.”

camera shutters go insane. you hate how good he is at this. not because he tries, but because he doesn’t.

one of the assistants beside you notices your expression, “he photographs really well, huh?”

you glance away immediately, “i guess.”

the girl smiles knowingly.

the shoot keeps going. the boys are in different outfits, different sponsor content. having boxing promo shots, group pictures, and solo shots. at one point they have the boys sit casually on a couch setup for social media promo. Nate immediately starts messing with Ryan’s sunglasses, Ryan almost falls sideways laughing. Roman shakes his head. Hollis looks over toward you off-camera right as the photographer takes the picture. you don’t even realize it happened until the photographer lowers the camera smiling.

“that one’s good.” too good probably because Nate notices immediately, “bro, stop looking at her.”

the entire crew goes quiet for half a second. your stomach drops instantly. Ryan starts coughing trying not to laugh. Roman mutters: “you’re an idiot.” Hollis doesn’t even look embarrassed, he just looks at Nate flatly, “shut up.” which somehow confirms it more. you turn away before anybody can see your face properly, pretending to fix something in your bag. but the damage is already done. especially because across the rooftop—two girls from the media team are already whispering while looking between you and Hollis.

for the first time since arriving in Mexico City, you realize this might actually become a problem.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

the hotel rooftop is almost empty tonight. just distant music from somewhere below. you feel the warm wind hit your skin. you watch the city lights stretch endlessly across the city. you don’t even know how long you’ve been standing out here before the rooftop door opens behind you.“couldn’t sleep either?”

your chest tightens slightly even though you recognize the voice, his voice. Hollis steps outside beside you, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hands tucked into his pockets, and hair messy from showering. he smells faintly like soap and smoke.

you look back out at the city instead of at him, “you ever sleep?”

“sometimes.” a beat. “…you?”

you shrug lightly, “trying.” silence settles after that, its comforting compared to everything else that’s happened today. as much as its comforting, it’s dangerous because lately silence with him feels too intimate. the city noise hums below both of you softly. for a while—neither of you says anything at all. then: “you got quiet after the other night.”

your stomach flips instantly, of course he brings it up like that, not directly, not clearly. just enough to make you remember.

you stare out at the skyline harder, “…did i?”

“yeah.” his voice stays calm, its quiet. “thought maybe i said something wrong.”

you finally glance toward him then. he’s already watching you, of course he is. the tension hits immediately. thick and slow.

you look away first, like usual, “…you didn’t.”

“then what was it?” the question comes softer this time, less teasing—more real.

you exhale slowly through your nose, “…i don’t know.” that’s partially true because you do know. you just don’t want to say it out loud. the hallway in the hotel, his hand on your ring, the way he looked at you, the way neither of you moved away. you remember all of it too clearly.

Hollis leans lightly against the railing beside you now, close enough your shoulders almost touch.“…felt like you got scared.”

you let out the faintest laugh. you’re not amused. you’re just nervous, “maybe i was.”

that gets his attention immediately. you feel it before you even look over. “…of me?” the way he asks it almost sounds careful, which somehow makes it worse.

you shake your head slightly, “no.” you say honestly, maybe even too honest. another silence.

the city wind moves softly through your hair. Hollis looks down briefly at his hands before speaking again, “…good.”

your heartbeat stumbles a little at how quietly he says it. you finally look at him fully now and that was a mistake. because he looks exhausted tonight, not just physically but also emotionally. all the pressure from today still sitting behind his eyes. all the interviews, the constant flash from the cameras, training so hard, and the expectations that are expected of him. underneath all of that—he still came here. to you.

“…today was bad?” you ask softly.

he huffs once through his nose, “not bad.” a pause. “just loud.”

your expression softens slightly because somehow that answer tells you everything. too many people needing things from him. too many cameras. too much pressure.

Hollis glances toward the city again, “everybody keeps watching me this week.”

you smile faintly, “you are the one fighting.”

“not like that.” his eyes shift back toward you slowly. suddenly, you understand exactly what he means. people watching: the interviews. the pictures. the way he looks at you.

your stomach tightens again, “they’ll get over it.”

“will you?” the question slips out quietly, naturally, like he didn’t mean to say it aloud. both of you go still afterward because there it is. it’s not a confession, but close enough to feel like one. you look at him carefully now, heart beating way too hard. Hollis doesn’t look away this time. he doesn’t hide it.

the city lights reflect faintly in his eyes while he watches you like he’s trying to figure something out, or maybe trying not to. your breath catches slightly when he steps closer. just one step, enough that your shoulder brushes his now. warm and solid. neither of you moves away. for one terrible second—you genuinely think he’s going to kiss you this time. his eyes flick briefly toward your mouth then back up again, slowly. your entire body goes still.

…

his phone vibrates sharply in his pocket, the moment breaks instantly. Hollis closes his eyes briefly like he hates the interruption. you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. he pulls his phone out, glances at the screen. his jaw tightens immediately afterward.

you notice it instantly, “what?”

he locks the screen again too quickly, “nothing.” lie, but before you can push further—he looks back at you again. making the tension’s even worse now. this time you both know exactly what almost happened.

your eyes search his face carefully now. you don’t see the headlines, or the arrogance, or the clips online. you just see him. tired, overworked, and trying so hard to hold himself together this week. and somehow still soft with you anyway. your chest aches a little at that realization.

Hollis watches you carefully, like he’s waiting for you to move away first. you don’t, instead—before you can overthink it—your hand lifts slowly toward his face. he goes still immediately when your fingers brush lightly against his cheek. warm skin, slight roughness from the forming bruise earlier. his breathing catches almost invisibly, “…y/n.” he says quietly, warning and disbelief all at once.

but you’re already too far gone now, because this is the part that ruins you: he looks at you like nobody’s taken care of him gently in a very long time. maybe that’s what finally does it. your fingers curl lightly against his jaw, warm skin beneath your fingertips with a slight roughness where the bruise from training started forming earlier. Hollis goes completely still, like even breathing too hard might ruin this moment. you can feel your own heartbeat everywhere now, in your throat, your chest, and your fingertips against his face. before you can lose the nerve—you lean in, your lips press softly against his. you kiss him carefully at first, almost hesitant. some part of you still can’t believe this is actually happening. you’re giving him the chance to stop you, to pull away, to remind you this is a bad idea. he doesn’t. for one full second, he freezes completely—stunned. his brain genuinely can’t catch up fast enough. you can’t lie, that almost makes you pull away until his hand suddenly slides to your waist, quickly and instinctively. the movement pulls a small breath from you immediately. then he’s pulling you closer, like he physically can’t help it anymore. that’s when the kiss changes completely. all the restraint between you finally snaps at once. the weeks of tension, the long looks, the late-night conversations, the constant touching, him almost saying something at the party, the ring he got you, and the almost kissing in hotel hallways—all of it crashes together at the same time. his grip tightens slightly against your side as he kisses you deeper now, warmer, needier. and god—Hollis kisses like he feels things too intensely. like he’s been holding this back for way too long. your other hand slides lightly against his chest without thinking, you can feel how fast his heart’s beating too which somehow affects you even worse. beneath all the confidence—all the arrogance—all the cameras and headlines and ego—he’s shaking just slightly under your hands like this matters to him more than he wants it to. his forehead brushes yours briefly when he breathes in between kisses, but neither of you fully pulls away. you can feel the warmth of his skin, his hand still firm against your waist, his thumb moving once against your side absentmindedly. the city around you disappears completely, no traffic, no music below, no fight week, no cameras. just him, just this. the kiss slows eventually, not because either of you wants it to—but because breathing becomes necessary. you pull back first, barely. just enough for air. your lips still almost brushing his. Hollis just stares at you. his breathing is uneven and his eyes are darker than before. he looks completely wrecked in a way you’ve never seen him look like you just shattered every bit of self-control he had left this week. honestly? you probably did.

immediately, reality crashes back in. your eyes widen slightly. oh my god. you just kissed him.

Hollis looks just as affected honestly, he’s still close enough that you can feel his breath against your skin.

neither of you says anything because what are you supposed to say after that? you’re his cut woman, his staff. this is stupid, reckless, and completely unprofessional. regardless, you already know you’d do it again. your hand slips slowly from his jaw, “…we probably shouldn’t have done that.” your voice comes out quieter than expected.

Hollis stares at you for another second then another, “probably not.” both of you sound uncertain about not doing it which is already a problem, what definitely makes it a problem is that he says it while still holding your waist.

neither of you moves. the wind brushes softly against your skin. his hand is still on your waist. your chest is still pressed lightly against his. that feels even more intimate now than the kiss itself. your brain is screaming at you finally. this is a mistake. this is reckless. you work for him. he has a fight in three days. but your body doesn’t seem interested in listening. Hollis is still looking at you like he hasn’t fully come back down yet either. his thumb shifts once against your waist again absentmindedly. it’s a small movement, barely there—still enough to make your stomach flip violently.

you let out a shaky breath, “this is bad timing.”you try to sound joking but you don’t.

Hollis huffs softly through his nose, almost a laugh. “yeah.” but he doesn’t let go, that’s the problem.

you finally force yourself to take half a step back, just enough to breathe properly again.

his hand slips from your waist slowly, reluctantly.

suddenly the air feels worse, you look away first. the city lights blur slightly below from how hard your heart’s pounding. “you should probably sleep,” you murmur quietly.

“probably.”

neither of you moves again. you almost laugh at how ridiculous this is because five minutes ago you were both pretending not to say what this was. now you’re standing on a rooftop trying to act normal after kissing like the world was ending.

Hollis runs one hand back through his damp hair slowly, still watching you.

“…you regret it?”

your head snaps toward him immediately, “what?”

his expression shifts slightly then. he’s less guarded. he’s not cocky, neither is he teasing. he’s honest in a way that almost hurts. “…the kiss.”

oh. your chest tightens instantly because suddenly you realize: he actually wants to know. this isn’t for his ego. this isn’t for reassurance. it’s because he genuinely cares what your answer is.

you stare at him for a second too long then shake your head slowly, “no.”

his entire body relaxes slightly, so slight most people wouldn’t notice. you do. it affects you more than anything else tonight because Hollis has spent weeks acting untouchable, reckless, unbothered. although with you, he’s been nothing that. and right now, he looks relieved. your heartbeat speeds up again, “…do you?” the question leaves your mouth before you can stop it.

Hollis looks at you for exactly one second before answering, “not even a little.”

god. you physically look away again trying to hide the effect that answer has on you. a quiet laugh escapes you under your breath. you’re so nervous, “we’re so screwed.”

that finally gets a real smile out of him. it’s small. you can tell he’s tired, but his voice is very soft—almost like a whisper. “probably.”

silence settles again after that. but now it feels completely different because now he knows and you know. there’s no pretending this is just tension anymore, it’s real now. deep down that realization terrifies you a little because the fight hasn’t even happened yet. the pressure this week is already crushing him. people are already watching too closely and somehow—despite every logical reason not to—you still want to kiss him again.

Hollis glances toward the rooftop door finally then back at you, “you should get some sleep.”

you nod slightly, “yeah.” another pause. neither of you says goodnight immediately because that suddenly too small for what just happened.

eventually, Hollis steps back first—barely. before he turns toward the door—his fingers brush lightly against yours. it’s a swift moved you can tell he’s being careful. he couldn’t leave without touching you one more time. that tiny gesture ruins you more than the kiss did because it feels real, it is real.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

the hotel feels quieter when you finally get back to your room. it’s way too quiet. you close the door behind you and lean back against it. you immediately close your eyes. bad idea because all you see is him. his hand on your waist, his voice, his smile. the way he looked relieved when you said you didn’t regret it.

your stomach flips again, “oh my god.” you bury your face in your hands. this is ridiculous. you’ve fought professionally. worked championship fights. traveled the world. and somehow one boy has completely ruined your ability to think.

you kick your shoes off, change into pajamas, brush your teeth, and wash your face.none of it helps. every time you stop moving—you think about the rooftop again. eventually you crawl into bed. then immediately stare at the ceiling. you’re awake. completely awake.

across the hotel—Hollis is having the exact same problem. his room is dark, phone face-down on the nightstand, and the city lights filtering faintly through the curtains. he’s been lying there for twenty-three minutes. not that he’s counting (he is). he rolls onto his side. then onto his back. then onto his other side. still awake. every time he closes his eyes—he remembers your hand on his face, the way you kissed him first, and the way you laughed afterward and said: “we’re so screwed.”

his mouth twitches despite himself then he groans. throwing an arm over his eyes, “yeah.”because he is. completely. his phone lights briefly on the nightstand. for one stupid second he considers texting you.

just: “you awake?”

that’s it, nothing crazy, nothing dramatic. he doesn’t—because if you’re awake too he already knows how that conversation ends.neither of you sleeping. instead, he flips his phone back over and stares at the ceiling again. still awake.

smiling like an idiot.

four doors away— you are doing the exact same things and neither of you knows it.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

you walk in ready for the day, your hair is still slightly damp from showering. your phone is in one hand. you’re halfway toward the table before you see him. Hollis is already there. he’s in a black beater, wearing his rings, and his hair is messy. his head is tilted slightly while Roman says something across the table. his eyes lift. and land on you immediately. your steps slow for maybe half a second. last night hits all over again. you remember his hand on your waist, the warmth of his mouth against yours, and the way he pulled you closer like instinct.

Hollis watches you approach quietly, he looks calmer today. which is pretty odd, he was a wreck yesterday, but you brushing that off. it’s good to see him look more toned down than yesterday. he doesn’t have that smug or cocky look on his face, neither is he acting different. he just looks softer around the edges somehow. almost like something in him settled after last night.

Nate notices you first, “finally,” he mutters dramatically. “somebody save me from listening to Roman talk about schedules.”

Roman doesn’t even look up, “because our schedules matter.”

“not at eight in the morning.”

you smile faintly, “good morning, guys.”

Ryan nods toward you, Nate’s still half-asleep. Roman slides a coffee order toward your seat automatically.

Hollis doesn’t say anything immediately, he just watches you pull your chair out beside Ryan. “you sleep at all?” Hollis asks out of nowhere. the question itself is normal, but the way he says it isn’t. it’s a little too quiet.

your stomach flips once, you glance at him finally. you really glance at him and regret it shortly after because now you know exactly what he looks like kissing you, “a little,” you answer calmly.

his eyes stay on you for one second longer than they should, “good.”

Ryan keeps talking about something across the table. Nate complains about training. Roman checks his phone. underneath all of it, something between you and Hollis changed permanently. deep down, you have no clue what to do. you think everybody’s going to start noticing soon, especially because now the tension isn’t uncertainty anymore.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

the streets are already crazy by the time you guys head out. cars moving too fast, music coming from all ends, and the warm morning air is all around the city. the group walks together toward the training gym a few blocks away. Nate’s talking loudly about breakfast, Ryan’s laughing at him, and Roman’s already on a phone call with somebody from the promotion.

you and Hollis end up beside each other again, like usual now. your shoulder brushes his occasionally while you walk. it’s not enough for anyone else to really notice but enough that both of you do.

both of you guys have sunglasses on today. Hollis has his hood up slightly despite the heat, the other hand is holding his drink. every now and then his arm bumps yours lightly when the sidewalk narrows. neither of you moves away anymore, “you alive?” he asks quietly beside you.

you glance toward him, “barely.”

“same.” his voice still sounds softer today. he sounds and acts less sharp around the edges. the worst part is that you think it’s only with you.

your phone vibrates suddenly in your hand. you glance down automatically then stop walking for half a second. the name staring back at you makes your stomach drop instantly. it’s Naomi, a very old friend. you haven’t seen that name on your phone in years. a text preview sits underneath it.

Naomi: heard i’ll see you thursday. crazy world lol.

your stomach turns immediately. everything around you suddenly feels too loud. another message appears before you can even process the first.

Naomi: i’m so proud of you btw.

your face changes before you can stop it. Hollis notices immediately, “what?”

you blink once and snap out of it fast. “nothing.” you say too quickly, trying to make it seem like nothing happened.

you lock your phone instantly and shove it back into your hoodie pocket. Nate’s still arguing with Ryan ahead of you. Roman’s distracted on his call.

nobody else notices, Hollis does.his eyes stay on you for another second behind the sunglasses, “didn’t look like nothing.”

you force a small shrug while continuing to walk, “just somebody from home.” you tell him which technically, it’s true.

Hollis watches you carefully now, not pushing (for now) but you can feel him thinking about it.

for the first time since he met you—you look pretty shaken, there was that moment at the mountain but it wasn’t like now.

you clear your throat slightly, trying to reset yourself. “what time are media people getting there today?” you change the subject.

Hollis notices that too, surprisingly—he lets you do it. “around noon.”

you nod once, trying to act composed. your fingers tighten slightly around your coffee cup. per usual, Hollis notices as well.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

Hollis already looks irritated before sparring even starts. he doesn’t look explosive, it’s worse. he’s too quiet which gives it away. it’s the kind of mood where everybody around him starts speaking a little more carefully.

you notice it immediately while wrapping supplies near the edge of the mat. his movements are sharper today and more aggressive.

Marcus notices too, “relax your shoulders,” he calls.

Hollis barely nods. he immediately goes too hard again. his sparring partner stumbles backward from a heavy hit.

Nate winces from nearby, “jesus.”

Ryan glances toward you briefly.

you can tell everybody can feel something’s off today.

Hollis wipes sweat from his mouth with the back of his glove, he’s breathing heavier now but his eyes keep flicking toward you. you get a weird feeling, you work with him and you two kissed. you kissed him first actually. you remember his hand on your waist, his mouth against yours, and the way he said: “not even a little.” your stomach tightens every single time you think about it.

another round starts and it gets messy fast. Hollis is distracted. you can tell. one second he’s too aggressive then half a second late.

Marcus notices immediately, “focus.”

Hollis throws another combination too recklessly. he gets caught up. his sparring partner’s glove catches him hard across the eyebrow. the crack echoes louder than expected and everyone pauses slightly.

Hollis barely reacts at first. then blood starts running down the side of his face.

“time,” Marcus says instantly.

Hollis backs up shaking his head already, “i’m fine.” he absolutely is not. blood drips down past his cheekbone now. his expression darkening immediately from frustration more than pain.

“bro,” Nate mutters quietly.

you’re already moving before anyone says anything else. your professional mode instantly taking over, “Hollis.”

he wipes the blood away with his glove roughly, annoyed. “i’m good.”

“you’re bleeding.”

“it’s nothing.”

another streak of blood runs down his temple immediately after he says it.

you stop directly in front of him now. “Hollis,” you say more firmly this time, “i need to patch you up. we don’t want this getting worse.”

his jaw tightens. he knows you’re right, but he’s too frustrated to stop yet. “one more round.”

“absolutely not,” you reply immediately.

his eyes snap toward yours at the tone. a beat passes. weirdly—he listens, not fully, not happily, but he stops arguing for half a second. which apparently shocks everybody nearby.

Ryan actually blinks. Nate looks openly confused. usually when Hollis gets like this nobody calms him down quickly. Past cut men and women have actually quit when it came to Hollis arguing back.

Marcus walks over finally, sweat towel around his neck. his expression unimpressed, “she’s right.”

Hollis exhales sharply through his nose, still angry.

Marcus points toward the cut, “this is sparring. not the damn fight.” silence.

Hollis finally looks away first, frustration rolling off him in waves. “…fine.”

your chest loosens slightly because you genuinely had no idea if he would listen, but he did, for you. that realization feels almost too intimate now.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

entering the medical room, everything is much quieter. muffled music through the walls, distant shouting, and gloves hitting pads somewhere far off. in the room, it’s only you two. the door clicks shut behind Hollis as he walks in first. he’s still sweaty and still irritated. the blood dried slightly near his eyebrow now. you follow him in carrying gauze, wraps, disinfectant, “sit.”

he drops onto the bench without arguing this time, which honestly says enough already. you step between his knees carefully to examine the cut better. Hollis tilts his head back slightly so you can look at it. his eyes stay on you the entire time. you try not to think about how close he is, you fail immediately. “it’s not too bad,” you murmur softly.

“felt worse.”

“that’s because you kept getting hit after it opened.”

he huffs quietly through his nose, not disagreeing. you dampen the gauze carefully before pressing it gently against the cut. Hollis flinches slightly.

“…dramatic,” you mutter.

his mouth twitches faintly,

“you’re enjoying this.”

“watching you get punched in the face? definitely.”

that finally pulls a quieter laugh from him. it was small, you can tell he’s tired. it didn’t sound fake either. and god—you think you like this version of him most.

the room falls quieter again after that. your fingers move carefully against his skin while cleaning the cut. you’re gentle and precise.

Hollis watches you the entire time. not even pretending otherwise. eventually, you feel it.

“…you keep looking at me like that.” his voice is low.

you glance up briefly, “like what?”

his eyes flick slowly across your face like he’s thinking too hard before answering, “like you’re somewhere else.”

your stomach tightens slightly because maybe you are. last night keeps replaying in your head against your will. rooftop, his hands, his mouth against yours. you focus back on the cut quickly,“i’m concentrating.”

“liar.” the word comes softer than teasing, almost fond.

you shake your head slightly trying not to smile,“hold still.”

he does, immediately. honestly, it affects you more than it should because Hollis listens to almost nobody. yet somehow—with you? he always eventually does.

once the cut’s cleaned properly, you move closer to place butterfly closures carefully across the split skin. his breathing shifts slightly when your thumb brushes near his temple. it’s small and barely noticeable, you notice anyway. the tension in here feels unbearable now. thick. warm. quiet.

your fingers linger for maybe half a second too long after finishing. Hollis notices that too.

“…you regret it now?” the question comes suddenly. he whispers it quietly.

your eyes lift toward his immediately. there it is again— not ego or arrogance, something more vulnerable than that. like despite everything—he still needs to know.

you stare at him for a second before answering honestly, “…if i regretted it,” you say softly, “i wouldn’t be here with you.”

silence.

his entire expression changes slightly after that. its subtle but enough. something in him eases again.

your chest tightens at the reaction. you clear your throat lightly afterward. trying to act professional again, or trying to be. “give me your hand.”

Hollis holds his hand out automatically.!you start wrapping it carefully. slow loops around his knuckles, his wrist, between his fingers. it feels too intimate now, everything does.

his gaze stays on your face while you work steady, heavy. “…come out with me later.”

you pause briefly mid-wrap, “what?”

“after media.” his voice stays calm. as if what he’s asking is normal. like asking you to walk around Mexico City alone with him after kissing you on a rooftop isn’t completely dangerous.

“where?”

he shrugs slightly, “don’t know yet.” a beat. “just wanna be around you.”

oh. your fingers tighten slightly against the wrap before you catch yourself.

Hollis notices immediately.

you finish securing the wrap carefully before finally looking up at him again. honestly, he probably does.

you swallow once, trying very hard to stay composed. “you’re making this difficult.”

his mouth tilts faintly, “you kissed me first.”

your breath catches instantly, because he’s right. “…Hollis.” the warning in your voice completely dies the second he smiles properly. the walk later tonight already feels inevitable.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

the second you and Hollis walk back into the gym, the noise hits again immediately. the private moment from five minutes ago already feels unreal, except not really because when Hollis walks past you toward the ring— his fingers brush lightly against your wrist first. the action was very subtle and swift. but it was still enough to make your stomach flip again. he steps back into training calmer now. still intense, still sharp but less reckless.

Marcus notices almost immediately, “better,” he says firmly after a clean combination.

Hollis just nods once, focused again.

from nearby, Nate watches the ring while sitting beside you against the wall. wrists wrapped and hoodie tied around his waist. “did you threaten him or something?” he asks suddenly.

you glance toward him, “what?”

Nate nods toward Hollis sparring again, “he was acting insane earlier.”

you try to keep your expression neutral, “he’s fine now.”

“yeah,” Nate says slowly. “that’s what’s weird.”

you fight a smile unsuccessfully. Nate notices immediately, “…oh my god.”

“stop.”

he laughs quietly under his breath. then leans back against the wall again. for a minute both of you just watch training. Ryan’s arguing with Marcus now. Roman’s helping one of the newer fighters nearby. Hollis lands another clean hit in the ring. the gym feels oddly comfortable suddenly.

Nate breaks the silence first, “you got any friends back home?”

the question catches you slightly off guard. you glance toward him again, “not really.”

“not really?”

you shrug faintly, trying to sound casual about it.“well…not anymore.”

Nate’s expression softens slightly.

you keep your eyes on the ring while speaking, “after high school everything kinda…” you pause briefly. “…changed.” technically the understatement of the century. “i just focused on work after that.” you pick lightly at the tape roll in your hands. “career stuff. traveling. fighting.”

a beat. “…didn’t really leave room for much else.”

Nate stares at you for a second, “wait.”

you already know that tone, “what?”

“are we your first friends?”

you laugh immediately. somehow hearing it out loud sounds ridiculous, “…basically, yeah. i’d consider you guys real ones.”

Nate looks genuinely offended for you, “that’s actually sad.”

you shove his shoulder lightly, “thanks.”

“no seriously,” he says, grinning now. “that means you’re stuck with us forever.”

your smile lingers longer than expected after that. weirdly—you think he means it.

Nate watches the ring again afterward, quieter this time. then: “…i got a fight in like two months.”

you glance toward him.

his expression’s different now. it’s less joking and more thoughtful.

“you nervous?”

he exhales quietly through his nose, “…kinda.” he says, voice full of honesty.

you nod slightly because you understand that feeling too well, “that’s normal.”

“yeah but,” he shrugs lightly, “everybody keeps acting like i should already know how to handle all this.”

you look at him carefully for a second, “you don’t have to act fearless all the time.”

Nate’s eyes flick toward you, listening closely now.

“being nervous before a fight doesn’t mean you’re not ready.” you glance toward the ring again where Hollis is training. “usually it means you actually care.”

silence settles briefly after that. Nate smiles faintly, “you’re good at this.”

“good at what?”

“people.”

you furrow your brow thinking about it because that’s probably the first time someone’s ever said that to you.

before you can answer though—Nate speaks again, quieter now. “…they’re finding cutmen for the rest of us after this trip.”

you nod slowly. you already knew that part. still—something about hearing it out loud feels strange.

Nate looks down at his wraps briefly before speaking again, “wish you were staying longer though.”

your expression softens immediately, “Nate—”

“i mean it,” he says quickly. “you make this stuff less terrifying.”

your chest aches a little at how sincere he sounds. you smile softly, “you’re gonna do great.”

Nate huffs quietly, “…yeah?”

you nod firmly. certain about you’re response, “yeah. i believe in you. you’ve improved a lot since i’ve started working here. ”

Nate smiles, “thanks to you. why did you even help me anyway?” he genuinely asks.

“because, i see me in you.”

across the gym, Hollis looks over toward you at that exact moment. and even from across the room—you can feel his eyes linger.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

lights. cameras. microphones. people talking over each other. you’ve been standing off to the side for almost twenty minutes already.

Nate’s interview finished, Ryan’s too, and Roman escaped somehow. that leaves Hollis, still sitting beneath bright studio lights. one leg bouncing slightly beneath the table, his hoodie sleeves pushed up, and fresh tape still visible around one wrist. he looks tired. it’s not enough for cameras to notice, but it’s enough for you to.

the interviewer smiles toward him, “you’ve been doing this for a long time now.”

Hollis nods once, “long enough.”

a few people laugh softly. “when you look back at your earlier career, what do you think about most?”

he leans back slightly in his chair, thinking. “…how young i was.”

the room chuckles, “fair.”

“seriously though.” his expression softens slightly. “i thought i knew everything.”

that gets a bigger laugh, even Hollis smiles.

“and now?” he huffs. “now i know i don’t.”

the interviewer nods, “what’s been the biggest change?”

a beat. “probably learning that talent isn’t enough.”

the room quiets slightly because that’s more honest than they expected.

Hollis shrugs, “there’s always somebody more talented.” another pause. “discipline matters more.”

Marcus, standing near the back of the room, looks vaguely proud. which is rare, he typically doesn’t express his facial expressions like that.

the interviewer glances down at her notes, “you’ve had a pretty public career.” that gets a small laugh from everyone. understatement. “there have been controversies.” another laugh.“more than one.”

Hollis smiles despite himself, “maybe.”

“how do you deal with criticism?”

his expression changes slightly. he’s not defensive, just thoughtful. “depends who’s talking.”

“what does that mean?”

he looks down briefly, “if it’s somebody i respect?” a shrug. “i listen.”

“and if it isn’t?”

“i don’t.” the answer comes so quickly the room laughs again.

the interviewer shakes her head, “that’s probably the most Hollis answer possible.”

“yeah.” more laughter. for a second things feel lighter. it feels easier.

“what are you most afraid of as an athlete?”

the room stills slightly, that’s a real question. Hollis goes quiet. the silence is long enough that people start paying attention, you do too.

something about his expression changes briefly, he looks tired again, more vulnerable. “wasting it.” the answer comes quietly.

“wasting what?”

his eyes flick downward, “the opportunity.” a pause. “not everybody gets to do this.”

you feel your chest tighten slightly because he means it. for all the headlines, all the ego, all the chaos. he genuinely means it.

the interviewer nods slowly, “and after boxing?”

Hollis immediately laughs, “after?”

“yeah.”

“i’m trying to survive Thursday first.”

the room erupts again, even you smile.

the interviewer glances toward a producer. who signals one final question. “last one.” the room settles.

“what keeps you grounded during weeks like this?”

you expect some generic answer. his family. his coaches. the routine he follows, something safe.

instead Hollis pauses, thinking. his eyes drift across the room and unfortunately—they land on you. only for a second, a teeny-tiny second but you see it. your stomach drops immediately. he looks away again just as fast.

the interviewer doesn’t seem to notice, thank god.

“…good people.” his answer is simple. “that’s probably it.”

the interviewer smiles, “good answer.”

Hollis just nods. the cameras finally cut and everybody relaxes instantly. conversations start up again. chairs move. people stand.

from across the room—Hollis finds you immediately. it’s not obvious or dramatic, it’s automatic. like after an hour of cameras and questions—you’re the first thing he wants to look for.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

after interviews you guys head back to the gym. the gym is closed to the public, mostly. the room is filled with: photographers, videographers, social media teams, sponsors, and promotion staff.

“stand over there.”

“look at me.”

“one more.”

“hold that pose.”

Nate looks seconds away from losing his mind, “i swear i’ve taken the same picture fourteen times.”

the photographer doesn’t even look up, “fifteen.”

Ryan immediately starts laughing.

Roman shakes his head, “you should’ve never corrected him.”

“he started it.”

“you started it.”

“that’s not the point.”

the room breaks into laughter, even the photographer smiles. “okay.” he points toward the ring. “let’s get some training shots.”

that gets everyone’s attention, finally. something they actually know how to do.

Nate jumps into the ring first, shadowboxing dramatically.

the photographer lowers his camera, “less movie trailer.”

Ryan nearly falls over laughing. Nate points at him, “yeah, you’re next.”

sure enough, Ryan gets photographed on the heavy bag. throwing combinations. moving naturally, looking annoyingly photogenic.

“he’s a natural,” Nate mutters.

Roman’s turn is somehow worse because he doesn’t even try. he just wraps his hands. looks up once.

click! click! click!

every photographer in the room loses their minds. “perfect.” “great.” “hold that.”

Nate looks offended, “he didn’t even do anything!”

Roman shrugs, “skill issue.”

Ryan starts choking laughing again.

“Hollis.” the room shifts slightly because even the photographers know. he’s the headliner.

the cameras immediately turn toward him. Hollis steps into the ring, already gloved, already sweating slightly from training. his hoodie is gone, along with his tank top. the bruise near his eyebrow visible now.

the room gets quieter. unlike the others, Hollis doesn’t pose. he just trains. the photographer follows him around the ring.

click! click! click.

jab. cross. slip.

click!

he works the mitts next. fast and sharp. the sound echoes through the gym.

POP! POP! POP!

cameras firing constantly. Marcus watches from nearby with arms crossed, looking satisfied for once.

“can we get some corner shots?” the photographer gestures toward the ropes. “make it look like fight night.”

Hollis sits down on the stool, elbows resting on his knees—breathing heavier now. he actually looks exhausted. he’s not the fighter and he’s not the celebrity, just a twenty-something year old carrying way too much pressure. the cameras eat it up.

click! click! click!

you’re standing off to the side, watching—because that’s your job, making sure he’s okay, making sure the cut hasn’t reopened, making sure he doesn’t overdo it.

The photographers finally call a break, “cut.”

“five minutes.” the room immediately relaxes. all the cameras lower, the lights dim slightly, and the crew members start moving equipment around.

Hollis sits down on the edge of the ring apron, his elbows resting on his knees, and his gloves hanging loosely from his hands. he looks so exhausted. he doesn’t look like anything the world perceives him as. he looks like regular guy who’s been training since god knows how early.

you grab a water bottle from nearby and the towel sitting beside you. before settling down on the ring apron a few feet from him, “here.”

Hollis takes the bottle without looking, “thanks.”his voice sounds rough. he twists the cap off immediately and takes a long drink.

you sit quietly beside him, watching him carefully. same as always, “how’s the cut?”

his eyes shift toward you. you scoot a little closer, carefully lifting his chin slightly. the bruise near his eyebrow has darkened. but thankfully—the cut itself looks okay. “looks good.” you nod once. “don’t touch it.”

“that’s your advice?”

“that’s my professional opinion.”

he huffs a laugh, “very inspiring.”

you roll your eyes, “you’re welcome.”

another sip of water. another quiet moment. “my neck hurts.” he says suddenly.

you blink, “your neck?”

Hollis shrugs, “right side.” he reaches up absently, touching just beneath his jaw. “think i slept weird.”

“or.” you gesture toward the gym. “you’ve been getting punched professionally.”

“could be that too.”

you laugh then move closer, “let me see.”

he doesn’t hesitate, not even a little. he just tilts his head toward you automatically like he trusts you to.

your fingers brush lightly against the side of his neck. checking for swelling, tension, and anything concerning. his muscles immediately tense beneath your fingertips. you don’t notice, he definitely does.

“that hurt?” you press gently.

“nah.”

a pause, “there?”

“little bit.”

you hum softly, thinking. “you’re fine.”

“wow.” he sounds relieved. “thanks, doctor.”

“you’re very dramatic.”

“i know.”

you smile despite yourself.

“stay there.” the photographer tells the both of you.

you blink, “what?”

“don’t move.”

before you can react— click! it’s a picture. both of you sitting on the edge of the ring, one hand still near his neck. both of you focused entirely on each other. completely unaware. the photographer immediately looks down at the screen, “…that’s good.” he takes two more.

click! click!

you don’t think much of it. you lean back again, already focused on whether Hollis needs more water. whether training starts again soon. whether Marcus is about to yell at somebody.

Hollis does though. when he glances toward the monitor—he catches sight of the photo. suddenly—every other picture from today feels stupid. the glove shots. the ring shots. the sponsor shots. all of it. because this one isn’t posed, you aren’t looking at the camera, he isn’t looking at the camera. you’re looking at him, checking if he’s okay. for some reason—that picture affects him more than every promo shot they’ve taken all week.

voguelatam

❤︎ 198k ☁︎ 7,208 ⌯⌲ 63.6k

liked by rommulas, nate_sib, and others

voguelatam Fight week in Mexico City. Four fighters spending endless hours in the gym. A city watching their every move. Between training, cameras, and preparation, the work never stops. Days before stepping into the ring, Hollis Frazier-Herndon (@2hollis), Nate Sib (@nate_sib), Ryan Demma (@antihumanform), and Roman Leal (@rommulas) trade the spotlight for the gym floor—where the real work happens.

Photographed exclusively for Vogue Latin America

voguefanatic vogue knew EXACTLY what they were doing putting that photo last

fightweekmx mexico city chapter is feeding families

2hollisluvr can somebody explain why the candid feels more intimate than the actual couple photos i’ve seen online

-> user cause they’re dating

-> user WHAT?!

-> user i meann i would get with the white tiger too

ryansbiggestfan the way they’re all naturally photogenic is annoying

fightgirly y/n checking his injury and him looking normal about it????

-> user i swear he was evil

sweetlikehoney y/n nation we are UP

natesibsdih nate 🤤🤤

sydneyluvs ryan in these pictures is something i was NOT prepared for today

fightnightupdates mexico city looks good on them

angelnumbers444 okay but the candid?????

-> user y/n 😭😭😭 is 😭😭 so 😭😭 lucky😭😭

trapdabgod OUUU SHIII

hollisbabi HOLLIS IS SO FINE

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

Hollis is at peace, finally. he steps out of the shower. his hair is damp. he throws on a black beater. a towel draped around his neck. he grabs his phone from the nightstand. three notifications. one from Roman, one from Nate, and one group chat. he opens it and scrolls and keeps scrolling. the farther he gets—the worse it gets. his jaw tightens slightly. he keeps reading.

13 -> 20

Hollis leans back against the headboard thinking. suddenly: the long hours. the constant work. the way she always dodges personal questions makes a little more sense. he thinks about this morning, the way her face dropped after that text from Massachusetts. she immediately pretended she was fine and the way she always pretends she’s fine. his thumb taps once against the side of his phone. before he can overthink it—he opens your messages and stares at the empty chat. he types. deletes. types again. three dots. he stares at the screen and sends another.

21

across the hall, you’re sitting cross-legged on your bed. still half-working. you’ve been answering emails because apparently that’s your favorite hobby. your phone buzzes. you glance down and immediately smile. which is embarrassing. very embarrassing. you open it and read it once. you read it again and immediately know exactly what he’s talking about. he’s talking about earlier in medical room when he’d casually mentioned walking around the city together later.

you type back. seen, almost immediately. which tells you he was already staring at his phone. your smile grows. you laugh, actually laugh. alone in your hotel room like an idiot. another text appears. your stomach flips at how serious he is. he is not flirting and he’s not teasing you, he’s actually asking. you bite your lip realizing what you’ve gotten yourself into. it’s wrong but… you can’t stop.

22 -> 23

6 o’clock comes faster than either of you expect, which is probably a bad sign. somehow you’ve spent the last hour checking the time every ten minutes (not that you’d ever admit that). your phone buzzes, it’s Hollis. he’s downstairs. your stomach immediately flips. it’s annoying, very annoying. you grab your room key and head for the elevator. you try very hard to act normal. getting to the lobby, you can see it is busy. it’s nearly filled with everyone trying to get everywhere but you spot him immediately, he’s standing near the entrance. his hands are shoved into his pockets. he’s wearing black shirt, black jeans, and black shoes. he’s looking entirely too good for somebody supposedly going on a casual walk. he looks up and finds you instantly. his expression softens slightly, “hey.”

“hey.” you stop beside him. neither of you moves, which feels ridiculous because you’ve literally kissed. somehow this feels more awkward.

Hollis saves both of you, “ready?”

you nod, “yeah.”

the warm air hits immediately when the hotel doors open. the city is still very much alive, everything glowing gold beneath the setting sun. for a while—you just walk side by side. it feels very natural and comfortable, like you’ve done this a hundred times before even though you haven’t.

you glance toward him, “where are we going?”

he shrugs, “no idea.”

you stare, “that’s your plan?”

“worked so far.”

you laugh, “you’re unbelievable.”

“that’s what people tell me.”

you shake your head, still smiling. Hollis catches it. he notices everything lately—especially when it comes to you.

the sidewalk gets busier: people passing in every direction, a family, street vendors, friends taking pictures. the city feels alive in a way that’s impossible not to love.

you slow slightly near a small stand selling snacks, mostly because you’re curious, partly because you got distracted.

Hollis notices immediately, “you hungry?”

“always.”

“good.” he points. “normal answer.”

you laugh, “what was the wrong answer?”

“‘no thanks, i’m surviving entirely on caffeine and stress.’”

you stare at him, “…that’s oddly specific.”

“because it is.”

you roll your eyes but he’s smiling now, that real smile. the one that’s become increasingly dangerous for your health. every time you see it—you understand a little more why this happened.

the lights begin flickering on around you. the sky turning darker overhead. for the first time all week—it’s peaceful. although with Hollis, you find peace in only the two of you. there are no cameras or interviews. there isn’t coaches yelling nonstop or sponsors needing content. there isn’t any expectations. it’s just the two of you walking through Mexico City pretending this isn’t a date while both of you know perfectly well that it is.

somehow—you end up back on the rooftop again. it feels ridiculous and strangely inevitable. the city stretches endlessly below. there is millions of lights. you can hear music from the top of the hotel and see hundreds of cars going about their night. it’s beautiful to look at. you lean lightly against the railing taking it all in.

while neither of you says much, just enjoying it. the break from everything. you’ve also grew to enjoy Hollis’ company.

you exhale softly, “…i’m really glad i came.”

Hollis glances over, “to Mexico?”

you smile, “a little.”

he huffs a laugh, “what’s the other part?”

you look back out at the skyline thinking. somehow it’s harder to say than you expected, “all of this.” a pause. “the trip.” another pause.“you guys.” your fingers tighten slightly around the railing, “you.” the last word comes out quieter. it almost gets lost beneath all the noice around you guys but he hears it.

when you glance over—he’s already looking at you. he’d just listening to you talk, really listening. which makes it easier. you smile softly, “i don’t think i’ve had this much fun in years.”honest, completely honest.

“that’s kinda sad.”

you immediately laugh, “wow.”

“just saying.”

“thank you for that.”

he grins, “you’re welcome.”

you shake your head still smiling. your expression softens again, “no but seriously.” your eyes drift back toward the city, “thank you.”

Hollis goes quiet because he knows you mean it. not just the trip, everything. the coffee. the walks. the conversations. the way he keeps showing up. all of it. his jaw shifts slightly, almost uncomfortable with being thanked. “you don’t have to thank me.”

“i do.” you glance at him. “you’ve showed me a lot.”

his brows pull together slightly, “like what?”

you think about it for a second, “how to have fun again.” the words leave before you can stop them. you feel the air change slightly because that’s not a casual answer. it’s real. you look down briefly, laughing once under your breath.“that sounded dramatic.”

“little bit.”

you nudge his shoulder. he smiles but it fades after a moment because he notices something. the way your expression changed afterward, the way your eyes dropped. the way they always do when things get personal. he doesn’t let you escape it, not this time. “…what happened?” he asks.

you furrow a brow, “hm?”

“i’m not dumb Y/n, i saw how you looked when you got that text.”

your heartbeat stutters, you know what he means now.

you stare out at the city again. for the first time since meeting him—you seriously consider telling him. the rooftop falls quiet, the wind brushes softly through your hair.beside you—Hollis waits. he’s not pushing you to answer. well, technically he is but he’s just there. letting you decide.

“…Massachusetts?” he asks quietly.

your press your lips into a thin line. you stare out at the skyline for another second. then another.“what do you know about Massachusetts?”

Hollis shrugs lightly, “nothing.” a pause. “just seems like every time somebody mentions home you look like you want to leave the room.”

you let out a short laugh, not because it’s funny, because he’s right. “that’s rude.”

“it’s true.”

you hate that it’s true. you look down briefly, “so, who told you about that?”

Hollis glances over, “nobody told me anything.” a beat. “Ryan and Nate just said you don’t really talk to anybody back home.”

of course. you shake your head, already feeling embarrassed. “they weren’t supposed to tell you that.”

“they didn’t make it sound dramatic.”

“because it isn’t.” lie, both of you know it’s a lie. the silence stretches and for a second you almost abandon the conversation completely and change the subject or make a joke. except Hollis is still standing there just waiting which makes you feel worse.

you exhale slowly, “i used to have people.” your voice comes out quieter than expected. Hollis doesn’t interrupt you. just listens.

“one friend, mostly.”

your throat tightens slightly. even now—years later—it still hurts a bit, “my best friend.” you laugh softly but it comes out bitter. “i don’t know, everything that led up to that week ruined everything.” your eyes stay fixed on the city because looking at him feels impossible right now. “i think i just had a lot going on.”

Hollis’ jaw tightens slightly but he stays quiet. you appreciate that more than he knows, “i was so exhausted. like… genuinely exhausted. every day felt like I was drowning.” the memories now feel like a bruise. “i wasn’t sleeping or eating right. i was just trying to finish high school and i was getting ready to fight the person i’d spent years calling my best friend.”

“your best friend?” Hollis asks, his voice is quieter now. it sounds more careful, trying not to push too hard. you stare out at the city for a second.

then nod, “she was my best friend.” the words feel strange now given the fact that the both of you are older now. the word belongs to somebody else. “everything that led up to that week just ruined everything.” a pause. “our friendship included.”

the city lights blur together below.

you fold your arms tighter across yourself, “we trained together since we were kids.” another pause. “same gym, same coaches, same everything.” a humorless laugh slips out, “people compared us constantly.” you shake your head, “we used to joke about it.”

Hollis listens quietly.

“then the fight got announced. senior year and graduation week.” “and everything just…” you search for the word. “…fell apart.” “i had to complete nearly all my finals. i was on the verge of not graduating for my attendance. i was training every morning and night.” you huff a laugh, “and god, my dad is was breathing down my neck every second.” you shake your head. “he wanted me to win that fight so badly.” you remember the expectations every had. you also remember her, always her. “everything became about fighting.” your voice stays steady, barely. “and then I found out she was seeing him.”

Hollis’ brows pull together, “…him?”

“the guy I was with.” you glance down, suddenly unable to look at him. “i don’t even think they meant for me to find out.” a bitter laugh leaves you, “but I did.”

silence. the city now feels quieter. you kick lightly at the concrete beneath your shoe. “imagine if your best friend took the only person you’ve ever wanted.” your voice comes out softer now, less angry and more honest. “wouldn’t that hurt you?”

when you finally look over—Hollis is already staring at you intensely. his expression is unreadable. “yeah.” he says immediately. “It’d hurt me a lot.”

something in your chest tightens because he says it like he means it. like he’s actually imagining it. you look away first.

“I lost both of them in the same week.” your throat tightens but you’re not sure why, it’s old news. “and after the fight…” a pause. “nothing felt the same.”

the rooftop falls quiet and the wind moves softly around both of you.

“…did you ever miss her?” Hollis asks. the question catches you completely off guard.

you stare out at the city thinking, actually thinking. nobody’s ever asked you that before.“every day.” you tell him being honest about it. “at first.” a long pause. “now?” you give a small shrug, still a little sad about it. “I think I miss who she used to be.”

there’s a shared silence between the two.

“it all sounds stupid now. it was high school but at seventeen?” you shrug, “it felt like the end of the world. there’s just some things that ruin your ability to trust anybody like that again.”

you can still feel Hollis staring. he’s not judging you about it, which makes it harder.

“i was just a wreck. i was angry, hurt, but, if anything—i felt so embarrassed. everybody kept telling me to focus.” you shake your head. “and I couldn’t.” because that’s the truth, the honest truth. you swallow, “my head wasn’t in the fight at all.”

the memory hits harder now of everything that happened in the ring, “i got hurt.” your voice drops. “i got hurt really bad.”

for what feels like the first time tonight—you glance toward him. his expression immediately changes into concern.

you look away again, “the cut woman I had that night…” a small faint smile appears, “she basically put me back together.” you laugh softly, “afterward she told me something.”

“what?”

you think back to that night. sitting in a locker room with ice against your face, feeling like your entire life had fallen apart, “she said there are different ways to stay in the sport.” your smile grows slightly. “that fighting isn’t the only way.”you glance toward the city. “she’s the reason i became a cut woman.”

the rooftop falls quiet again but this silence feels different. its a lot light now that he knows. you finally look at him again and immediately regret it. because Hollis isn’t looking at you differently. he’s looking at you exactly the same, maybe softer.

“what?” you ask.

his eyes stay on yours steadily, watching your every move. “nothing.” lie.

you narrow your eyes, “Hollis.”

he huffs quietly through his nose then looks back out at the city, “that’s a lot for anybody.” he says simply. no pity. no treating you like you’re fragile, just understanding.

“i’m over it. sometimes when you remember things they hurt like the first time it happens. im also just a little to dramatic.”

he huffs, running a hand through his hair. “you can be.”

you roll your eyes lovingly, “thanks.”

“you’re welcome.” the smile lingers for a second before it disappears. you notice the way his shoulders tense and the way his jaw tightens afterward. it’s barely noticeable but you’ve spent enough time around fighters to recognize it immediately. he’s anxious. you tilt your head slightly, “what?”

Hollis blinks, “what?”

“don’t do that.”

his brows furrow, “do what?”

“the thing where you pretend everything’s fine.” a beat.” “i invented that.”

that finally gets a small laugh out of him.

you smile then your expression softens, “seriously.”

for a second you think he’s going to dodge the question.

“weigh-in’s tomorrow.” he says out of no where, telling you the truth.

you stare because that’s not what you expected, “…okay?”

he looks out toward the city, not at you “everybody keeps acting like the fight’s already won.”

his voice stays calm but you hear it—the pressure underneath.

“the promotions, interviews, coaches.” he laughs quietly without humor. “even my own friends.”

you don’t say anything, just listen. the same way he listened to you.

“and if i lose?” that gets your attention immediately because Hollis never talks like that, ever.

he notices your expression and shakes his head, “i’m not saying i will.”

“i know.”

his jaw shifts, “but everybody keeps talking about the future.” another pause. “nobody talks about what happens if i screw it up.”

your chest aches slightly. suddenly—he doesn’t sound like the loud, reckless guy from the interviews. he sounds young and tired.

you step a little closer, your shoulder brushing his lightly. “you won’t.”

he glances at you, “you don’t know that.”

“i do.” the answer comes immediately without hesitation. that catches him off guard. you smile softly, “because i’ve seen you this week and the weeks before that.” a pause. “i’ve seen how hard you’ve worked.” another pause. “you care way too much to lose.”

his eyes stay on yours. focusing on what you have to say—like he’s trying to memorize every word. your hand finds his forearm gently, “you’re allowed to be nervous.” you squeeze lightly. “that doesn’t mean you’re going to fail.”

something in his expression shifts, not completely but it’s enough that you know he believes you—at least a little.

the rooftop falls quiet again. its comforting until hollis speaks again. “…can i ask you something?”

your stomach immediately flips because of the way he says it too casual which means it’s definitely not casual.

“depends.”

“another kiss.”

you immediately choke on your own breath, “Hollis.”

he laughs, actually laughs for the first time all night. “that’s not a no.”

you point at him, “you are impossible.”

“i’ve been told.”

you try so hard not to smile and fail immediately because unfortunately—he looks entirely too pleased with himself. “it’s a bad idea.”

“probably.”

“very unprofessional.”

“definitely.”

“you have a fight in two days.”

“one day.”

“see? even worse.”

he takes one small step closer and suddenly you’re forgetting your own argument. which is irritating, very irritating. his eyes flick briefly toward your mouth then back up and your heart almost stops. you lift a finger quickly,

pressing it lightly against his lips before he can say another word.

his eyes widen slightly, more surprised than you’ve ever seen him.

“absolutely not.” you tell him. trying—and failing—to sound stern. “you’re not getting another kiss until after the fight.”

a pause. his brows lift and you smile, “after you win.”

the look he gives you afterward nearly destroys your ability to think completely.

the conversation finally starts drifting away from serious things. the tension isn’t gone, it’s just easier now that neither of you guys are hiding anymore.

Hollis glances down at his phone, “we’ve been up here forever.”

you laugh, “that’s your fault.”

“how?”

“you asked questions.”

“you answered them.”

“yeah because you’re nosy.”

he actually smiles, “you’re one to talk.”

you roll your eyes then something catches your attention, “…wait.”

Hollis looks over, “what?”

you pull your phone out and check the time. you immediately groan, “oh my god.”

“what?”

“It’s almost midnight.”

that gets a laugh out of him, “ no way.”

you hold up your screen, “look.”

11:47 PM. the weigh-in is tomorrow, training starts early. and somehow you’ve spent half the night standing on a rooftop talking.

you point dramatically, “Hollis.”

he already knows what’s coming, “no.”

“Hollis.”

“no.”

“you need sleep.”

“i sleep.”

“you literally don’t.”

“sometimes.”

you stare and he stares back. “…that’s not helping your argument.”

a laugh escapes both of you. you notice the city lights behind him. the skyline, the moment, and an idea hits, “wait.”

“what?”

“come here.”

His eyebrows lift immediately, “why?”

“just come here.” You pull your phone out, “picture.”

“oh.” a beat. “…that’s less exciting.”

you nudge his arm, “get over here.”

he finally steps close beside you, way too close. neither of you mention it.

you turn the camera around, the city glowing behind both of you. your shoulder brushing his, the wind moving through your hair.

“ready?”

“no.”

click! the picture takes anyway. you immediately laugh because Hollis wasn’t looking at the camera, at all. he was looking at you, “…you’re impossible.”

he leans over slightly, looking at the screen.“that’s not bad.”

“it’s literally proof you weren’t paying attention.”

“i was.”

“no you weren’t.”

his eyes flick toward yours briefly, “…sure.”

your stomach betrays you instantly, you decide not to acknowledge that—very mature. you save the photo then point toward the rooftop door, “alright.”

“what?”

“we’re done.”

“no.”

“yes.”

he groans dramatically and you laugh, “Hollis, seriously.”

a smile tugs at his mouth, “you sound like my Marcus.”

“good.” you start walking toward the door. he falls into step beside you automatically like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

the elevator ride down is quiet. neither of you looking at your phones and neither of you really want the night to end. eventually, you guys reach your floor. the hallway is mostly empty and it’s quiet.

your room sits only a few doors away, you top outside it and turn toward him. neither of you says anything again. saying goodnight suddenly feels harder than it should. you smile softly first, “good luck tomorrow.”

his expression shifts. his confidence and his jokes are gone for a second. it’s just him looking at you, “…thanks.”

you hesitate. before you can overthink it—you lean forward and pull him down. you press a quick kiss against his cheek. its soft and warm. it’s gone almost immediately. when you pull back

Hollis looks completely caught off guard, actually speechless.

personally, you think it might be your greatest achievement so far. you smile, trying not to laugh. “goodnight, Hollis.”

for a second he just stares before finally saying, “…night.”

you swipe your keycard and open your door. before stepping inside—you glance back one last time and he’s still standing there, watching you. still looking slightly flustered, which makes your smile grow.

then the door closes. Hollis remains in the hallway for another few seconds. staring at the spot where you disappeared before quietly touching the cheek you kissed. he’s realizing sleep is definitely not happening tonight.

﹏𓃬_𓃮𓃮﹏𓃮﹏ 𓃮

your hotel room is dark. you can faintly see the lights through the curtains. your phone sits abandoned on the nightstand. emails are unanswered for once. you’re exhausted in everything— emotionally, physically, and mentally. the rooftop conversation keeps replaying in your head: the city, the lights, the pictures. more importantly—the way he looked at you and the fact you kissed on his cheek. your face immediately buries deeper into your pillow. it’s embarrassing with how you feel about everything when it comes to Hollis, very embarrassing. regardless, he smile still sneaks onto your face anyway.

eventually, sleep wins. your breathing slows.

and for the first time in years—fall asleep feeling lighter.

across the hotel—Hollis is having the exact opposite experience. he’s flat on his back. staring at the ceiling, wide awake. one arm is behind his head the other is resting across his stomach. he hasn’t moved in fifteen minutes. not because he’s tired but because his brain won’t shut up. the weigh-in is tomorrow.

the fight is getting so close now. media, training, and interviews would be all he’d thinking about. instead—he’s thinking about you.

which is a problem, a massive problem. his eyes close briefly. immediately he sees: you laughing in the café, you singing one of his old songs, the lucha libre masks, you wrapping his hands, the rooftop, the way you looked at him tonight, and the kiss on his cheek.

his eyes open again, “…fuck.” the word slips quietly into the darkness. somewhere between coffee runs and late-night conversations—this stopped being a crush, or curiosity, or flirting. and became something worse, something real.

he actually likes you, a lot. the realization settles heavily in his chest. and somehow that’s scarier than the fight. because fighting? he’s done that majority of his life. this? this is completely different.

his phone vibrates suddenly against the mattress. the sound breaks through the silence. Hollis grabs it without thinking. expecting Marcus, Roman, random fight update. deep down, he expects it to be you.

Instead: Melissa

his stomach immediately drops, not because he’s excited. its the exact opposite. he stares at the screen. the message preview appears.

Melissa: seen you’re in mexico

a second message arrives.

Melissa: looks fun

Melissa: you gonna answer me or keep pretending i don’t exist?

Hollis closes his eyes briefly, immediately annoyed. six months ago maybe this would’ve affected him. maybe he would’ve answered. maybe he would’ve cared. now all he can think about is how different it feels, how empty this feels. compared to standing on a rooftop talking to you for hours. compared to the way you kissed his cheek. compared to the way you told him good luck.

his thumb hovers over the screen for a second, then another. finally, he locks the phone and tosses it back onto the nightstand. face down, unread, ignored.

for the first time—Melissa isn’t the person keeping him awake at night anymore. you are. and that’s when Hollis realizes he’s completely screwed.

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