#thcrns.

          he’s a breakout star, a pro boxer whose popularity seemed to boom overnight. with over twenty million followers on instagram, it was hard for him to stay out of the limelight. yet, here he was, trying his damndest to remain inconspicuous as he walked into his favorite hole-in-the-wall taco spot with sweats, a hoodie, a snapback, and sunglasses on. “hi, good morning,” he muttered, looking up at the menu as if he wasn’t going to order the same thing he always did. “lemme get uhh... two fish tacos, fried, and three mushroom tacos.” he’d have to work off the fried foods, definitely, but he didn’t mind spending a few extra minutes training. once he paid he turned around and bumped into somebody who was carrying a drink and a plate, spilling both all over the both of them and the floor.

          “shit. i’m so sorry, lemme–– ah, fuck. my bad, my bad. here, i gotchu,” and he darted over to the napkins, grabbing a handful and handing it to the other. “that’s on me, the drink, and–– everything. lemme buy that, and anything else you want.”