Ablaze

16

I was in the gym, pummelling my fists into the boxing bag with no end in sight. My motions were much less awkward as I bounced on my feet. My fists would strike rapidly, breathing in short bursts of hot air. I had been coming down here every morning, using it to let out some of the seemingly neverending anger I held onto. It's not like I had become a miraculous boxer, but I was slowly finding the confidence within myself. It was empowering to feel in control of my limbs and exhausting the muscles in my body instead of sitting on my bed all day like I had been forced to.

Feeling a presence hovering behind me, my body immediately sensing an audience, my spine straightened. I turned, straining to control my bewilderment when I realized Zayn was standing patiently behind me. He was dressed in workout clothing, his hands in the pockets of his shorts, his face completely relaxed. He was trying to appear approachable instead of intimidating, his posture casual.

I hadn't seen much of Zayn, sometimes bumping into him in the dining room, but our conversations were always short, usually only exchanging pleasantries. I didn't know why he was still so blunt, but I tried not to let it bother me, knowing I would fall down a rabbit hole of uncertainty.

Lowering my hands, I put a cordial smile on my face, waiting for him to speak.

"Remember to guard your face, but be ready to block your stomach." He instructed, getting straight to the point. His tone was laid-back, and I conceded he likely didn't know any other way to break the ice.

I blinked, momentarily startled, before quickly nodding, "Thanks, Zayn, I'll remember that. I feel more like a baby deer than a boxer."

Zayn chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, "Nah, you're fine. Use your height to your advantage. The men you'll go up against will aim more for your face as it's an easier swing."

"You do any cosmetic practice? I don't know if Harry would appreciate it if I had a crooked nose," I joked, appreciating Zayn's demeanor.

Mentioning Harry's name was tactful on my part, wanting to gauge his reaction.

His warm smile deepened, lighting up his honey-colored eyes, "Please, at this point, Harry's a frequent flyer. I'll give you a two-for-one deal."

My laugh was genuine, and I was pleased with his response. My chin jutted at the treadmills, "Are you going to get some sprints in?"

"Yeah, it helps to relieve some of the tension from work," His jaw clenched slightly as he thought about it, and I felt empathetic towards him.

"Well, I'm sure you're doing a great job. I mean, you kept me alive." I gestured to myself to further my point.

"Thanks, El. I'm glad to see you doing better. I'll leave you to it. Remember what I told you!" His voice was oddly enthusiastic, but I shrugged it off, knowing it was probably stress from his job.

He waved over his shoulder as he headed to the treadmills, diving straight into his warm-up. That was it for the interaction, and I observed him dump his bag on the floor, situating himself on the treadmill.

It was odd, but I figured maybe he was trying to ease any tension and was unsure how I would react. I mean, Harry did give him a beating over me, so I could understand why he was hesitant. I certainly didn't blame him for it. I just hoped it was Zayn's way of conveying it was all good, and now we could move past it. I had let it be, not wanting to force a friendship between us if he held resentment, but I was glad to see he was trying.

Turning back to the punching bag, I began hitting it again. I kept Zayn's advice in mind, keeping my face guarded as I continued. My jaw was clenched, my teeth grinding against each other as my eyes zeroed in on the bag. The time spent making a victim out of it permitted my thoughts to alleviate, dissipating like a cloud of smoke.