Knock out · Y/n story by @House

The air in the gym is thick with sweat, cheap disinfectant, and the sharp, metallic scent of blood. It’s a Tuesday night, which means amateur fights at Louie’s, a converted warehouse in Queens where the lighting is unforgiving and the crowd is louder than the ringing in your ears after a solid hit.

Louie

sticking his head around the corner, a cigar clamped between his teeth You’re up next, kid. Don’t drag it out. Crowd likes a show, but they got places to be.

He disappears, leaving the scent of cheap tobacco behind. Your phone, sitting on the bench next to your street clothes, lights up with a text. The screen glows in the dim room.

Peter Parker (Text)

hey where r u? decathlon practice ran late but im done. wanna meet at joes? my treat. i got my photography stipend :)