A/N sorry but look how good luke looks

MICHAEL

The first time I found myself in a boxing ring was when I was eleven years old, my heart throbbing in the center of my chest like it was trying to break free. I remember the air smelled like sweat and blood, and the slightly padded ground under my feet was worn down and slightly slippery. A trainer had stuck a mouth guard in between my lips and forced a pair of boxing gloves over my hands, and my heart thudded in my chest all the while.

I'm not sure how or why I ended up in the ring. It was so long ago, the reasons leading up to it are all so inconsequential. All I know is that I was good at it, and it was maybe the first thing that I had done that I realized I was actually good at. So, naturally, I stuck with it.

I didn't realize how important it would be to me today.

Today is a Friday night, which is most definitely the busiest day underground. Work is over, people who have been in the business for ages can come down and place bets on a fight. It's routine, running along the generations like a tradition.

It was my trainer who introduced me to it, when I turned sixteen. To be honest, I was a bit scared. But then I met Ashton, who was already eighteen, and was just about the most enthusiastic person I'd ever met about fighting. He had the body for it—strong muscles and wide shoulders. I'm a bit of a shrimp compared to him, but we already made an agreement that we wouldn't fight each other unless it was completely necessary. And so far, it hasn't been.

The fighting club is busy tonight, as it always is. It is dark, musky, bits of dust occasionally floating down and coating our skin whenever a train passes above us. We're directly under the railroads, which serves us at an advantage, because nobody messes around where the trains are unless they want to be killed.

I made my prediction long ago that this place was build a long time ago, back when people use to build little caves underground, for whatever reason they might be. From what I've heard, it was completely empty but perfectly well in shape when it was first discovered by some boxing trainer. Since then, it's been kept a secret.

There's apparently some law against placing bets on fighters, or maybe it has something to do with the location, but whatever it is, we would all be in handcuffs in anyone found out. Which would suck, because this is my career, it's how I support myself. Not my fault the one thing I love has to be illegal.

It doesn't take long for people to fill up the room, loud voices echoing off the rock walls, the fluorescent light bulbs hanging from a wire on the ceiling. Half of them are burned out, all of us too lazy to actually repair them. Most people just say it adds to the ambiance.

Ashton appears beside me, a smile on his face as he pats my shoulder light-heartedly. Dimples sink into his cheeks.

"Glad you're here, mate," he says. "How is everything?"

"Peachy," I answer, and take a swig of the drink in my hand. I watch the first two fighters climb into the ring, and listen to the roaring sound of people placing their bets, fishing loose cash out of their pockets.

The visitors have to pay to get in, and the money is split up to be given to us boxers. But then people started placing bets on who would win, and somehow the winning fighter gets half of all the bet money, or something like that. To be honest, I'm not sure how it works. The trainers take care of all the finances, while we get our fists bloody.

The two boxers start throwing punches, and I naturally tune out the sound of everyone around them cheering them on. I turn back towards Ashton, and only just now notice the shadow behind him.

"Hey, Calum," I greet, and watch as Calum slips from behind Ashton, his hand held secure in Ashton's. Calum is always extra clingy down here, with all the loud people and fighting. I think it scares him.

"Hey, Michael," he says back, and Ashton smiles. He wraps an arm around the boy and gives him a soft hug, kissing his forehead as Calum closes his eyes and smiles. The action sends a moment of heat through my chest and I turn away, swallowing the jealousy back down my throat.

I try not to think about my soulmate much, simply because I'm not sure if I will ever meet him. He's out there, I know, but I can't imagine I'm worthy of any soulmate since I've started fighting. Ashton met Calum long before he started fighting so the tan boy never felt the effects of Ashton's fighting on his skin. But I haven't, and if anything I just fight more than I used to.

My soulmate must absolutely hate me by now.

I can't stop now, though, no matter if my injuries bleed through to my soulmate's skin as well. This is my income, this is my hobby, this is my life. I can't just up and quit, no matter how much guilt chews at my heart each night.

Before I built up a guard and figured I would never be able to meet him anyway, the guilt used to keep me awake at night. I'd picture a face, different each night, except each one would be covered in cuts and bruises, swollen eyes and cracked lips. Injuries that they in no way deserved to receive. Their eyes would water and I could see the pain in them, and they'd open their mouth to say something and I'd wake up.

A recurring nightmare. The only way I got rid of it was by convincing myself that the universe had given up on me and paired my soulmate up with someone else in hopes that the chemistry could rebuild itself with someone new.

So far, it's worked.

"Hey, earth to Michael." Ashton snaps his fingers in front of my eyes, and I snap back, turning to him.

"Yeah."

"They're match is over. You wanna go up?" Ashton offers, pointing to the ring. There is already one dude up there, putting a mouth guard between his lips. I sigh, taking a breath.

"Yeah, why not."

I came down here tonight for a reason, and that's to fight. I do it less for the money than for the pleasure of it. I give Ashton and Calum a quick smile and then head up to the ring, stepping over the ropes to stand in the center.

Now that I'm in the ring, I get a better look at my opponent. I recognize his face. David, or something. He's bigger than me, stronger looking, but I'm not worried. I turn back around and take a mouth guard, putting it over my teeth and abandoning the boxing gloves in the corner. Underground, nobody cares about using them. It's less boxing than it is fighting.

I turn back around once I have the mouth guard in to find David already prepared, waiting for me to be ready. I clear my throat, stepping into my appropriate spot as I stretch my shoulders a bit. The lights are bright, beating down on the both of us, and the rest of room is pitch dark. I can hear people placing their bets. Any newcomers would bet on David, because they bet based on size, but any regulars would bet on me. At least, I hope they will.

The familiar sound of the whistle sounds through the air, and David wastes no time stepping closer and swinging a curled fist in my direction.

I dodge it almost effortlessly, my slightly smaller figure able to move faster than his. I lift my fists and hold one of them over my face, scaling David's stance from the short distance between us.

Right as David looks like he's about to deliver a punch again, I leap forward and knock him across his cheekbone, kneeing his ribcage while he's distracted. He snarls, staggering back for a moment, but manages to land a solid hit to my jaw.

The force almost knocks me down itself, but as David kicks my side I am sent to the ground with a thud. The ground isn't padded, adding to the ambiance of the underground ring, and I can feel blood pool inside my mouth. I spit out the mouth guard, and a generous amount of blood comes out with it.

I roll onto my back and grab David's leg from where he was about to kick me again, and I bend it back, sending David right down beside me, landing harder than I did. His face contorts in pain and I climb on top of him while he's down. He tries to push my off him but I kick his legs down and punch my fist against his jaw, his cheekbones, his eyes, just until he's too beat up to fight back. I stand up, and he stays down, and the victorious whistle rings out into the air.

I turn back around as David's trainer slides into the ring to help out his client, while I climb back over the ropes and make my way through the crowd to get back to Ashton and Calum.

My fights never last very long.

I can see Ashton's proud smile from a while away, and when I reach him he gives me a happy hug and clap on the back.

"Poor guy," Ashton laughs. "Didn't stand a chance against you."

I roll my eyes and grab a towel from the pile in the corner, cleaning up some of the blood around my mouth. My right eye throbs a bit, and I know without having to check that there will be a black eye in the morning, but it's nothing I haven't dealt with before. I've been beat up much, much worse. This was an easy win.

"I'm glad you're not too beat up. Going to the hospital isn't fun," Ashton says, joining me by the wall. We lean against the rock and watch as the next pair of opponents face each other in the ring.

"I wouldn't think so."

"Doc's a good guy, though. I had to go to him last week, remember?" Ashton reminds me. I try to remember, and I can hardly remember Ashton telling me about the doctor who agreed to secretly treat the fighters after a tough match. "Good guy. Sure can keep a secret."

Calum takes Ashton's hand and plays with his long fingers, like he usually does whenever he has to stay and watch the fights. Ashton lets him, smiling at the feeling of Calum's soft fingers against his skin.

"He's got a cute new intern, though," Ashton tells me, still staring at the match. "A hematology major, I think. Name's Lance, or something."

The description launches a fire inside my chest, sending chills straight down my spine. I find myself intrigued, wanting to hear his name, needing to hear his name again.

"Lance?" I repeat. For some reason, it doesn't sound right.

Ashton furrows his eyebrows. "No, not Lance. Louis, was it? No..."

I ignore the irresistible anticipation that grows in my chest, passing it as just curiosity. I can't figure out why I'm so interested, considering I've never even seen the kid before. Maybe I just have a thing for medical people.

"Luke!" Ashton suddenly exclaims, and my heart stops. "That was it."

And yes, that's it. That's right, I know it is. Luke. It fits perfectly.

I don't have much time to dwell on the buzzing in my bones because suddenly Ashton is standing up, getting ready for his turn to fight. He gives me a winning smile, his hand still in Calum's.

"Wish me luck, mate," Ashton says, and kisses Calum's head before nudging him to set beside me. Calum scoots closer to me, and I protectively wrap my arm around him like Ashton always tells me to. Calum likes feeling safe, especially in the fighting club, and because Ashton isn't by his side.

Ashton walks off, pushing through the crowd confidently and stepping into the ring with ease. The people start placing bets, nearly all of them on Ashton. Ashton isn't only talented, but he's big in comparison to most all of the other opponents.

It feels nice to have my arm around someone who needs me to help them feel safe, even if it's just a friend and not a soulmate. It's moments like these where I really wish I'd have met them. The body needs its soulmate in order to feel happy, to feel complete. It would be nice to have a cute boy around that I can hold the hand of.

I frown at myself, angry that I've let myself think like this again. I pat Calum's shoulder and watch as Ashton prepares for the match, a confident smirk on his face as the whistle blows out. Calum tenses.

I know immediately that Ashton will win the moment the whistle is blown. Ashton lunges forward and already has his opponent on his floor in less than ten seconds.

I shut my eyes, listening to my heart throb in the center of my chest. It's easier to focus on reality when I hear the steady, constant heartbeat.

I can't let my gaurd down, not again. All it does is distract me, makes me unsteady on my feet. Mind whirling around the topic of fights and soulmates and pretty boys with bruises on their skin. I've tried fighting both battles at once, and at some point, it's you that's lost the fight instead of winning it.

I shake my head and listen as the crowd roars with Ashton's name, and I can feel Calum slump with relief beside me. I raise my fist and cheer along with the rest of the crowd, wiping my mind clear of bruises and soulmates and the name Luke.

---
A/N calum is such a cutie

i'm listening to the 1975 :')

YO if you have any music suggestions please tell I need some new tunes

thanks for reading! please comment and vote and tell me your thoughts and all that lol

i love you! so so much! hope you have a great day! i'll see you soon!