Lachlan
The coffee shop was quiet when we walked in, a soft jazz track playing in the background, a calming contrast to the energy of the gym that still buzzed in my veins. The smell of fresh espresso and baked goods filled the air, grounding me, but it didn't do much to calm the nervous energy twisting in my stomach. Ria wasn't just a casual acquaintance anymore, not after that record shop hangout, and especially not after the way she looked at me today.
She stepped up to the counter, her casual stance relaxed, almost like she belonged here. I stood back for a second, giving her space to order, but my mind was racing. Was this just two people hanging out, or was this something else? And if it was something else, did I even want that right now?
"Same as last time?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at me with a grin that made me second-guess everything.
I blinked, trying to pull myself out of my head. "Yeah, sure. You know what I get." I managed a half-smile, trying to sound casual, though I could feel the weight of the moment hanging over me.
She nodded and ordered for us both—two black coffees, strong and straight. She seemed so comfortable, so confident in the way she moved, and I felt out of place for a second, like I was still trying to catch up to who I was, let alone who I might want to be.
As we walked to a small table by the window, Ria sat down across from me and leaned back, a casual grace in her posture that made it hard to ignore. She had this way of being so... at ease. Like nothing ever made her feel awkward or unsure.
I wasn't like that, though. I could feel the uncertainty clawing at me, mostly because I wasn't sure what the next step was. We hadn't talked about us—there wasn't even an us yet. But there was something there. A subtle chemistry that I couldn't shake, no matter how much I tried to convince myself I was just looking for distractions.
"So," she started, her tone light but there was a quiet curiosity beneath it, "you ever think about what's next for you? After this whole training thing?"
The question caught me off guard. I hadn't really thought about it. My focus had been on getting back to fighting, on pushing past the doubts. The now.
I shifted in my seat, trying to buy myself some time. "I mean, right now, I'm just focused on getting back in shape. One fight at a time, you know? But… yeah, I guess at some point I have to think about the bigger picture."
She nodded, her eyes never leaving mine, like she was really listening. "What does that look like to you? You know, the bigger picture?"
That was a tough question. A real one. It made me think about more than just my next fight, but about everything. What did I want out of this? Out of life?
I leaned back in my chair, rubbing the back of my neck, trying to piece my thoughts together. "I don't know. Maybe just proving to everyone that I'm not just some stacks kid. That I'm not just some guy who got lucky with a win. I've gotta make it real, you know?"
Ria studied me for a moment, her lips slightly pursed like she was contemplating something. The air between us felt charged, but not in a bad way. She wasn't pushing, she wasn't rushing. But I could tell she was curious. About me. About who I was beyond the fight.
"That makes sense," she said after a pause, her voice softer than before. "You're not just fighting to win, you're fighting to prove something. Proving what, I'm not sure yet."
I nodded ignoring the last part. "Yeah. It's more than just the physical stuff. It's about getting past the mental block, you know?"
She smiled then, a knowing smile, like she understood better than I did. And maybe she did. There was something in the way she looked at me that made it seem like she wasn't just talking about fighting anymore.
The silence stretched between us, but it wasn't awkward. It was comfortable, even though my mind was racing. I kept stealing glances at her, noticing the way the soft light from the window caught in her hair, the way her eyes shifted when she thought about something. There was a lot more going on behind those eyes than I could figure out, and it made me feel a little off-balance.
"So," she said after a moment, breaking the silence again, "you think you're ready to fight again?
That was a loaded question. A question I hadn't fully answered for myself. I hadn't allowed myself to want it too much. I didn't want to build up the expectation just to be let down.
But as I looked at her, I realized something. I wasn't just trying to impress myself anymore. I wasn't just fighting for the sake of proving a point. I was fighting because I wanted to feel something again. Something real.
"Yeah," I said slowly, the words coming easier than I thought they would. "I think I am. I've got a ways to go, but I'm getting there."
Ria smiled, her eyes sparkling with something I couldn't quite read. "Good. I'm sure you'll be great. You always are when you're focused."
There was a softness in her voice that made my heart beat a little faster. It wasn't just encouragement. It felt... personal.
She took a sip of her coffee and leaned in a little, her gaze a little more intense now. "You know, Lachlan, it's kind of nice to see you outside of the gym. Like, you're not just some guy whos brooding and fights."
I swallowed, feeling the tension in the air shift. It was there. The question. The unspoken thing between us.
"I don't brood. I'm locked." I said, almost defensively, before I could stop myself. "Just—sometimes it's easier to keep things... separate."
Her smile softened, like she understood more than I did. "I get it. But I think maybe, if you let yourself relax a little, you'd see that there's more to life than just proving something to yourself."
I felt her words hit deeper than I expected. I didn't know what this was between us—whether it was the beginning of something or just a fleeting moment. But for the first time in a while, I realized that I wasn't in this alone. I had people in my corner, even if I wasn't sure how I felt about them yet.
I couldn't help but smile back, a little unsure of myself but more at ease than I'd been in a long time. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I need to let myself be a little... less guarded."
She raised her coffee cup in a mock toast. "To that," she said with a grin.
I clinked my cup against hers, the warm sensation of the coffee in my hands grounding me, but the feeling of something more lingering in the back of my mind as I felt a vibration from my pocket.
I hadn't expected the text from Mom.
"Come over tonight, please. Your dad wants to talk to you."
I stared at the message for a while, the flicker of my phone screen lighting up the dull room around me. Something about the way she worded it felt off, like a plea disguised in the casualness of her words. I didn't want to, didn't want to go back to that house where everything always felt like a silent warzone, but I knew I'd have to eventually. My parents had their ways of making sure I couldn't stay away for long.
After I paid for the coffee, I shoved the phone in my pocket, the earlier warmth from the cafe still buzzing faintly under my skin. I could feel that gnawing, uncomfortable pull in my stomach as I stared out the windows of the bus, the buildings stretching out like an endless reminder of things I couldn't quite shake. The ride felt longer than it usually did, as if the distance between my thoughts and the house was expanding with every mile.
When I walked up the driveway, I saw Lance's car parked in the driveway—my older brother, the one who always made everything seem easier. He didn't seem to care about the tension between our parents and me. He never had. It was easy for him to fit into the life Dad had planned for us, to live up to expectations that felt more like commands than choices. I was the screw-up. The disappointment. The one who couldn't get it right.
I walked inside, greeted with that same stale scent of old furniture and unfinished conversations. My dad was in the living room, reading the paper, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose like he hadn't noticed me walk in. Lance sat there too, half-watching the TV, but his attention was on me as soon as I crossed the threshold.
"Look who finally decided to show up," Lance said, his tone too sharp, a fake smile plastered across his face.
Dad didn't even bother to look up. "Sit down, Lachlan."
I froze for a second, not sure where this was going. I did as he asked, sitting on the couch across from both of them, the tension already thick enough to cut through with a knife. It was never just a casual visit when Dad called a "family talk." I could already feel the weight of the conversation pressing down on my chest.
"We need to talk about your future," Dad said, his voice cold, the kind of voice that made every word feel like an accusation. He finally glanced up from his paper, his eyes steely and unyielding.
"What about it?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Lance shifted in his seat, throwing me that look—the one that said he was already judging me, like he knew what was coming. "You're an adult, Lachlan. Don't you think it's time to stop playing around and actually get serious about your life? You can't keep running from your responsibilities forever."
I felt the bite of those words, and something inside me snapped. I couldn't keep up with their expectations, no matter how hard I tried. I hadn't told them what I wanted, that I wanted to follow my own path. Not like they would listen, it was like I was talking to a wall.
"Not everyone wants the same thing as you, Lance," I shot back, my hands tightening into fists on my lap. "Just because you've got it all figured out doesn't mean I have to follow suit."
Dad's gaze hardened. "It's not about what you want, Lachlan. It's about what you need—to grow up. To stop making excuses and do what's right. You'll never be anything if you keep running away."
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd heard it all before, but it didn't hurt any less. I felt my chest tighten, the familiar weight of their disapproval pressing down on me. They didn't get it. They don't want to get it.
Lance chuckled, low and mocking. "You're always so dramatic about it. You think the world owes you something just because you can't figure things out." His voice was cutting, like a knife twisting just under my skin.
"The world has shit on me every chance it gets, I work hard, It's still not enough, you wouldn't understand." I said, my voice barely above a whisper, the anger simmering just beneath the surface.
"Oh, we understand perfectly," Lance replied, leaning forward with that smug grin that always made my blood boil. "You're just lazy, Lachlan. You'll never make anything of yourself. Dad's right. You're wasting your potential."
I felt my fists clench, the heat of my frustration rising to the surface, but I couldn't let it out. If I did, it would just fuel the fire they were setting. So I stayed silent, every word I didn't say cutting deeper than anything they could throw at me.
Dad stood up, his chair scraping against the floor with a sharp screech. "We're done talking about this for now. You know what you need to do." He turned his back to me, his final words like a sentence I couldn't escape from. "Don't waste our time, Lachlan. Get your shit together."
I didn't respond. What was there to say? Instead, I stood up slowly, my heart pounding in my chest, the weight of their words settling into the pit of my stomach. As I walked toward the door, Lance called out to me one last time.
"You'll never amount to anything. You're not cut out to stand tall. Get used to it."