Fighters

"Ewan!" I heard behind me, but I didn't turn around. Then a hand was tight on my arm. I let him pull me to a stop.

"Wait." His voice was soft. Breaking. Fair. It was his fucking turn, now wasn't it? I had had already broken for him, so many times. "Just wait..."

He pulled me back, settling me against the wall. I refused to look at him, refused to feel how similar this was to the things we had been that night when he'd let himself - when he'd been high. When he'd made a mistake. I stared over his shoulder.

His fingers were light on my shoulder, moving up to my neck. I couldn't hold back the shudder that passed over my body at his touch. "Your neck," he said, sounding amazed and heartbroken all rolled up into one. "Did someone hurt you?"

I didn't need his pity. I didn't need his comfort. I needed to stay like this so I wouldn't break anymore, needed to stay down so I could no longer fall. He got my hopes up. He fucked me up so fucking bad. "I need to score," I told him, brushing away his hand and all the things it promised. I ducked under his arm and started back down the hall. "Cheers."

Fucking cheers.

***

I stood in the hallway watching him disappear and just hating myself. Fuck but he'd looked terrible. Had that been a handprint on his neck? And the way he'd walked, like he was limping...

A hand landed on my shoulder and I jumped. "Lad," Charlie said, and I leaned my head against the walls. "That's your good thing?"

"Fuck," was all could muster. That had just completely gutted me. Completely and utterly dropped my stomach out from where it had been sitting, let me empty and hollow and just.

Fuck. What the fuck had he been doing?

"Let's get inside."

Bren was waiting for us when we got there, a determined look on his face.

"He was sleeping in his car, Coop. His car. And I couldn't just, with the way that place is, and -"

"I'm not mad at you," I cut him off, meaning it. Bren had always been the one who hadn't wanted him in the house, not me. "Just wasn't expecting it was all."

He bit his cheek. "I thought he'd be gone by the time you got back."

"Yeah." I sat down at the counter and put my head on the cool granite. "He looks so fucking." I didn't have the words.

Bren sat down opposite me. "Did you notice his neck?"

I nodded. How could I not?

"Do you think he's alright?"

"No," Charlie said. "He's not alright. He's an addict. He's got it bad. He's hollowed out and filling that space with whatever the fuck he can right now, and probably doesn't give a shit how he gets it. You remember, Ewan. Not a pretty place to be."

I covered my head. I remembered. It physically hurt to think of him like that, the things he might be doing to himself. And I knew, god I knew that he was, the way he carried himself, the way he spoke like he was empty, the way he'd just stared over me like I wasn't even there...

I knew all of that. I knew the way he carried it on his body, all the things that made it different from the way I had carried it, angry and hot and disastrous. I knew how close, then, how fucking close he was to emptying himself completely, becoming nothing but a shell and then scraping at even those walls until they became so thin they collapsed, until he quietly fell for the last time in a pile of dust and bones as a shadow of the fiery thing he once was...

An idea of him, I reminded myself angrily. I held an idea of him inside of myself and the real person was out there, hurting. "We need to help him."

"No," Charlie said. Bren was conspicuously quiet. "You've got the same shit inside of you. You can't go waking it up on some rescue mission."

"It's dead," I lied. "I killed it, and I can show him how to do the same."

"The monster never fucking dies, Ewan. It sits in your gut and it waits 'til you're weak so that it has a chance to take over again." Charlie leaned in close. "Don't go fucking weak on me, lad."

He walked out the door before I could come up with a response.

Bren put his head in his hand. "What are we going to do?"

My breath filled my lungs. I let it leave again. I didn't fucking know. I didn't fucking know.

***

CH 12

***

My feet took me back to Chad's bar, like they always would. I only had enough gas to either move the car or keep it warm, so I chose keep it warm and gave up on the idea of being anywhere else. Besides, where else would want me?

When I walked in the door Chad looked like he'd been expecting me, his grin already in place and a condom in his hand. I shrugged and headed back towards the breakroom, grabbing the drink he'd mixed up for me on the way.

Ten minutes later things were swirly in a very familiar way. "Chad," I managed, tucking my head between my arms to look back at the man pounding away at my ass. "Did you fucking drug me?"

He took a break to lean down and kiss my back. I shuddered at the brightness of the sensation; I hadn't had any X in days, preferring speed and coke. Things with edges to help me lose track of mine. Fuck, I thought as another wave of tingles raced through my body. I'd forgotten how much X made everything.

"Be grateful," Chad told me, his tongue running up my spine. "I didn't have to. Consider it a gift."

Yay, I thought, as he went back to slamming into me indiscriminately. Chad was a boring fuck, concerned entirely with getting himself off. I was a fleshlight that moaned. And drank his booze. "Thanks, Chad," I told him in between thrusts. And I was thankful; this was better high for sure.

He slammed into me one last time and bent forward to bite my ear. He always finished that way; no kiss, thank god, no thank you. Bite on the ear. It blossomed with the X, slipped into my neck and down my back and I actually had to fight not to react. I hated reacting to fucking Chad. "More than your boyfriend gave me."

"What?" I sat up, grabbing some tissues to clean up. I wasn't concerned with getting off; that could come later in the night, and Chad had barely even made me hard. Although with all this X rocketing through my system all of a sudden...

"Got him high the same way. That boxy lad, too good for himself? Sent him out to fetch you." He made a tsking noise. "Didn't even get a thanks." His pants fastened and the condom tossed out, Chad was back out to get the floor ready for the night.

I sat there with my high, my tissues full of lube, and my information. Chad had drugged me. That sounded like Chad, and sounded fine to me. Free drugs, right? Why the fuck should I care what happened to my body?

But Chad hadn't just drugged me. My boyfriend, he had said. Sent him out to go and fetch you.

Chad had drugged Cooper.

Cooper, I want you sober Cooper. I care about you Cooper. Green eyes and soft hands and you could call him an ex, but he helped him get sober Cooper.

I got up, got dressed, and headed out the back door.

It was all crashing down on me at once, all the feelings that I was having. All at once after not at all. I have to admit it was overwhelming at first, the crush of it, the press of anger and rage and passion and texture after living in a world that had been flat, smooth. It was like seeing color after existing in some beige fucking dorm room for weeks - it was electrifying. It was nearly horrifying. I wanted to go up to the first fucking person I saw and just hit them til I didn't feel anymore.

I stopped and took a breath. When was the last time I'd been in a fight? Like, a proper fight, not beat-me-because-I-deserve-it but me and some bloke trading blows until one of us just couldn't anymore? Damn, it had been so long. What had happened to me? Why was I like this?

Chad had drugged Cooper.

Fuck. Fucking, fucking Chad. I wanted to walk into that goddamn bar and punch him in his smug fucking face, just hit him until he couldn't smile anymore, smash those hands of his until he never mixed another drink again.

Fuck.

I crouched down on the pavement. But then I wouldn't get another drink.

I sat there for a moment running that option over and over in my mind. Yeah, I finally thought. I think I can live with that.

But as I stood up, fully intending to head into the bar and beat the living shit out of Chad, my phone started ringing. Divine intervention? A fucking annoying distraction? I paused, then pulled it out.

"Yeah?" I asked the flip phone. Only three people had this number. Chad, my sister who would never be calling me, not anymore, and -

"Hey, bitch." Fucking Jimmy. "Got some new juice. And someone who's dying to meet you." Another one of "friends" of his for me to fuck. If money exchanged hands after I was done, what did I care? Free drugs and fucks. I was happy.

Well. I wasn't unhappy. Or like. Whatever. It worked out.

Free drugs, I suddenly thought.

"Bitch," he said. "Hey, John. You fucking there?"

"Jimmy," I said slowly. Plans were falling in place in my X'd up brain. "You got that shit that those clubber's OD'd on last week?"

The phone was silent. "Man, you know they took like three times the -"

"I'm no fucking first timer, babe. I know the dose." I made my voice sickly sweet for him, the kind of voice he loved to fuck out of me. "I'm just looking for a little fun."

There was another moment of silence. "Get your fucking ass over here, bitch. You're mine."

The phone clicked dead. No, I thought. Not yours.

But I think I'm gonna need your drugs.

***

Bren called me an hour later. "He isn't here."

"What do you mean, he isn't there?"

"I mean he isn't here." I could hear the pulse of the nightclub in the background; it made me want to be sick. "Car's here, though."

"Anything in the boot?" I asked desperately.

There was a moment where all I could hear was the music. "Coop..."

"I know, I know." I sighed. "Did you ask the bartender?"

"No, and you know I'm not talking to him."

I sighed. It was probably a good idea to keep Bren far away from that man if we wanted to keep him out the hospital. The bartender. Bren would be fine. "Keep looking for me, okay?"

"Yeah. Orin flies in tonight; he said he'd come straight from the airport."

"Tell him to get some sleep. Cross-atlantic flights are no joke."

"Fuck," I heard my small friend grumble. I wondered if he hadn't wanted his bear there anyway. But no; he was probably just worried about him. "You get some sleep too. You fight tomorrow, remember."

"Don't remind me." I hung up the phone and went back to my pushups. I was still a half pound overweight and needed to lose it by weigh ins. I tried to concentrate on my exercise and not worry too much about the man wandering around god knows where in the night.

***

I slept over at Jimmy's which was a first. I think I wore him out, the poor thing. I was wore out; you can only take so many hard things up one ass for so many nights in a row, you know? And I wasn't eating, and the week previous I'd been like coked out of my fucking mind which meant almost no sleep and now I had no coke so I was coming down off of that and I mean just.

I needed the break, however slight it was. I slept on the floor; Jimmy didn't offer any other option.

The next morning I grabbed two spliffs for the fun, a bag of percs for the pain, the super X Jim'd promised me and slipped out before he'd woken up. I fucking deserved all of it, after all he'd put me through; plus, if all went according to plan, he'd have bigger things on his mind than the theft of his precious goddamn pain pills.

When I got to Chad's bar, everything was quiet. It was still midday; the first patrons wouldn't arrive for hours.

"You're early as fuck," Chad lazed. He was wiping down tables, actually looking productive for once. I had it in mind to change that.

"Came to repay you." I made my voice sound coy, tried to hide the edges growing in me. God, I was becoming nothing but edges. Shattered and broken and fucked up, yeah, but I was learning quickly that you could be directionally fucked up, and then all your shattered and broken bits were pointed right at one person and then that person.

Well, that person didn't really stand a chance, now did they?

Chad could tell something was up, I think. But he was a greedy piece of shit and when he saw the little baggy I was holding up, when I told him I had something really good to give him? Insinuated that the sex would be fucking bonkers after he'd popped two of these?

Who'd say no to that?

Not Chad.

Dosage on these pills is a half for first timers, one for old hats. Two if you really want to roll. The kids that shut down in the clubs in London, it was said they took five. I took a chance and gave him the full two I'd promised him, expecting that if he'd been dosing me he also rolled on his own, then crushed a third into his drink for fun.

I took two percocets. I mean, any fucking idiot can tell the difference between a perc and a tab of acid.

He smirked when he saw me swallow them. "Glad to see you're rolling with me."

Not fucking Chad.

Within like twenty minutes Chad was loving, loopy, and lit as fuck. I watched him slide his hand over the bar with wonder and took a breath.

It was time.

***

It was time.

I sat alone in the locker room. You're always alone before a fight; you're always alone, in the end. That's what MMA teaches you, if it teaches you nothing else. You're alone, and no one is coming to help you. That guy punching you is punching you. And you're going to have to punch the shit out of him if you want him to stop.

You. No one else. Just you.

Your trainer is there; your friends are there; your family might even be there, if you're lucky enough to have one of those. Hell, there might be thousands of people watching you. Hundreds of thousands if it's a pay per view event. And they say they're there with you, they say "we've got your back, we'll be with you every step of the way." But when you get into that octagon...

"Ewan Cooper." I looked up. "You're up."

It's your name they call, in the end. It's you who steps up to that other guy, bumps fists. It's you who gets locked in the fucking cage.

And it's gonna be you who gets yourself out.

***

CH 13

***

I made it out, yeah. But I'd only made it a block away when the explosion happened.

Everything else had gone according to plan; Chad was so high he'd done anything I'd asked, from collecting all the flammable material to telling me, in detail, about the insurance policy he had out on the place.

Fuck you, dad. Two years of law school did not go to waste. I listened carefully and nodded like it was the most interesting thing in the world, even though my body was in the most pain and also somehow super hazy and I didn't think he'd notice if I was responding anyway. He kept going off on tangents about lights, and how different colored lights meant different stars were aligning.

If this is what I sounded like when I was high, I'd stick a dick in my mouth too.

But I needed to know about the insurance policy. After I got all the details that were important I sent him off to write Jimmy's name, address, and phone number on a paper near the phone, then again in a note on his mobile that backed up to his email. I didn't know what was going to survive this, but I wanted the police to know where to go looking.

Then I sat down and we began crafting the letters.

"Isn't this fun," he told me at one point, grinning huge.

Fuck you, Chad, I thought, and told him the next line. When the papers were done, into the fireproof box they went. I hoped enough of them would survive to cast the doubt on him for insurance fraud - I knew I certainly planned to make it look as much like a terrible arson job as possible.

I knew a thing or two about setting buildings on fire to get insurance. Call it a wrongful youth. Call it poor family connections. I call it an excellent practical education, and I planned on making the best of it. I'd been taught how to do it right, so that the arson investigators wouldn't find a thing out of place.

I knew, then, how to do it very, very wrong.

I started by just kind of disorganizing everything, moving shit around. Chad had a lot of fun with this, as he got to touch all the shit he owned. Musta felt amazing on the super X - I almost envied him. Then we made a big pile of flammable objects, including booze, right in front of the big ole wooden bar.

And then I had him open up the gas line and turn on the burner, and sent him on his merry way on a literal snipe hunt. I told him they sounded like fire truck sirens, and that only very good boys could hear them. He was off and running before you could say "Theodore Xavier Roosevelt.".

You already know how far I got before the building went boom.

I turned now and watched the smoke still pouring over the horizon, Chad long gone on whatever high quest he'd set for himself, or maybe back at the fire trucks that were wailing their way towards the conflagration. Chad was gone. Jimmy would be gone when they found the emails, if he hadn't figured shit out from my theft and hightailed it already. And the bar was gone.

The bar, my practical home for the past nearly two years of my life. Where I'd had good times. Where I'd had bad. The only place left where I could get drinks.

It was gone.

Whatever, I thought. I always hated that fucking place anyway. I didn't mean it, though, and the thought felt wrong as it passed through my mind into my body. I shuddered once and turned my back on the tower of grey, and I did the only think I could think to do, alone and victorious and uncelebrated. I began to walk.

***

"Ow." I tried to pull away from Bren, but Orin held me tight.

"If you weren't so damn clumsy, you wouldn't need stitched up," he muttered.

"I won the fight, didn't I?" I winced as Bren pushed the needle through my skin again.

Orin shifted to my right. "Shouldn't the ring doctors be doing this?"

"I was a ring doctor for four years," Bren stated primly. He tied up the last knot and clipped the extra stitching. "Plus, Coop punched a doc out once and they won't touch him anymore."

"That," I said sternly, "was you."

"Was it?" Bren was the picture of innocence as he peeled off the blue safety gloves. Beside me I could hear Orin chuckling.

"Ewan Cooper." The steward was back. "Your fans want you."

I sighed. I hated this part. "Fuck me," I muttered.

Orin's big hand clapped onto my back. "Congrats on the win."

I nodded. I'd really needed something to go right for once.

When I got back from the picture ops and signings and "oh my god Ewan you're my hero"s, I found the locker room much more subdued. "What's wrong?" I immediately asked, seeing the looks on Bren and Orin's faces, the way the glanced at each other as I walked into the room.

"It's the bar," Orin started, but it was Bren who told me the truth.

"It fucking exploded."

I was out the door before I remembered I wasn't wearing my shoes or even a fucking shirt.

***

I don't know how long I wandered for. Hours. Weeks. Months. It was probably just days, with the way my body felt exhausted and how sometimes I would open my eyes from blinking and found that I was on the ground, curled into some doorway or alley, people stepping over my body or around my form like I was just another piece of litter.

The drive that had pushed me to blow up the bar, the anger, the resolve. All of that had burned out with the building. I was back to nothing, empty. Shaking with cold and the need for something to fill me up, only I didn't have that anymore. I didn't have anything. No food. My only water from public fountains. No drugs. No booze.

I think it was the third day that I started shaking.

It might have been the second. Hell, it might have been the first, I was so fucked up. It wasn't even drugs this time, nothing so fun. I was just sick, my beating on my body finally catching up to me. I shivered and sweated in the cold, then felt like I was freezing as the fever wracked my body. I'd long ago finished my percs and smoked all the weed, and so I floated on a haze of fever dreams and X and ate whatever food I could find on the tops of trash bins.