: 008 between rounds - boxer!hollis x cutwoman!reader
cw: social media, texts, press, mexico city, week three, media,
content info: boxing au, touch as communication, injury care, tending wounds, professional boundaries, emotional messy boxer, reckless boxer, slow burn
disclaimer: all people in fic r aged up.
summary: you built your reputation the hard way. quietly, carefully. one fight at a time. by the time people stop questioning you, fighters are requesting you. across the country, hollis is building a reputation of his own. brilliant. reckless. impossible to control. so when his team calls and asks you to join his corner, you already know what everyone else does. he doesn't listen. but when the bell rings and blood starts running down his face, you're the only one he looks at between rounds.
Mexico City starts feeling normal a little too quickly. given the fact that Marcus came a couple hours after the lucha libre fight, he was quick to put the boys back in their place. mornings blur into training schedules. you’re doing coffee runs, having late breakfasts, and listening to all of the boys’ music taste.
the city outside stays loud and alive, but inside the group— things settle, too comfortably.
Monday morning starts slower than usual. sunlight spills through the hotel curtains in warm gold streaks. your phone buzzes somewhere beside you. you groan softly into your pillow before reaching for it blindly.
you stare at the message for a second. it’s 7:14 a.m. you immediately smile against your will.
the typing bubble appears almost instantly.
your stomach flips embarrassingly fast at how normal this feels now, like this has become expected, like him texting you first thing in the morning somehow isn’t insane anymore.
twenty minutes later, you step out into the hallway wearing oversized sweats and a hoodie. your hair still slightly messy.
immediately—he looks up from where he’s leaning against the wall near the elevator, like he’s been waiting. he’s wearing a black hoodie and gray sweats. his headphones hanging loosely around his neck and sleep still lingering slightly in his expression. his eyes move over you once before meeting yours again, “…you took twenty.”
you scoff softly, “you counted?”
“yeah. every minute with you counts with this busy schedule i’m having.” he says it too easily. like he doesn’t realize how that sounds, or maybe he does?
you fall into step beside him toward the elevator. comfortable silence settles almost immediately, which still surprises you sometimes because Hollis isn’t quiet in an awkward way. he’s quiet like someone who doesn’t need noise to fill space.
the elevator doors close. he glances sideways at you, “you gain your voice back yet?”
you laugh weakly, your voice still a little rough from the lucha libre fight. “almost.”
his mouth tilts slightly, “worth it?”
that makes him smile properly for a second and annoyingly—you’ve started noticing how rare those real smiles actually are.
the lobby’s quieter this early. a few people scattered around couches, hotel staff moving through the front entrance.
you and Hollis walk side by side toward the coffee shop across the street like this is something you’ve done a hundred times already. the air hits warm against your skin. cars are moving. music playing faintly from somewhere nearby. without thinking—Hollis reaches for your arm lightly while crossing the street, guiding you closer when traffic moves too fast. his hand drops away after, but not immediately. you notice that too.
inside the coffee shop, the worker behind the counter recognizes him instantly. her eyes widen slightly then flick toward you. immediately—that look appears. the one you’ve started recognizing lately. curiosity. interest. speculation. Hollis notices too but unlike before—he doesn’t pull away from you, doesn’t create distance, doesn’t correct anything. if anything, he stays beside you more deliberately now, close enough that your shoulder brushes his while you order. it scares you a little because somewhere between Erewhon and lucha libre masks and late-night hotel hallways—this stopped feeling temporary.
entering the gym feels heavier today. it’s not as loud as the days before louder. it’s not busier. it’s just heavier because everybody knows the fight’s getting close now. sparring rounds blur together under overhead lights. coaches are shouting constantly, gloves cracking against skin, camera operators weaving around constantly for promo clips.
you stand near the back wall wrapping extra gauze around your fingers absentmindedly while watching the ring. you go back to friday night. you two nearly kissed. you wonder what would’ve happened if he never left. you shake the thought of your head immediately after realizing. you are working for Hollis and his team. you shouldn’t be attracted to him, but god. he is so mesmerizing to look at.
cutting back to reality, you notice Hollis has been in there for almost forty minutes and something’s off. you noticed it during warmups but your mind trailed off. he’s faster than usual and more aggressive. but he’s sloppy in a way he normally isn’t, he keeps overcommitting.
Roman notices too, you can tell by the way his arms stay crossed tighter against his chest.
“again,” one of the coaches says sharply.
Hollis wipes sweat from his mouth with the back of his glove, annoyed already.
the sparring partner moves first this time. a quick combination. Hollis slips two punches cleanly—then gets clipped hard on the third.
the sound echoes louder than it should.
your stomach tightens instantly.
Hollis steps back, jaw clenched.
“hands up,” the coach snaps immediately.
Hollis says nothing, just circles again. the next exchange gets worse. too reckless. too emotional. he lands hard shots—but keeps getting caught because he’s fighting angry now instead of smart.
Ryan mutters quietly beside you, “he’s overthinking.”
Roman nods once, “he watched the clips again this morning.”
you glance over slightly, “what clips?”
Roman exhales through his nose, “his opponent’s team posted training footage.”
Nate scoffs from nearby, “talking crazy online too.”
you look back toward the ring and suddenly it makes sense. the tension. the shorter temper. the exhaustion sitting under Hollis’s skin lately.
another round starts. the cameras move closer now, they love this part. fighters frustrated, fighters bleeding, and fighters unraveling.
Hollis notices them too which only makes him worse. his coach says something you can’t hear. Hollis immediately shakes his head, frustrated. another bad exchange, sparring partner lands a sharp hit against his cheekbone. hard enough the whole gym reacts slightly.
“time,” Roman says immediately. but Hollis ignores it. he keeps moving forward anyway. throwing harder now, messier.
the coach physically steps in this time, “ENOUGH!” silence drops across the gym for a second.
Hollis rips his mouthguard out immediately, “he’s dropping his fucking hands every time.”
“because you’re chasing shots,” the coach fires back.
“you’re fighting emotional.”
that one hits something. you see it instantly in Hollis’s face. the irritation shifting into something sharper, “i’m fine.”
the cameras are still filming, still watching, and Hollis suddenly looks like he wants to punch every single one of them. he hops down from the ring abruptly. pulling his gloves off aggressively.
one of the media people starts approaching, probably for footage, questions, and content.
Hollis doesn’t even let him speak, “not now.” he says coldly and flat.
the guy backs off immediately. the gym stays quiet afterward, everybody pretending not to notice the tension.
you watch Hollis pace once near the lockers, hands on his hips, breathing hard. then he grabs a water bottle, throws half of it back. the other half spills down his neck and shirt. he still looks angry. but underneath it—he looks exhausted. you don’t see the headlines, or the ego, or the controversy everybody talks about. you just see a twenty-something year old carrying way too much pressure on his back.
Roman gets pulled away by one of the coaches. Ryan and Nate drift toward the opposite side of the gym.
before you can overthink it—your feet move first. Hollis hears you approaching before you say anything. “i’m fine,” he mutters automatically.
you stop beside him anyway, “…i didn’t ask.”
he leans forward against the counter slightly, head lowered, breathing finally slowing. up close—you can see the redness forming against his cheek already, the exhaustion under his eyes.
“you’re letting them get to you,” you say quietly.
he laughs once, humorless. “everybody keeps saying that.”
another silence. he twists the water bottle cap back on harder than necessary. “…if i lose this fight,” he says finally, quieter now, “people are gonna say everything they already think about me is true.”
that catches you off guard slightly, because there it is. it’s not arrogance, not recklessness. it’s fear. buried deep. but there.
you look at him carefully, “you really care what people think?”
he finally glances sideways at you, “…not usually.” a beat. “lately i do.”
your chest tightens a little at the honesty in that answer. the gym noise fades quieter around both of you. Hollis looks back down at the counter again, jaw tense.
without thinking, again, you reach up gently toward his cheekbone, “hold still.”
his entire body stills immediately. you press an ice pack lightly against the forming bruise, careful and gentle.
his eyes stay on you the entire time.
for the first time all day he finally stops looking angry.
the media room is colder than the gym. it’s so bright and crowded. camera lights beam harshly across folding chairs and sponsor banners while people move around carrying equipment and clipboards. you stand near the back wall with Roman and Ryan while production assistants rush around setting up the next interview slot.
Hollis sits a few feet away getting mic’d up. he looks tired. both physically and mentally. you can tell by the way he keeps flexing his jaw like he’s trying to stay patient. his cheekbone still has faint redness from sparring. his hoodie sleeves pushed up slightly. rings glinting beneath the lights.
Nate leans toward you quietly, “he hates this stuff.”
“nah,” Ryan says. “today’s actually not that bad yet.” that yet hangs in the air ominously.
a producer signals toward Hollis, “rolling in five.”
Hollis nods once and leans back in the chair, expression flattening automatically.
the interviewer smiles once the cameras go live, “alright everybody, we’re here in Mexico City with 2Hollis ahead of Thursday night’s fight.”
Hollis lifts one hand slightly in acknowledgment.
“big fight week,” the interviewer continues. “how’s Mexico City been treating you?”
“fans seem excited to have you here.”
“yeah. crowds been cool.” his tone’s calmer than usual. still detached, still Hollis. but less volatile.
the interviewer notices immediately, “you seem more relaxed this camp.”
Ryan snorts quietly from beside you.
Hollis hears it and glares briefly toward him. “i’m always relaxed.”
Nate mutters under his breath—“lie.”
Roman elbows him instantly. the interviewer smiles carefully, used to fighters acting difficult.
“your opponent said this morning he thinks you’re mentally weak under pressure.”
the room shifts slightly at that.
you see Hollis’s posture change immediately. it’s small and subtle but noticeable. his eyes sharpen, jaw tightening once. “he talks a lot.”
“not really.” another lie, you can tell now. because his fingers start tapping once against the armrest again. same rhythm as earlier after sparring.
the interviewer glances down at his notes, “this camp’s looked a little different for you though.”
Hollis stays quiet, watching him carefully now.
“new team dynamics. new staff additions.”
your stomach tightens slightly because you already know where this is going, “you’re working with Y/n this fight,” the interviewer says.
the cameras don’t turn toward you, thank god. but suddenly you feel every person in the room glance your direction anyway. “people in combat sports already knew her from Massachusetts circuits,” the interviewer continues. “especially after working with Marcus Silva’s camp.”
you look down at your phone automatically avoiding eye contact.
“how’s that adjustment been?”
silence. it’s not awkward, just longer than expected because Hollis actually thinks before answering, “…she’s good.” he says simply, honest.
the interviewer nods, “what makes her good?”
Hollis leans back slightly in his chair. thinking again, “…she doesn’t panic.”
your stomach flips unexpectedly hearing that.
“even when everybody else does.”
Ryan glances sideways toward Roman immediately because that answer sounds too personal.
the interviewer smiles slightly, “sounds important during fight week.”
“it is.” he says quietly.
the interviewer studies him a second, “you seem calmer this camp too.”
Hollis huffs softly through his nose, almost smiling. “everybody keeps saying that.”
“because it’s true,” the interviewer replies easily.
a beat. “do you think having the right people around affects how you fight?” there it is, the question you’ve been expecting. you finally glance up again and immediately regret it because Hollis is already looking at you, not dramatically, not obviously. instinctively. almost like he forgot the cameras were there for half a second.
unfortunately— the crew definitely catches it. you can almost see Ryan realizing it in real time beside you.
Hollis looks back toward the interviewer afterward but slower than he should. “…yeah,” he says finally. “probably.”
the interviewer smiles slightly like he just learned something useful, “interesting.”
the rest of the interview shifts back toward the fight after that. training. strategy. Mexico City.
Hollis slips back into his usual public persona easier now. cocky answers. short responses. and a little arrogance. but something changed already, you can feel it. especially when the interview ends and the cameras cut.
one of the younger production assistants immediately whispers to another girl nearby—“wait are they together?”
your stomach drops slightly. Ryan hears it too, his eyes widen instantly. Nate nearly chokes trying not to laugh. Roman pinches the bridge of his nose.
across the room, Hollis pulls his mic off slowly then looks directly at you again. like none of the attention around him matters half as much as whether you heard what he said.
its chaos by noon. stylists, camera crews, and racks of clothes rolling across marble floors. people are yelling over each other in both english and spanish. apparently one of the fight sponsors decided last minute they wanted promotional content before Thursday.
which means: photoshoots, interviews, social clips, and more cameras.
Nate groans dramatically the second he hears, “i thought we were fighters.”
“you complain like a model though,” Ryan says.
“because this is stressful.”
Roman doesn’t even look up from his phone, “you’ll survive.”
you’re standing near the elevators checking schedules again when Hollis walks out of the hallway already changed. unfortunately— he looks good. black cargos, a white tank, a silver chain, a dark jacket hanging open and hair messy on purpose somehow.
you hate the way your eyes immediately flick toward him because he notices instantly.
his mouth tilts slightly, “what?”
you shake your head quickly, “nothing.”
Nate looks between both of you immediately, “oh brother.”
Roman physically closes his eyes for a second, “can we get through one day,” Roman mutters, “without whatever this is.”
“there is no this,” you say too fast. Hollis says nothing, which honestly makes it worse.
the photoshoot setup is on the rooftop terrace of another hotel nearby overlooking the city. there’s bright sunlight, industrial fans, and music blasting softly through speakers.
the second the boys walk onto set, people start moving faster. stylists are adjusting jackets, fixing their chains, touching up makeup while photographers are testing the lighting.
Nate immediately starts posing dramatically before they even tell him to, “this is my calling actually.”
“you’re enjoying this way too much,” Ryan says.
“because i’m good at it.”
“you literally blinked in every test photo.”
Roman’s sitting calmly while a stylist fixes the sleeves of his shirt, completely unbothered.
Ryan looks naturally photogenic without trying, which Nate complains about immediately. Hollis looks like he hates every second of it until the cameras start rolling. then something switches, his expression sharpens instantly. it’s more cooler and controlled. he looks in the exact way promotions want him to look.
you watch from behind one of the monitors while the photographer directs them, “closer together.”
Nate throws an arm around Ryan dramatically. Ryan does it back in return. Roman barely reacts.
the photographer laughs, “good. now serious.”
Hollis leans against the railing overlooking Mexico City, his hands in his pockets, the sunlight catching against his rings and chain.
the photographer visibly perks up, “yes. hold that.”
camera shutters go insane. you hate how good he is at this. not because he tries, but because he doesn’t.
one of the assistants beside you notices your expression, “he photographs really well, huh?”
you glance away immediately, “i guess.”
the girl smiles knowingly.
the shoot keeps going. the boys are in different outfits, different sponsor content. having boxing promo shots, group pictures, and solo shots. at one point they have the boys sit casually on a couch setup for social media promo. Nate immediately starts messing with Ryan’s sunglasses, Ryan almost falls sideways laughing. Roman shakes his head. Hollis looks over toward you off-camera right as the photographer takes the picture. you don’t even realize it happened until the photographer lowers the camera smiling.
“that one’s good.” too good probably because Nate notices immediately, “bro, stop looking at her.”
the entire crew goes quiet for half a second. your stomach drops instantly. Ryan starts coughing trying not to laugh. Roman mutters: “you’re an idiot.” Hollis doesn’t even look embarrassed, he just looks at Nate flatly, “shut up.” which somehow confirms it more. you turn away before anybody can see your face properly, pretending to fix something in your bag. but the damage is already done. especially because across the rooftop—two girls from the media team are already whispering while looking between you and Hollis.
for the first time since arriving in Mexico City, you realize this might actually become a problem.
the hotel rooftop is almost empty tonight. just distant music from somewhere below. you feel the warm wind hit your skin. you watch the city lights stretch endlessly across the city. you don’t even know how long you’ve been standing out here before the rooftop door opens behind you.“couldn’t sleep either?”
your chest tightens slightly even though you recognize the voice, his voice. Hollis steps outside beside you, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hands tucked into his pockets, and hair messy from showering. he smells faintly like soap and smoke.
you look back out at the city instead of at him, “you ever sleep?”
“sometimes.” a beat. “…you?”
you shrug lightly, “trying.” silence settles after that, its comforting compared to everything else that’s happened today. as much as its comforting, it’s dangerous because lately silence with him feels too intimate. the city noise hums below both of you softly. for a while—neither of you says anything at all. then: “you got quiet after the other night.”
your stomach flips instantly, of course he brings it up like that, not directly, not clearly. just enough to make you remember.
you stare out at the skyline harder, “…did i?”
“yeah.” his voice stays calm, its quiet. “thought maybe i said something wrong.”
you finally glance toward him then. he’s already watching you, of course he is. the tension hits immediately. thick and slow.
you look away first, like usual, “…you didn’t.”
“then what was it?” the question comes softer this time, less teasing—more real.
you exhale slowly through your nose, “…i don’t know.” that’s partially true because you do know. you just don’t want to say it out loud. the hallway in the hotel, his hand on your ring, the way he looked at you, the way neither of you moved away. you remember all of it too clearly.
Hollis leans lightly against the railing beside you now, close enough your shoulders almost touch.“…felt like you got scared.”
you let out the faintest laugh. you’re not amused. you’re just nervous, “maybe i was.”
that gets his attention immediately. you feel it before you even look over. “…of me?” the way he asks it almost sounds careful, which somehow makes it worse.
you shake your head slightly, “no.” you say honestly, maybe even too honest. another silence.
the city wind moves softly through your hair. Hollis looks down briefly at his hands before speaking again, “…good.”
your heartbeat stumbles a little at how quietly he says it. you finally look at him fully now and that was a mistake. because he looks exhausted tonight, not just physically but also emotionally. all the pressure from today still sitting behind his eyes. all the interviews, the constant flash from the cameras, training so hard, and the expectations that are expected of him. underneath all of that—he still came here. to you.
“…today was bad?” you ask softly.
he huffs once through his nose, “not bad.” a pause. “just loud.”
your expression softens slightly because somehow that answer tells you everything. too many people needing things from him. too many cameras. too much pressure.
Hollis glances toward the city again, “everybody keeps watching me this week.”
you smile faintly, “you are the one fighting.”
“not like that.” his eyes shift back toward you slowly. suddenly, you understand exactly what he means. people watching: the interviews. the pictures. the way he looks at you.
your stomach tightens again, “they’ll get over it.”
“will you?” the question slips out quietly, naturally, like he didn’t mean to say it aloud. both of you go still afterward because there it is. it’s not a confession, but close enough to feel like one. you look at him carefully now, heart beating way too hard. Hollis doesn’t look away this time. he doesn’t hide it.
the city lights reflect faintly in his eyes while he watches you like he’s trying to figure something out, or maybe trying not to. your breath catches slightly when he steps closer. just one step, enough that your shoulder brushes his now. warm and solid. neither of you moves away. for one terrible second—you genuinely think he’s going to kiss you this time. his eyes flick briefly toward your mouth then back up again, slowly. your entire body goes still.
his phone vibrates sharply in his pocket, the moment breaks instantly. Hollis closes his eyes briefly like he hates the interruption. you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. he pulls his phone out, glances at the screen. his jaw tightens immediately afterward.
you notice it instantly, “what?”
he locks the screen again too quickly, “nothing.” lie, but before you can push further—he looks back at you again. making the tension’s even worse now. this time you both know exactly what almost happened.
your eyes search his face carefully now. you don’t see the headlines, or the arrogance, or the clips online. you just see him. tired, overworked, and trying so hard to hold himself together this week. and somehow still soft with you anyway. your chest aches a little at that realization.
Hollis watches you carefully, like he’s waiting for you to move away first. you don’t, instead—before you can overthink it—your hand lifts slowly toward his face. he goes still immediately when your fingers brush lightly against his cheek. warm skin, slight roughness from the forming bruise earlier. his breathing catches almost invisibly, “…y/n.” he says quietly, warning and disbelief all at once.
but you’re already too far gone now, because this is the part that ruins you: he looks at you like nobody’s taken care of him gently in a very long time. maybe that’s what finally does it. your fingers curl lightly against his jaw, warm skin beneath your fingertips with a slight roughness where the bruise from training started forming earlier. Hollis goes completely still, like even breathing too hard might ruin this moment. you can feel your own heartbeat everywhere now, in your throat, your chest, and your fingertips against his face. before you can lose the nerve—you lean in, your lips press softly against his. you kiss him carefully at first, almost hesitant. some part of you still can’t believe this is actually happening. you’re giving him the chance to stop you, to pull away, to remind you this is a bad idea. he doesn’t. for one full second, he freezes completely—stunned. his brain genuinely can’t catch up fast enough. you can’t lie, that almost makes you pull away until his hand suddenly slides to your waist, quickly and instinctively. the movement pulls a small breath from you immediately. then he’s pulling you closer, like he physically can’t help it anymore. that’s when the kiss changes completely. all the restraint between you finally snaps at once. the weeks of tension, the long looks, the late-night conversations, the constant touching, him almost saying something at the party, the ring he got you, and the almost kissing in hotel hallways—all of it crashes together at the same time. his grip tightens slightly against your side as he kisses you deeper now, warmer, needier. and god—Hollis kisses like he feels things too intensely. like he’s been holding this back for way too long. your other hand slides lightly against his chest without thinking, you can feel how fast his heart’s beating too which somehow affects you even worse. beneath all the confidence—all the arrogance—all the cameras and headlines and ego—he’s shaking just slightly under your hands like this matters to him more than he wants it to. his forehead brushes yours briefly when he breathes in between kisses, but neither of you fully pulls away. you can feel the warmth of his skin, his hand still firm against your waist, his thumb moving once against your side absentmindedly. the city around you disappears completely, no traffic, no music below, no fight week, no cameras. just him, just this. the kiss slows eventually, not because either of you wants it to—but because breathing becomes necessary. you pull back first, barely. just enough for air. your lips still almost brushing his. Hollis just stares at you. his breathing is uneven and his eyes are darker than before. he looks completely wrecked in a way you’ve never seen him look like you just shattered every bit of self-control he had left this week. honestly? you probably did.
immediately, reality crashes back in. your eyes widen slightly. oh my god. you just kissed him.
Hollis looks just as affected honestly, he’s still close enough that you can feel his breath against your skin.
neither of you says anything because what are you supposed to say after that? you’re his cut woman, his staff. this is stupid, reckless, and completely unprofessional. regardless, you already know you’d do it again. your hand slips slowly from his jaw, “…we probably shouldn’t have done that.” your voice comes out quieter than expected.
Hollis stares at you for another second then another, “probably not.” both of you sound uncertain about not doing it which is already a problem, what definitely makes it a problem is that he says it while still holding your waist.
neither of you moves. the wind brushes softly against your skin. his hand is still on your waist. your chest is still pressed lightly against his. that feels even more intimate now than the kiss itself. your brain is screaming at you finally. this is a mistake. this is reckless. you work for him. he has a fight in three days. but your body doesn’t seem interested in listening. Hollis is still looking at you like he hasn’t fully come back down yet either. his thumb shifts once against your waist again absentmindedly. it’s a small movement, barely there—still enough to make your stomach flip violently.
you let out a shaky breath, “this is bad timing.”you try to sound joking but you don’t.
Hollis huffs softly through his nose, almost a laugh. “yeah.” but he doesn’t let go, that’s the problem.
you finally force yourself to take half a step back, just enough to breathe properly again.
his hand slips from your waist slowly, reluctantly.
suddenly the air feels worse, you look away first. the city lights blur slightly below from how hard your heart’s pounding. “you should probably sleep,” you murmur quietly.
neither of you moves again. you almost laugh at how ridiculous this is because five minutes ago you were both pretending not to say what this was. now you’re standing on a rooftop trying to act normal after kissing like the world was ending.
Hollis runs one hand back through his damp hair slowly, still watching you.
your head snaps toward him immediately, “what?”
his expression shifts slightly then. he’s less guarded. he’s not cocky, neither is he teasing. he’s honest in a way that almost hurts. “…the kiss.”
oh. your chest tightens instantly because suddenly you realize: he actually wants to know. this isn’t for his ego. this isn’t for reassurance. it’s because he genuinely cares what your answer is.
you stare at him for a second too long then shake your head slowly, “no.”
his entire body relaxes slightly, so slight most people wouldn’t notice. you do. it affects you more than anything else tonight because Hollis has spent weeks acting untouchable, reckless, unbothered. although with you, he’s been nothing that. and right now, he looks relieved. your heartbeat speeds up again, “…do you?” the question leaves your mouth before you can stop it.
Hollis looks at you for exactly one second before answering, “not even a little.”
god. you physically look away again trying to hide the effect that answer has on you. a quiet laugh escapes you under your breath. you’re so nervous, “we’re so screwed.”
that finally gets a real smile out of him. it’s small. you can tell he’s tired, but his voice is very soft—almost like a whisper. “probably.”
silence settles again after that. but now it feels completely different because now he knows and you know. there’s no pretending this is just tension anymore, it’s real now. deep down that realization terrifies you a little because the fight hasn’t even happened yet. the pressure this week is already crushing him. people are already watching too closely and somehow—despite every logical reason not to—you still want to kiss him again.
Hollis glances toward the rooftop door finally then back at you, “you should get some sleep.”
you nod slightly, “yeah.” another pause. neither of you says goodnight immediately because that suddenly too small for what just happened.
eventually, Hollis steps back first—barely. before he turns toward the door—his fingers brush lightly against yours. it’s a swift moved you can tell he’s being careful. he couldn’t leave without touching you one more time. that tiny gesture ruins you more than the kiss did because it feels real, it is real.
the hotel feels quieter when you finally get back to your room. it’s way too quiet. you close the door behind you and lean back against it. you immediately close your eyes. bad idea because all you see is him. his hand on your waist, his voice, his smile. the way he looked relieved when you said you didn’t regret it.
your stomach flips again, “oh my god.” you bury your face in your hands. this is ridiculous. you’ve fought professionally. worked championship fights. traveled the world. and somehow one boy has completely ruined your ability to think.
you kick your shoes off, change into pajamas, brush your teeth, and wash your face.none of it helps. every time you stop moving—you think about the rooftop again. eventually you crawl into bed. then immediately stare at the ceiling. you’re awake. completely awake.
across the hotel—Hollis is having the exact same problem. his room is dark, phone face-down on the nightstand, and the city lights filtering faintly through the curtains. he’s been lying there for twenty-three minutes. not that he’s counting (he is). he rolls onto his side. then onto his back. then onto his other side. still awake. every time he closes his eyes—he remembers your hand on his face, the way you kissed him first, and the way you laughed afterward and said: “we’re so screwed.”
his mouth twitches despite himself then he groans. throwing an arm over his eyes, “yeah.”because he is. completely. his phone lights briefly on the nightstand. for one stupid second he considers texting you.
that’s it, nothing crazy, nothing dramatic. he doesn’t—because if you’re awake too he already knows how that conversation ends.neither of you sleeping. instead, he flips his phone back over and stares at the ceiling again. still awake.
four doors away— you are doing the exact same things and neither of you knows it.
you walk in ready for the day, your hair is still slightly damp from showering. your phone is in one hand. you’re halfway toward the table before you see him. Hollis is already there. he’s in a black beater, wearing his rings, and his hair is messy. his head is tilted slightly while Roman says something across the table. his eyes lift. and land on you immediately. your steps slow for maybe half a second. last night hits all over again. you remember his hand on your waist, the warmth of his mouth against yours, and the way he pulled you closer like instinct.
Hollis watches you approach quietly, he looks calmer today. which is pretty odd, he was a wreck yesterday, but you brushing that off. it’s good to see him look more toned down than yesterday. he doesn’t have that smug or cocky look on his face, neither is he acting different. he just looks softer around the edges somehow. almost like something in him settled after last night.
Nate notices you first, “finally,” he mutters dramatically. “somebody save me from listening to Roman talk about schedules.”
Roman doesn’t even look up, “because our schedules matter.”
“not at eight in the morning.”
you smile faintly, “good morning, guys.”
Ryan nods toward you, Nate’s still half-asleep. Roman slides a coffee order toward your seat automatically.
Hollis doesn’t say anything immediately, he just watches you pull your chair out beside Ryan. “you sleep at all?” Hollis asks out of nowhere. the question itself is normal, but the way he says it isn’t. it’s a little too quiet.
your stomach flips once, you glance at him finally. you really glance at him and regret it shortly after because now you know exactly what he looks like kissing you, “a little,” you answer calmly.
his eyes stay on you for one second longer than they should, “good.”
Ryan keeps talking about something across the table. Nate complains about training. Roman checks his phone. underneath all of it, something between you and Hollis changed permanently. deep down, you have no clue what to do. you think everybody’s going to start noticing soon, especially because now the tension isn’t uncertainty anymore.
the streets are already crazy by the time you guys head out. cars moving too fast, music coming from all ends, and the warm morning air is all around the city. the group walks together toward the training gym a few blocks away. Nate’s talking loudly about breakfast, Ryan’s laughing at him, and Roman’s already on a phone call with somebody from the promotion.
you and Hollis end up beside each other again, like usual now. your shoulder brushes his occasionally while you walk. it’s not enough for anyone else to really notice but enough that both of you do.
both of you guys have sunglasses on today. Hollis has his hood up slightly despite the heat, the other hand is holding his drink. every now and then his arm bumps yours lightly when the sidewalk narrows. neither of you moves away anymore, “you alive?” he asks quietly beside you.
you glance toward him, “barely.”
“same.” his voice still sounds softer today. he sounds and acts less sharp around the edges. the worst part is that you think it’s only with you.
your phone vibrates suddenly in your hand. you glance down automatically then stop walking for half a second. the name staring back at you makes your stomach drop instantly. it’s Naomi, a very old friend. you haven’t seen that name on your phone in years. a text preview sits underneath it.
Naomi: heard i’ll see you thursday. crazy world lol.
your stomach turns immediately. everything around you suddenly feels too loud. another message appears before you can even process the first.
Naomi: i’m so proud of you btw.
your face changes before you can stop it. Hollis notices immediately, “what?”
you blink once and snap out of it fast. “nothing.” you say too quickly, trying to make it seem like nothing happened.
you lock your phone instantly and shove it back into your hoodie pocket. Nate’s still arguing with Ryan ahead of you. Roman’s distracted on his call.
nobody else notices, Hollis does.his eyes stay on you for another second behind the sunglasses, “didn’t look like nothing.”
you force a small shrug while continuing to walk, “just somebody from home.” you tell him which technically, it’s true.
Hollis watches you carefully now, not pushing (for now) but you can feel him thinking about it.
for the first time since he met you—you look pretty shaken, there was that moment at the mountain but it wasn’t like now.
you clear your throat slightly, trying to reset yourself. “what time are media people getting there today?” you change the subject.
Hollis notices that too, surprisingly—he lets you do it. “around noon.”
you nod once, trying to act composed. your fingers tighten slightly around your coffee cup. per usual, Hollis notices as well.
Hollis already looks irritated before sparring even starts. he doesn’t look explosive, it’s worse. he’s too quiet which gives it away. it’s the kind of mood where everybody around him starts speaking a little more carefully.
you notice it immediately while wrapping supplies near the edge of the mat. his movements are sharper today and more aggressive.
Marcus notices too, “relax your shoulders,” he calls.
Hollis barely nods. he immediately goes too hard again. his sparring partner stumbles backward from a heavy hit.
Nate winces from nearby, “jesus.”
Ryan glances toward you briefly.
you can tell everybody can feel something’s off today.
Hollis wipes sweat from his mouth with the back of his glove, he’s breathing heavier now but his eyes keep flicking toward you. you get a weird feeling, you work with him and you two kissed. you kissed him first actually. you remember his hand on your waist, his mouth against yours, and the way he said: “not even a little.” your stomach tightens every single time you think about it.
another round starts and it gets messy fast. Hollis is distracted. you can tell. one second he’s too aggressive then half a second late.
Marcus notices immediately, “focus.”
Hollis throws another combination too recklessly. he gets caught up. his sparring partner’s glove catches him hard across the eyebrow. the crack echoes louder than expected and everyone pauses slightly.
Hollis barely reacts at first. then blood starts running down the side of his face.
“time,” Marcus says instantly.
Hollis backs up shaking his head already, “i’m fine.” he absolutely is not. blood drips down past his cheekbone now. his expression darkening immediately from frustration more than pain.
“bro,” Nate mutters quietly.
you’re already moving before anyone says anything else. your professional mode instantly taking over, “Hollis.”
he wipes the blood away with his glove roughly, annoyed. “i’m good.”
another streak of blood runs down his temple immediately after he says it.
you stop directly in front of him now. “Hollis,” you say more firmly this time, “i need to patch you up. we don’t want this getting worse.”
his jaw tightens. he knows you’re right, but he’s too frustrated to stop yet. “one more round.”
“absolutely not,” you reply immediately.
his eyes snap toward yours at the tone. a beat passes. weirdly—he listens, not fully, not happily, but he stops arguing for half a second. which apparently shocks everybody nearby.
Ryan actually blinks. Nate looks openly confused. usually when Hollis gets like this nobody calms him down quickly. Past cut men and women have actually quit when it came to Hollis arguing back.
Marcus walks over finally, sweat towel around his neck. his expression unimpressed, “she’s right.”
Hollis exhales sharply through his nose, still angry.
Marcus points toward the cut, “this is sparring. not the damn fight.” silence.
Hollis finally looks away first, frustration rolling off him in waves. “…fine.”
your chest loosens slightly because you genuinely had no idea if he would listen, but he did, for you. that realization feels almost too intimate now.
entering the medical room, everything is much quieter. muffled music through the walls, distant shouting, and gloves hitting pads somewhere far off. in the room, it’s only you two. the door clicks shut behind Hollis as he walks in first. he’s still sweaty and still irritated. the blood dried slightly near his eyebrow now. you follow him in carrying gauze, wraps, disinfectant, “sit.”
he drops onto the bench without arguing this time, which honestly says enough already. you step between his knees carefully to examine the cut better. Hollis tilts his head back slightly so you can look at it. his eyes stay on you the entire time. you try not to think about how close he is, you fail immediately. “it’s not too bad,” you murmur softly.
“that’s because you kept getting hit after it opened.”
he huffs quietly through his nose, not disagreeing. you dampen the gauze carefully before pressing it gently against the cut. Hollis flinches slightly.
his mouth twitches faintly,
“watching you get punched in the face? definitely.”
that finally pulls a quieter laugh from him. it was small, you can tell he’s tired. it didn’t sound fake either. and god—you think you like this version of him most.
the room falls quieter again after that. your fingers move carefully against his skin while cleaning the cut. you’re gentle and precise.
Hollis watches you the entire time. not even pretending otherwise. eventually, you feel it.
“…you keep looking at me like that.” his voice is low.
you glance up briefly, “like what?”
his eyes flick slowly across your face like he’s thinking too hard before answering, “like you’re somewhere else.”
your stomach tightens slightly because maybe you are. last night keeps replaying in your head against your will. rooftop, his hands, his mouth against yours. you focus back on the cut quickly,“i’m concentrating.”
“liar.” the word comes softer than teasing, almost fond.
you shake your head slightly trying not to smile,“hold still.”
he does, immediately. honestly, it affects you more than it should because Hollis listens to almost nobody. yet somehow—with you? he always eventually does.
once the cut’s cleaned properly, you move closer to place butterfly closures carefully across the split skin. his breathing shifts slightly when your thumb brushes near his temple. it’s small and barely noticeable, you notice anyway. the tension in here feels unbearable now. thick. warm. quiet.
your fingers linger for maybe half a second too long after finishing. Hollis notices that too.
“…you regret it now?” the question comes suddenly. he whispers it quietly.
your eyes lift toward his immediately. there it is again— not ego or arrogance, something more vulnerable than that. like despite everything—he still needs to know.
you stare at him for a second before answering honestly, “…if i regretted it,” you say softly, “i wouldn’t be here with you.”
his entire expression changes slightly after that. its subtle but enough. something in him eases again.
your chest tightens at the reaction. you clear your throat lightly afterward. trying to act professional again, or trying to be. “give me your hand.”
Hollis holds his hand out automatically.!you start wrapping it carefully. slow loops around his knuckles, his wrist, between his fingers. it feels too intimate now, everything does.
his gaze stays on your face while you work steady, heavy. “…come out with me later.”
you pause briefly mid-wrap, “what?”
“after media.” his voice stays calm. as if what he’s asking is normal. like asking you to walk around Mexico City alone with him after kissing you on a rooftop isn’t completely dangerous.
he shrugs slightly, “don’t know yet.” a beat. “just wanna be around you.”
oh. your fingers tighten slightly against the wrap before you catch yourself.
Hollis notices immediately.
you finish securing the wrap carefully before finally looking up at him again. honestly, he probably does.
you swallow once, trying very hard to stay composed. “you’re making this difficult.”
his mouth tilts faintly, “you kissed me first.”
your breath catches instantly, because he’s right. “…Hollis.” the warning in your voice completely dies the second he smiles properly. the walk later tonight already feels inevitable.
the second you and Hollis walk back into the gym, the noise hits again immediately. the private moment from five minutes ago already feels unreal, except not really because when Hollis walks past you toward the ring— his fingers brush lightly against your wrist first. the action was very subtle and swift. but it was still enough to make your stomach flip again. he steps back into training calmer now. still intense, still sharp but less reckless.
Marcus notices almost immediately, “better,” he says firmly after a clean combination.
Hollis just nods once, focused again.
from nearby, Nate watches the ring while sitting beside you against the wall. wrists wrapped and hoodie tied around his waist. “did you threaten him or something?” he asks suddenly.
you glance toward him, “what?”
Nate nods toward Hollis sparring again, “he was acting insane earlier.”
you try to keep your expression neutral, “he’s fine now.”
“yeah,” Nate says slowly. “that’s what’s weird.”
you fight a smile unsuccessfully. Nate notices immediately, “…oh my god.”
he laughs quietly under his breath. then leans back against the wall again. for a minute both of you just watch training. Ryan’s arguing with Marcus now. Roman’s helping one of the newer fighters nearby. Hollis lands another clean hit in the ring. the gym feels oddly comfortable suddenly.
Nate breaks the silence first, “you got any friends back home?”
the question catches you slightly off guard. you glance toward him again, “not really.”
you shrug faintly, trying to sound casual about it.“well…not anymore.”
Nate’s expression softens slightly.
you keep your eyes on the ring while speaking, “after high school everything kinda…” you pause briefly. “…changed.” technically the understatement of the century. “i just focused on work after that.” you pick lightly at the tape roll in your hands. “career stuff. traveling. fighting.”
a beat. “…didn’t really leave room for much else.”
Nate stares at you for a second, “wait.”
you already know that tone, “what?”
“are we your first friends?”
you laugh immediately. somehow hearing it out loud sounds ridiculous, “…basically, yeah. i’d consider you guys real ones.”
Nate looks genuinely offended for you, “that’s actually sad.”
you shove his shoulder lightly, “thanks.”
“no seriously,” he says, grinning now. “that means you’re stuck with us forever.”
your smile lingers longer than expected after that. weirdly—you think he means it.
Nate watches the ring again afterward, quieter this time. then: “…i got a fight in like two months.”
his expression’s different now. it’s less joking and more thoughtful.
he exhales quietly through his nose, “…kinda.” he says, voice full of honesty.
you nod slightly because you understand that feeling too well, “that’s normal.”
“yeah but,” he shrugs lightly, “everybody keeps acting like i should already know how to handle all this.”
you look at him carefully for a second, “you don’t have to act fearless all the time.”
Nate’s eyes flick toward you, listening closely now.
“being nervous before a fight doesn’t mean you’re not ready.” you glance toward the ring again where Hollis is training. “usually it means you actually care.”
silence settles briefly after that. Nate smiles faintly, “you’re good at this.”
you furrow your brow thinking about it because that’s probably the first time someone’s ever said that to you.
before you can answer though—Nate speaks again, quieter now. “…they’re finding cutmen for the rest of us after this trip.”
you nod slowly. you already knew that part. still—something about hearing it out loud feels strange.
Nate looks down at his wraps briefly before speaking again, “wish you were staying longer though.”
your expression softens immediately, “Nate—”
“i mean it,” he says quickly. “you make this stuff less terrifying.”
your chest aches a little at how sincere he sounds. you smile softly, “you’re gonna do great.”
Nate huffs quietly, “…yeah?”
you nod firmly. certain about you’re response, “yeah. i believe in you. you’ve improved a lot since i’ve started working here. ”
Nate smiles, “thanks to you. why did you even help me anyway?” he genuinely asks.
“because, i see me in you.”
across the gym, Hollis looks over toward you at that exact moment. and even from across the room—you can feel his eyes linger.
lights. cameras. microphones. people talking over each other. you’ve been standing off to the side for almost twenty minutes already.
Nate’s interview finished, Ryan’s too, and Roman escaped somehow. that leaves Hollis, still sitting beneath bright studio lights. one leg bouncing slightly beneath the table, his hoodie sleeves pushed up, and fresh tape still visible around one wrist. he looks tired. it’s not enough for cameras to notice, but it’s enough for you to.
the interviewer smiles toward him, “you’ve been doing this for a long time now.”
Hollis nods once, “long enough.”
a few people laugh softly. “when you look back at your earlier career, what do you think about most?”
he leans back slightly in his chair, thinking. “…how young i was.”
the room chuckles, “fair.”
“seriously though.” his expression softens slightly. “i thought i knew everything.”
that gets a bigger laugh, even Hollis smiles.
“and now?” he huffs. “now i know i don’t.”
the interviewer nods, “what’s been the biggest change?”
a beat. “probably learning that talent isn’t enough.”
the room quiets slightly because that’s more honest than they expected.
Hollis shrugs, “there’s always somebody more talented.” another pause. “discipline matters more.”
Marcus, standing near the back of the room, looks vaguely proud. which is rare, he typically doesn’t express his facial expressions like that.
the interviewer glances down at her notes, “you’ve had a pretty public career.” that gets a small laugh from everyone. understatement. “there have been controversies.” another laugh.“more than one.”
Hollis smiles despite himself, “maybe.”
“how do you deal with criticism?”
his expression changes slightly. he’s not defensive, just thoughtful. “depends who’s talking.”
he looks down briefly, “if it’s somebody i respect?” a shrug. “i listen.”
“i don’t.” the answer comes so quickly the room laughs again.
the interviewer shakes her head, “that’s probably the most Hollis answer possible.”
“yeah.” more laughter. for a second things feel lighter. it feels easier.
“what are you most afraid of as an athlete?”
the room stills slightly, that’s a real question. Hollis goes quiet. the silence is long enough that people start paying attention, you do too.
something about his expression changes briefly, he looks tired again, more vulnerable. “wasting it.” the answer comes quietly.
his eyes flick downward, “the opportunity.” a pause. “not everybody gets to do this.”
you feel your chest tighten slightly because he means it. for all the headlines, all the ego, all the chaos. he genuinely means it.
the interviewer nods slowly, “and after boxing?”
Hollis immediately laughs, “after?”
“i’m trying to survive Thursday first.”
the room erupts again, even you smile.
the interviewer glances toward a producer. who signals one final question. “last one.” the room settles.
“what keeps you grounded during weeks like this?”
you expect some generic answer. his family. his coaches. the routine he follows, something safe.
instead Hollis pauses, thinking. his eyes drift across the room and unfortunately—they land on you. only for a second, a teeny-tiny second but you see it. your stomach drops immediately. he looks away again just as fast.
the interviewer doesn’t seem to notice, thank god.
“…good people.” his answer is simple. “that’s probably it.”
the interviewer smiles, “good answer.”
Hollis just nods. the cameras finally cut and everybody relaxes instantly. conversations start up again. chairs move. people stand.
from across the room—Hollis finds you immediately. it’s not obvious or dramatic, it’s automatic. like after an hour of cameras and questions—you’re the first thing he wants to look for.
after interviews you guys head back to the gym. the gym is closed to the public, mostly. the room is filled with: photographers, videographers, social media teams, sponsors, and promotion staff.
Nate looks seconds away from losing his mind, “i swear i’ve taken the same picture fourteen times.”
the photographer doesn’t even look up, “fifteen.”
Ryan immediately starts laughing.
Roman shakes his head, “you should’ve never corrected him.”
the room breaks into laughter, even the photographer smiles. “okay.” he points toward the ring. “let’s get some training shots.”
that gets everyone’s attention, finally. something they actually know how to do.
Nate jumps into the ring first, shadowboxing dramatically.
the photographer lowers his camera, “less movie trailer.”
Ryan nearly falls over laughing. Nate points at him, “yeah, you’re next.”
sure enough, Ryan gets photographed on the heavy bag. throwing combinations. moving naturally, looking annoyingly photogenic.
“he’s a natural,” Nate mutters.
Roman’s turn is somehow worse because he doesn’t even try. he just wraps his hands. looks up once.
every photographer in the room loses their minds. “perfect.” “great.” “hold that.”
Nate looks offended, “he didn’t even do anything!”
Roman shrugs, “skill issue.”
Ryan starts choking laughing again.
“Hollis.” the room shifts slightly because even the photographers know. he’s the headliner.
the cameras immediately turn toward him. Hollis steps into the ring, already gloved, already sweating slightly from training. his hoodie is gone, along with his tank top. the bruise near his eyebrow visible now.
the room gets quieter. unlike the others, Hollis doesn’t pose. he just trains. the photographer follows him around the ring.
he works the mitts next. fast and sharp. the sound echoes through the gym.
cameras firing constantly. Marcus watches from nearby with arms crossed, looking satisfied for once.
“can we get some corner shots?” the photographer gestures toward the ropes. “make it look like fight night.”
Hollis sits down on the stool, elbows resting on his knees—breathing heavier now. he actually looks exhausted. he’s not the fighter and he’s not the celebrity, just a twenty-something year old carrying way too much pressure. the cameras eat it up.
you’re standing off to the side, watching—because that’s your job, making sure he’s okay, making sure the cut hasn’t reopened, making sure he doesn’t overdo it.
The photographers finally call a break, “cut.”
“five minutes.” the room immediately relaxes. all the cameras lower, the lights dim slightly, and the crew members start moving equipment around.
Hollis sits down on the edge of the ring apron, his elbows resting on his knees, and his gloves hanging loosely from his hands. he looks so exhausted. he doesn’t look like anything the world perceives him as. he looks like regular guy who’s been training since god knows how early.
you grab a water bottle from nearby and the towel sitting beside you. before settling down on the ring apron a few feet from him, “here.”
Hollis takes the bottle without looking, “thanks.”his voice sounds rough. he twists the cap off immediately and takes a long drink.
you sit quietly beside him, watching him carefully. same as always, “how’s the cut?”
his eyes shift toward you. you scoot a little closer, carefully lifting his chin slightly. the bruise near his eyebrow has darkened. but thankfully—the cut itself looks okay. “looks good.” you nod once. “don’t touch it.”
“that’s my professional opinion.”
he huffs a laugh, “very inspiring.”
you roll your eyes, “you’re welcome.”
another sip of water. another quiet moment. “my neck hurts.” he says suddenly.
Hollis shrugs, “right side.” he reaches up absently, touching just beneath his jaw. “think i slept weird.”
“or.” you gesture toward the gym. “you’ve been getting punched professionally.”
you laugh then move closer, “let me see.”
he doesn’t hesitate, not even a little. he just tilts his head toward you automatically like he trusts you to.
your fingers brush lightly against the side of his neck. checking for swelling, tension, and anything concerning. his muscles immediately tense beneath your fingertips. you don’t notice, he definitely does.
“that hurt?” you press gently.
you hum softly, thinking. “you’re fine.”
“wow.” he sounds relieved. “thanks, doctor.”
you smile despite yourself.
“stay there.” the photographer tells the both of you.
before you can react— click! it’s a picture. both of you sitting on the edge of the ring, one hand still near his neck. both of you focused entirely on each other. completely unaware. the photographer immediately looks down at the screen, “…that’s good.” he takes two more.
you don’t think much of it. you lean back again, already focused on whether Hollis needs more water. whether training starts again soon. whether Marcus is about to yell at somebody.
Hollis does though. when he glances toward the monitor—he catches sight of the photo. suddenly—every other picture from today feels stupid. the glove shots. the ring shots. the sponsor shots. all of it. because this one isn’t posed, you aren’t looking at the camera, he isn’t looking at the camera. you’re looking at him, checking if he’s okay. for some reason—that picture affects him more than every promo shot they’ve taken all week.
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voguelatam Fight week in Mexico City. Four fighters spending endless hours in the gym. A city watching their every move. Between training, cameras, and preparation, the work never stops. Days before stepping into the ring, Hollis Frazier-Herndon (@2hollis), Nate Sib (@nate_sib), Ryan Demma (@antihumanform), and Roman Leal (@rommulas) trade the spotlight for the gym floor—where the real work happens.
Photographed exclusively for Vogue Latin America
voguefanatic vogue knew EXACTLY what they were doing putting that photo last
fightweekmx mexico city chapter is feeding families
2hollisluvr can somebody explain why the candid feels more intimate than the actual couple photos i’ve seen online
-> user cause they’re dating
-> user i meann i would get with the white tiger too
ryansbiggestfan the way they’re all naturally photogenic is annoying
fightgirly y/n checking his injury and him looking normal about it????
-> user i swear he was evil
sweetlikehoney y/n nation we are UP
sydneyluvs ryan in these pictures is something i was NOT prepared for today
fightnightupdates mexico city looks good on them
angelnumbers444 okay but the candid?????
-> user y/n 😭😭😭 is 😭😭 so 😭😭 lucky😭😭
hollisbabi HOLLIS IS SO FINE
Hollis is at peace, finally. he steps out of the shower. his hair is damp. he throws on a black beater. a towel draped around his neck. he grabs his phone from the nightstand. three notifications. one from Roman, one from Nate, and one group chat. he opens it and scrolls and keeps scrolling. the farther he gets—the worse it gets. his jaw tightens slightly. he keeps reading.
Hollis leans back against the headboard thinking. suddenly: the long hours. the constant work. the way she always dodges personal questions makes a little more sense. he thinks about this morning, the way her face dropped after that text from Massachusetts. she immediately pretended she was fine and the way she always pretends she’s fine. his thumb taps once against the side of his phone. before he can overthink it—he opens your messages and stares at the empty chat. he types. deletes. types again. three dots. he stares at the screen and sends another.
across the hall, you’re sitting cross-legged on your bed. still half-working. you’ve been answering emails because apparently that’s your favorite hobby. your phone buzzes. you glance down and immediately smile. which is embarrassing. very embarrassing. you open it and read it once. you read it again and immediately know exactly what he’s talking about. he’s talking about earlier in medical room when he’d casually mentioned walking around the city together later.
you type back. seen, almost immediately. which tells you he was already staring at his phone. your smile grows. you laugh, actually laugh. alone in your hotel room like an idiot. another text appears. your stomach flips at how serious he is. he is not flirting and he’s not teasing you, he’s actually asking. you bite your lip realizing what you’ve gotten yourself into. it’s wrong but… you can’t stop.
6 o’clock comes faster than either of you expect, which is probably a bad sign. somehow you’ve spent the last hour checking the time every ten minutes (not that you’d ever admit that). your phone buzzes, it’s Hollis. he’s downstairs. your stomach immediately flips. it’s annoying, very annoying. you grab your room key and head for the elevator. you try very hard to act normal. getting to the lobby, you can see it is busy. it’s nearly filled with everyone trying to get everywhere but you spot him immediately, he’s standing near the entrance. his hands are shoved into his pockets. he’s wearing black shirt, black jeans, and black shoes. he’s looking entirely too good for somebody supposedly going on a casual walk. he looks up and finds you instantly. his expression softens slightly, “hey.”
“hey.” you stop beside him. neither of you moves, which feels ridiculous because you’ve literally kissed. somehow this feels more awkward.
Hollis saves both of you, “ready?”
the warm air hits immediately when the hotel doors open. the city is still very much alive, everything glowing gold beneath the setting sun. for a while—you just walk side by side. it feels very natural and comfortable, like you’ve done this a hundred times before even though you haven’t.
you glance toward him, “where are we going?”
you stare, “that’s your plan?”
you laugh, “you’re unbelievable.”
“that’s what people tell me.”
you shake your head, still smiling. Hollis catches it. he notices everything lately—especially when it comes to you.
the sidewalk gets busier: people passing in every direction, a family, street vendors, friends taking pictures. the city feels alive in a way that’s impossible not to love.
you slow slightly near a small stand selling snacks, mostly because you’re curious, partly because you got distracted.
Hollis notices immediately, “you hungry?”
“good.” he points. “normal answer.”
you laugh, “what was the wrong answer?”
“‘no thanks, i’m surviving entirely on caffeine and stress.’”
you stare at him, “…that’s oddly specific.”
you roll your eyes but he’s smiling now, that real smile. the one that’s become increasingly dangerous for your health. every time you see it—you understand a little more why this happened.
the lights begin flickering on around you. the sky turning darker overhead. for the first time all week—it’s peaceful. although with Hollis, you find peace in only the two of you. there are no cameras or interviews. there isn’t coaches yelling nonstop or sponsors needing content. there isn’t any expectations. it’s just the two of you walking through Mexico City pretending this isn’t a date while both of you know perfectly well that it is.
somehow—you end up back on the rooftop again. it feels ridiculous and strangely inevitable. the city stretches endlessly below. there is millions of lights. you can hear music from the top of the hotel and see hundreds of cars going about their night. it’s beautiful to look at. you lean lightly against the railing taking it all in.
while neither of you says much, just enjoying it. the break from everything. you’ve also grew to enjoy Hollis’ company.
you exhale softly, “…i’m really glad i came.”
Hollis glances over, “to Mexico?”
he huffs a laugh, “what’s the other part?”
you look back out at the skyline thinking. somehow it’s harder to say than you expected, “all of this.” a pause. “the trip.” another pause.“you guys.” your fingers tighten slightly around the railing, “you.” the last word comes out quieter. it almost gets lost beneath all the noice around you guys but he hears it.
when you glance over—he’s already looking at you. he’d just listening to you talk, really listening. which makes it easier. you smile softly, “i don’t think i’ve had this much fun in years.”honest, completely honest.
you immediately laugh, “wow.”
he grins, “you’re welcome.”
you shake your head still smiling. your expression softens again, “no but seriously.” your eyes drift back toward the city, “thank you.”
Hollis goes quiet because he knows you mean it. not just the trip, everything. the coffee. the walks. the conversations. the way he keeps showing up. all of it. his jaw shifts slightly, almost uncomfortable with being thanked. “you don’t have to thank me.”
“i do.” you glance at him. “you’ve showed me a lot.”
his brows pull together slightly, “like what?”
you think about it for a second, “how to have fun again.” the words leave before you can stop them. you feel the air change slightly because that’s not a casual answer. it’s real. you look down briefly, laughing once under your breath.“that sounded dramatic.”
you nudge his shoulder. he smiles but it fades after a moment because he notices something. the way your expression changed afterward, the way your eyes dropped. the way they always do when things get personal. he doesn’t let you escape it, not this time. “…what happened?” he asks.
“i’m not dumb Y/n, i saw how you looked when you got that text.”
your heartbeat stutters, you know what he means now.
you stare out at the city again. for the first time since meeting him—you seriously consider telling him. the rooftop falls quiet, the wind brushes softly through your hair.beside you—Hollis waits. he’s not pushing you to answer. well, technically he is but he’s just there. letting you decide.
“…Massachusetts?” he asks quietly.
your press your lips into a thin line. you stare out at the skyline for another second. then another.“what do you know about Massachusetts?”
Hollis shrugs lightly, “nothing.” a pause. “just seems like every time somebody mentions home you look like you want to leave the room.”
you let out a short laugh, not because it’s funny, because he’s right. “that’s rude.”
you hate that it’s true. you look down briefly, “so, who told you about that?”
Hollis glances over, “nobody told me anything.” a beat. “Ryan and Nate just said you don’t really talk to anybody back home.”
of course. you shake your head, already feeling embarrassed. “they weren’t supposed to tell you that.”
“they didn’t make it sound dramatic.”
“because it isn’t.” lie, both of you know it’s a lie. the silence stretches and for a second you almost abandon the conversation completely and change the subject or make a joke. except Hollis is still standing there just waiting which makes you feel worse.
you exhale slowly, “i used to have people.” your voice comes out quieter than expected. Hollis doesn’t interrupt you. just listens.
your throat tightens slightly. even now—years later—it still hurts a bit, “my best friend.” you laugh softly but it comes out bitter. “i don’t know, everything that led up to that week ruined everything.” your eyes stay fixed on the city because looking at him feels impossible right now. “i think i just had a lot going on.”
Hollis’ jaw tightens slightly but he stays quiet. you appreciate that more than he knows, “i was so exhausted. like… genuinely exhausted. every day felt like I was drowning.” the memories now feel like a bruise. “i wasn’t sleeping or eating right. i was just trying to finish high school and i was getting ready to fight the person i’d spent years calling my best friend.”
“your best friend?” Hollis asks, his voice is quieter now. it sounds more careful, trying not to push too hard. you stare out at the city for a second.
then nod, “she was my best friend.” the words feel strange now given the fact that the both of you are older now. the word belongs to somebody else. “everything that led up to that week just ruined everything.” a pause. “our friendship included.”
the city lights blur together below.
you fold your arms tighter across yourself, “we trained together since we were kids.” another pause. “same gym, same coaches, same everything.” a humorless laugh slips out, “people compared us constantly.” you shake your head, “we used to joke about it.”
“then the fight got announced. senior year and graduation week.” “and everything just…” you search for the word. “…fell apart.” “i had to complete nearly all my finals. i was on the verge of not graduating for my attendance. i was training every morning and night.” you huff a laugh, “and god, my dad is was breathing down my neck every second.” you shake your head. “he wanted me to win that fight so badly.” you remember the expectations every had. you also remember her, always her. “everything became about fighting.” your voice stays steady, barely. “and then I found out she was seeing him.”
Hollis’ brows pull together, “…him?”
“the guy I was with.” you glance down, suddenly unable to look at him. “i don’t even think they meant for me to find out.” a bitter laugh leaves you, “but I did.”
silence. the city now feels quieter. you kick lightly at the concrete beneath your shoe. “imagine if your best friend took the only person you’ve ever wanted.” your voice comes out softer now, less angry and more honest. “wouldn’t that hurt you?”
when you finally look over—Hollis is already staring at you intensely. his expression is unreadable. “yeah.” he says immediately. “It’d hurt me a lot.”
something in your chest tightens because he says it like he means it. like he’s actually imagining it. you look away first.
“I lost both of them in the same week.” your throat tightens but you’re not sure why, it’s old news. “and after the fight…” a pause. “nothing felt the same.”
the rooftop falls quiet and the wind moves softly around both of you.
“…did you ever miss her?” Hollis asks. the question catches you completely off guard.
you stare out at the city thinking, actually thinking. nobody’s ever asked you that before.“every day.” you tell him being honest about it. “at first.” a long pause. “now?” you give a small shrug, still a little sad about it. “I think I miss who she used to be.”
there’s a shared silence between the two.
“it all sounds stupid now. it was high school but at seventeen?” you shrug, “it felt like the end of the world. there’s just some things that ruin your ability to trust anybody like that again.”
you can still feel Hollis staring. he’s not judging you about it, which makes it harder.
“i was just a wreck. i was angry, hurt, but, if anything—i felt so embarrassed. everybody kept telling me to focus.” you shake your head. “and I couldn’t.” because that’s the truth, the honest truth. you swallow, “my head wasn’t in the fight at all.”
the memory hits harder now of everything that happened in the ring, “i got hurt.” your voice drops. “i got hurt really bad.”
for what feels like the first time tonight—you glance toward him. his expression immediately changes into concern.
you look away again, “the cut woman I had that night…” a small faint smile appears, “she basically put me back together.” you laugh softly, “afterward she told me something.”
you think back to that night. sitting in a locker room with ice against your face, feeling like your entire life had fallen apart, “she said there are different ways to stay in the sport.” your smile grows slightly. “that fighting isn’t the only way.”you glance toward the city. “she’s the reason i became a cut woman.”
the rooftop falls quiet again but this silence feels different. its a lot light now that he knows. you finally look at him again and immediately regret it. because Hollis isn’t looking at you differently. he’s looking at you exactly the same, maybe softer.
his eyes stay on yours steadily, watching your every move. “nothing.” lie.
you narrow your eyes, “Hollis.”
he huffs quietly through his nose then looks back out at the city, “that’s a lot for anybody.” he says simply. no pity. no treating you like you’re fragile, just understanding.
“i’m over it. sometimes when you remember things they hurt like the first time it happens. im also just a little to dramatic.”
he huffs, running a hand through his hair. “you can be.”
you roll your eyes lovingly, “thanks.”
“you’re welcome.” the smile lingers for a second before it disappears. you notice the way his shoulders tense and the way his jaw tightens afterward. it’s barely noticeable but you’ve spent enough time around fighters to recognize it immediately. he’s anxious. you tilt your head slightly, “what?”
his brows furrow, “do what?”
“the thing where you pretend everything’s fine.” a beat.” “i invented that.”
that finally gets a small laugh out of him.
you smile then your expression softens, “seriously.”
for a second you think he’s going to dodge the question.
“weigh-in’s tomorrow.” he says out of no where, telling you the truth.
you stare because that’s not what you expected, “…okay?”
he looks out toward the city, not at you “everybody keeps acting like the fight’s already won.”
his voice stays calm but you hear it—the pressure underneath.
“the promotions, interviews, coaches.” he laughs quietly without humor. “even my own friends.”
you don’t say anything, just listen. the same way he listened to you.
“and if i lose?” that gets your attention immediately because Hollis never talks like that, ever.
he notices your expression and shakes his head, “i’m not saying i will.”
his jaw shifts, “but everybody keeps talking about the future.” another pause. “nobody talks about what happens if i screw it up.”
your chest aches slightly. suddenly—he doesn’t sound like the loud, reckless guy from the interviews. he sounds young and tired.
you step a little closer, your shoulder brushing his lightly. “you won’t.”
he glances at you, “you don’t know that.”
“i do.” the answer comes immediately without hesitation. that catches him off guard. you smile softly, “because i’ve seen you this week and the weeks before that.” a pause. “i’ve seen how hard you’ve worked.” another pause. “you care way too much to lose.”
his eyes stay on yours. focusing on what you have to say—like he’s trying to memorize every word. your hand finds his forearm gently, “you’re allowed to be nervous.” you squeeze lightly. “that doesn’t mean you’re going to fail.”
something in his expression shifts, not completely but it’s enough that you know he believes you—at least a little.
the rooftop falls quiet again. its comforting until hollis speaks again. “…can i ask you something?”
your stomach immediately flips because of the way he says it too casual which means it’s definitely not casual.
you immediately choke on your own breath, “Hollis.”
he laughs, actually laughs for the first time all night. “that’s not a no.”
you point at him, “you are impossible.”
you try so hard not to smile and fail immediately because unfortunately—he looks entirely too pleased with himself. “it’s a bad idea.”
“you have a fight in two days.”
he takes one small step closer and suddenly you’re forgetting your own argument. which is irritating, very irritating. his eyes flick briefly toward your mouth then back up and your heart almost stops. you lift a finger quickly,
pressing it lightly against his lips before he can say another word.
his eyes widen slightly, more surprised than you’ve ever seen him.
“absolutely not.” you tell him. trying—and failing—to sound stern. “you’re not getting another kiss until after the fight.”
a pause. his brows lift and you smile, “after you win.”
the look he gives you afterward nearly destroys your ability to think completely.
the conversation finally starts drifting away from serious things. the tension isn’t gone, it’s just easier now that neither of you guys are hiding anymore.
Hollis glances down at his phone, “we’ve been up here forever.”
you laugh, “that’s your fault.”
“yeah because you’re nosy.”
he actually smiles, “you’re one to talk.”
you roll your eyes then something catches your attention, “…wait.”
Hollis looks over, “what?”
you pull your phone out and check the time. you immediately groan, “oh my god.”
that gets a laugh out of him, “ no way.”
you hold up your screen, “look.”
11:47 PM. the weigh-in is tomorrow, training starts early. and somehow you’ve spent half the night standing on a rooftop talking.
you point dramatically, “Hollis.”
he already knows what’s coming, “no.”
you stare and he stares back. “…that’s not helping your argument.”
a laugh escapes both of you. you notice the city lights behind him. the skyline, the moment, and an idea hits, “wait.”
His eyebrows lift immediately, “why?”
“just come here.” You pull your phone out, “picture.”
“oh.” a beat. “…that’s less exciting.”
you nudge his arm, “get over here.”
he finally steps close beside you, way too close. neither of you mention it.
you turn the camera around, the city glowing behind both of you. your shoulder brushing his, the wind moving through your hair.
click! the picture takes anyway. you immediately laugh because Hollis wasn’t looking at the camera, at all. he was looking at you, “…you’re impossible.”
he leans over slightly, looking at the screen.“that’s not bad.”
“it’s literally proof you weren’t paying attention.”
his eyes flick toward yours briefly, “…sure.”
your stomach betrays you instantly, you decide not to acknowledge that—very mature. you save the photo then point toward the rooftop door, “alright.”
he groans dramatically and you laugh, “Hollis, seriously.”
a smile tugs at his mouth, “you sound like my Marcus.”
“good.” you start walking toward the door. he falls into step beside you automatically like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
the elevator ride down is quiet. neither of you looking at your phones and neither of you really want the night to end. eventually, you guys reach your floor. the hallway is mostly empty and it’s quiet.
your room sits only a few doors away, you top outside it and turn toward him. neither of you says anything again. saying goodnight suddenly feels harder than it should. you smile softly first, “good luck tomorrow.”
his expression shifts. his confidence and his jokes are gone for a second. it’s just him looking at you, “…thanks.”
you hesitate. before you can overthink it—you lean forward and pull him down. you press a quick kiss against his cheek. its soft and warm. it’s gone almost immediately. when you pull back
Hollis looks completely caught off guard, actually speechless.
personally, you think it might be your greatest achievement so far. you smile, trying not to laugh. “goodnight, Hollis.”
for a second he just stares before finally saying, “…night.”
you swipe your keycard and open your door. before stepping inside—you glance back one last time and he’s still standing there, watching you. still looking slightly flustered, which makes your smile grow.
then the door closes. Hollis remains in the hallway for another few seconds. staring at the spot where you disappeared before quietly touching the cheek you kissed. he’s realizing sleep is definitely not happening tonight.
your hotel room is dark. you can faintly see the lights through the curtains. your phone sits abandoned on the nightstand. emails are unanswered for once. you’re exhausted in everything— emotionally, physically, and mentally. the rooftop conversation keeps replaying in your head: the city, the lights, the pictures. more importantly—the way he looked at you and the fact you kissed on his cheek. your face immediately buries deeper into your pillow. it’s embarrassing with how you feel about everything when it comes to Hollis, very embarrassing. regardless, he smile still sneaks onto your face anyway.
eventually, sleep wins. your breathing slows.
and for the first time in years—fall asleep feeling lighter.
across the hotel—Hollis is having the exact opposite experience. he’s flat on his back. staring at the ceiling, wide awake. one arm is behind his head the other is resting across his stomach. he hasn’t moved in fifteen minutes. not because he’s tired but because his brain won’t shut up. the weigh-in is tomorrow.
the fight is getting so close now. media, training, and interviews would be all he’d thinking about. instead—he’s thinking about you.
which is a problem, a massive problem. his eyes close briefly. immediately he sees: you laughing in the café, you singing one of his old songs, the lucha libre masks, you wrapping his hands, the rooftop, the way you looked at him tonight, and the kiss on his cheek.
his eyes open again, “…fuck.” the word slips quietly into the darkness. somewhere between coffee runs and late-night conversations—this stopped being a crush, or curiosity, or flirting. and became something worse, something real.
he actually likes you, a lot. the realization settles heavily in his chest. and somehow that’s scarier than the fight. because fighting? he’s done that majority of his life. this? this is completely different.
his phone vibrates suddenly against the mattress. the sound breaks through the silence. Hollis grabs it without thinking. expecting Marcus, Roman, random fight update. deep down, he expects it to be you.
his stomach immediately drops, not because he’s excited. its the exact opposite. he stares at the screen. the message preview appears.
Melissa: seen you’re in mexico
a second message arrives.
Melissa: you gonna answer me or keep pretending i don’t exist?
Hollis closes his eyes briefly, immediately annoyed. six months ago maybe this would’ve affected him. maybe he would’ve answered. maybe he would’ve cared. now all he can think about is how different it feels, how empty this feels. compared to standing on a rooftop talking to you for hours. compared to the way you kissed his cheek. compared to the way you told him good luck.
his thumb hovers over the screen for a second, then another. finally, he locks the phone and tosses it back onto the nightstand. face down, unread, ignored.
for the first time—Melissa isn’t the person keeping him awake at night anymore. you are. and that’s when Hollis realizes he’s completely screwed.
taglist: @2bun22 @2horsey @natesibsdih @jjscoquette @suxyio @2krush22 @akemimi @qiyokuliife @kingoveverything @zombiegirl777 @ka1aia @malcomtoddsn1gf @swaggotsnoticeswaggots @hepdeerness
an: OUUU SHIII ITS FINALLY HERE, pls don’t attack me this isn’t proofread all the way through. ITS THE LONGEST CHAPTER. i ❤️ u.
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