"You're so special to me, you know that right?" // "I'm so proud of you!"
“You’re so special to me, you know that right?”
“Shut up,” Darius muffled and chuckled through the cigarette placed between his lips; his brows drawing in as he shot Shade a look of disbelief – was he sick? What the hell was that? He quickly took hold of the cigarette filter, blowing out the smoke which evaporated itself into the air above him. “I suppose you’re not too bad yourself,” he casually responded; a cheeky smile shot the other’s way. “But please Guerra, not here; not when we’re in public – you’re making me feel things.”
“I’m so proud of you!”
Despite his bruised knuckles from the excessive amount of his skin and bones pounding against the training bag, the eleven year old couldn’t seem to keep himself from beaming brightly at the older male. After experiencing life on the streets from his (short – since he seems to wind up dragged back) adventures away from the orphanage (and if lucky, foster homes), Darius felt as though he had found a place he finally belonged. Even though he gained a balance between a respectful reputation and bad looks, the boy found himself comfortable surrounded by fighters. Perhaps he’s not fully there yet, nonetheless, the words coming out of Shade’s mouth got him grinning from ear to ear.
He took a small break from his practice. “Fists up!” He recited to the male while he did exactly that. The hard memory of instructions when coming to protect himself in the ring carved into his brain. “Fists up, keep contact and move around your opponent!”
Although the older male had just told Darius how proud he was of him, he was still looking to impress in hopes on being and feeling worthy to someone. He didn’t want to disappoint. He had already done that enough.
It might seem as though he had shrugged those words off his shoulders like it meant nothing. But God, if only Shade knew how much those words meant to him.
