𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑 ➵ tsh + characters

✩ comfort | boxer!tom/t.h

summary: comforting tom after he loses a fight

genre: boxer!tom, slight angst, fluff || warnings: mentions of injury, blood

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Tom's body aches. Every limb feels heavy, his eyes burn, and the gash on his cheekbone is painful, yet he pays no mind to his injuries because rage flows through him like lava.

He's just lost a fight.

The constant cheers for his opponent are loud and unwavering and his heart pangs with jealousy, the rage nearly consuming him. The voices of the people quieten down when he walks into the greenroom. His anger starts to fade away when he catches a glimpse of you waiting for him. You instantly throw yourself in his arms as he holds back a wince. Your sweet scent hits his nose, and your familiar hold brings him comfort. You pull away, your eyes going to the gash on his cheek. You gently cup his cheeks, as he nuzzles into your touch, bringing his hand to rest over yours.

"I lost," He says. You already know this, of course, you were watching the whole fight. Your chest tightened every time the opponent struck a punch to Tom's face. Even the losing ones. You could easily tell he was distraught.

"You did well though," You console, eyes skimming over his battered face. Tom clenches his jaw at your words and averts his gaze from you. You sigh and drag him over to the bench where he seats himself and you grab the first aid kit to treat him.

Tom winces when the gauze pad comes in contact with his skin, pain searing through him. You apologize and continue to clean the blood smeared over his face.

"I thought I'd win," He breaks the silence. Eyes clenched shut, and jaw taut.

"It's okay, baby, you don't learn from winning, you learn from losing." You say, pushing his messy curls back, which you knew soothed him.

"I know, I just..." He trails off, taking a deep breath as you carefully pull him against yourself, arms going behind his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your waist instinctively, head resting on your stomach, as you thread your fingers through his locks.

"It's alright." You say softly, bending down to place a gentle kiss to his head. He just nods, you know he's not in the mood to talk so you don't press further. "Let's go home now, yeah? Tess is waiting for you." You say and he looks up at you, lips curled in a small appreciative smile.

"Let's go." He replies, getting up and taking your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your lips, mindful of his busted lip.

He knows you'll do everything to make him feel better, and he's grateful for it. He's glad he has you.

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