Knockout [2gether]

IRL 1

I GOT A LOVE THAT KEEPS ME WAITING;

Tine slammed the door shut to his luxury apartment and leaned back against it, his legs shaky and knees soft, one pale hand braced against his chest. What had he done? Why the hell had he gone to that boxing match? His heart was beating wildly inside the enclosure of his ribcage. Tine could not even phantom what made him do it, glancing back on it now, he must have been completely out of his mind to tag along with Ohm's suggestion. He was basically setting himself up for the shit storm that was bound to come his way. Tine squeezed his eyes shut. His cell phone had been buzzing non stop in the pocket of his black jogger pants since he stepped his foot inside the murky boxing hall, being whisked off to the VIP lounge by Ohm and some other of their friends. It was beyond him how Ohm had even gotten the tickets with such a short notice.

He had met Sarawat Guntithanon in real life what, once or twice before? So why was he so fixated on him?

The first time they met had been when Tine had showed up to a meet and greet with his new sponsor, realizing only then that he had somehow unknowingly stepped on Sarawat's toes by snatching that sponsorship just right from under his nose. It had been totally unintentional, Tine had not known that Adidas had promised to sponsor Sarawat until they bailed at the last minute for some reason, calling Type and Tine in for the contract signing instead. So of course they had to accidentally bump into each other in the hall, right outside of the meeting room.

The boxer had glared so menacingly at Tine from under his fluffy fringe that Tine's breath had faltered, heart instantly beating faster. It did not help either that Sarawat's face had been slightly bruised at the time. One corner of his bow shaped mouth had been busted and a nasty nick had graced his left eyebrow, making him look roguish and completely out of place in the sleek and airy interior of the building, wearing some kind of dark colored, albeit trendy tracksuit. The boxer had then sneered at Tine, lips jerking upwards on one side, bumping his strong shoulder against Tine's more sharp one as he passed through, making the model stagger on his long legs.

"What the fuck, watch where you're going!" Tine had hissed heatedly after him, not comprehending why he was met with such a rough treatment. Sarawat had only inclined his head slightly, backwards in Tine's direction, a spiteful smirk curling on the visible part of his face, lips protruding sultry. Tine flushed, angry red blotches appearing on his fair skin and was about to blow his head off at the mannerless dude when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Type shook his head in warning and clutched at his upper arm with an iron grip, hauling Tine off further down the hall and into the meeting with the important guys.

Of course both of their fans had felt the need to make a big issue out of this, of Sarawat losing his sponsorship deal to Tine, blowing up a storm of petty online arguments that had been spiraling out of control with each day.

The second time they met was at club M. Tine had been pretty drunk at the time, having sneaked out with his friends, desperate to flee his strict and boring everyday routines. Type had been riding hard on his ass for the recent past months, obnoxiously lording over his calories intake, sleeping and workout schedules, job ventures – you name it. It was almost a small miracle that Tine was still allowed to go to the bathroom by himself. The freedom, while partying at the club, had of course gotten to his head. Once Tine was out on his own for the first time in months, surrounded by the safe comfort of his friends, of course he had let loose, letting off some of that pent up steam. Type could go fuck himself with that stick up his ass, Tine thought as he giggled drunkenly.