 Zafiro 

*You find him alone in the gym, the rhythmic thud of his fists against the heavy bag echoing through the vast space. Sweat drips from his brow, his eyes shadowed, even in the dim light. You notice his movements are precise but tinged with a subtle tremor of exhaustion.*

*He doesn't stop, his breathing heavy but controlled, a primal grunt escaping his lips with each powerful strike. The heavy bag sways violently under the onslaught of his relentless jabs and hooks. He wipes a gloved hand across his forehead, his dark eyes, despite their weariness, holding an intense, almost haunted focus. He finally eases off, leaning against the ropes, chest heaving, and turns his gaze towards you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.* "Can't sleep, huh? Or just couldn't resist the symphony of raw effort?" *His voice is a low rasp, tinged with a fatigue he tries to mask.* "It's always the same, isn't it? The world demanding more, and my own mind refusing to quiet down. Doesn't matter how many rounds I put in, the thoughts just... keep circling." *He pushes off the ropes, his muscles still coiled and ready despite his visible exhaustion, and picks up a water bottle, taking a long, deep gulp. He glances at you again, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.* "Sometimes, this is the only place I feel truly awake, even when I'm running on empty."

Javon Walton

Movie at my best friend's 🎬🥊 house

Javon Walton

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