Darren was late. Again.
Shit shit shit
Nothing but air rushing his ears right now as he sprinted towards his lecture building. He barely dodged a group of girls and hopped over a dog that ran into his path.
He really should be paying more attention to where he's going but right now his minds a little preoccupied with the fact that his stupid alarm is probably broken as this was the third time this week it didnt ring on time.
It was a typical Thursday morning in Dublin. Dreary grey sky and equally depressing buildings. Everything smelling of wet cobblestones and piss.
He finally reached his building and snuck into a seat at the back as quietly as he could. Some people still glared at him anyways.
Jeez he's looking at me like I killed his mom or something chill out bitch fuckin hell man
The lecturer barely glanced at him. There was always someone late and he long since stopped giving a shit.
He took out his notepad and pen as quickly as possible and set up his phone to record the lecture.
Bounce bounce bounce his leg just keeps bouncing bounce bounce bounce it will probably never stop bounce bounce bounce maybe we could connect a water wheel or something make it a renewable energy source lol.
The lecturer keeps prattling on about the sumerians and showing pictures of those tablets with chicken scratch that is apparently words. Darren tries his best to keep listening but drawing eyes in the corner of the page is so fun tho.
Scribble scribble scribble ah what a lovely eye wait what did he say?
College can be a pretty loud place especially when your brain doesn't know when to shut the fuck up and today of course was no exception.
The buzzing and spitzing of the lights. Hundreds of fingers tapping keyboards. Whispered jokes. A Vine playing too loudly on someone's phone two rows down. And that damn radiator gurgling and rattling softly over in the corner.
Stupid thing doesn't even fucking work
And then that fucking guy that glared at him earlier had the audacity to pull out a cereal bar of all things.
And will all this of course the lecturers voice becomes nothing more than meaningless word sludge in a sea of sounds. Eventually he snaps out of it and realises he just lost ten minutes of that lecture.
Thank god I got permission to record.
Eventually the lecture ends and he rushes out. Oh fresh air how I've missed you.
He's practically skipping down the road. He's got nowhere to be until tomorrow. The bookshop's closed today. No shifts. No plans.
Maybe I should go to Charlies? Yeah I like that idea.
He whistles to himself as he makes his way to Charlie's gym.
There she is!
The gym's shut. Lights off, sign flipped, roller door down.
Huh, weird. Bit early for Charlie to shut up shop... maybe wifey wanted him home early or something I dunno.
Good thing I got a key.
The door opens with a jump he nearly falls through. As usual it's as dark as a dungeon and smells like old sweat, rusted pipes and a subtle smell of the bleach Charlie uses to clean the blood.
He doesn't turn the main lights on. Just the red neon that runs along the ceiling.
He throws his bag in the corner pulls off his jeans and puts on his shorts and starts wrapping his hands. Just the way Charlie taught him. Hoodie tossed with the bag.
Now for some stretches wouldn't want to tear something would we?
He rolls his neck then goes through his stretching routine arm windmills all that jazz.
Finally done starts bouncing in place, fists twitching in their wraps, breath already quick.
The gym was dead quiet except for the buzz of red neon stuttering across the ceiling.
Some music was screaming in his ears. It was loud. He liked it loud.
The heavy bag shook with the first jab. The chain jolted and dust rained from the rafters.
Second. Third. His cross snapped in tight. Hook. Elbow.
Teep. Jab. Cross. Low kick. Reset.
"Ha!" He attempted a roundhouse but his heel slipped. He managed to recover quick and keep moving.
One, two, buckle my shoe three four shut the door... wait why am i singing? Shit.
His mind drifted. Was that four or five?
He struck harder.
He tried to focus, on form, on weight shifts, on exhaling when he struck. But part of him was still running running running on and on never stopping always droning constantly in the background.
"SHUT UP,"
The playlist shifted. Monster. The riff kicked in hard and fast. He liked that. Gave him something to chase.
The secret side of me... I never let you see...
He lost himself in it. Hook, kick, elbow, clinch.
He yanked the headphones off. Threw them to the mat. Let the silence hit.
Nothing except the clink of chain, rain on the roof, and the thunder of his pulse behind his ears.
He slammed an elbow into the bag. Another. Spinning elbow. The bag rocked.
A loud beeping alarm echoed through the empty gym. Times up.
His heartbeat roared in his ears and his body trembled. Chest heaving in harsh, uneven gulps.
What time is it? Shit, I forgot to eat dinner...
He shook his head hard.
The sweat stung his eyes.
He let himself drop to one knee. Hands on thighs.
The red light pulsed in the cracked mirror nearby. Hollow-eyed. Soaked.
He picked up the headphones. Linkin Park hummed through them now.
I tried so hard, and got so far...
He turned the music off.
When's that assignment due?
He wiped his face. Drank from the old dented metal bottle. It tasted like metal and home.
He stared at the bag. It barely swayed.
He'd probably be back tomorrow.