“How the fuck are those exercises have anything to do with boxing?” Ryan spoke more hoarsely than he would have liked, as he stepped off the treadmill. He put his hands on his hips and leaned forward slightly, hoping to get more air into his aching lungs.

Max made him jog for about twenty minutes on the treadmill, then do push-ups, squats, and lift weights to strengthen his arm muscles before running for another twenty minutes. He was already exhausted, and they hadn't even begun boxing practice.

His muscles were already tired from running for so long, and his legs felt shaky. Sweat was trickling down his neck and back, clinging to his clothes, which made him feel dirty and cold.

"I told you boxing is a serious sport, and keeping your body in shape is an important part of it," Max murmured, grinning at him as he crossed his arms around his chest and stood comfortably in the ring.

“I'm going to be sick,” Ryan admitted between breaths.

“Revenge of the pancakes,” Max said, trying hard not to laugh, but his amusement was visible in his eyes.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I told you, you wouldn't last an hour."

“Come.” Max motioned to Ryan with his hand. “We’re gonna start with the boxing stance.”

Ryan took another gulp of air, straightened, and strode to the boxing ring, where he took a position in the centre of the ring, a few feet away from Max.

Max started walking towards Ryan, his muscles flexing with each step. He had a beautiful form, Ryan noted, that could only be achieved through daily training, beginning at a young age. His skin was like a lovely wrap of earthen hues, slick and smooth, almost free of scars and flaws. So terribly different from his own.

As he approached, Ryan dared to catch a glimpse of his handsome face. His chiselled cheekbones complemented his straight nose, and his full pink lips appeared soft, curved up with a smile. His hair was brown with light, almost reddish strokes running through it. Max unexpectedly turned around to stand behind Ryan, and Ryan’s body went still.

He could feel Max's body heat radiating from him as he stood behind him, only a few inches between them. "Place your left leg slightly further than your right," he said in a low voice, tapping his left foot between Ryan's legs to spread them apart. Ryan followed.

"Good. Now make a fist with your fingers," he said as he raised Ryan's right hand to face level and held it there, then slid his hand from Ryan's hand, over his arm, and to his shoulder, causing Ryan's body to shudder as he sucked a breath that got lodged in his throat.

"A punch comes from your shoulder," he said, and Ryan felt Max's breath on the back of his neck, raising all the tiny hairs on the back of his neck. He then slid his right hand off Ryan's shoulder, down his lower back, and stopped just below his waist, saying, "and from your hip."

His heart began to race in his chest, and his breathing became quick and shallow. He wanted to lean back into that warmth, to steal it from the body behind him and wrap it around himself to soothe his aching body.

Max then placed his left hand on Ryan's left waist and moved his hips from side to side. "Like this." Ryan could feel Max’s fingers pressing against his skin, the shirt providing a useless barrier between them.

Ryan's pulse quickened, his throat became dry, and he swallowed hard in an effort to calm his heart when Max abruptly broke the closeness, taking a step back and turning to stand in front of him, leaving him feeling bare and cold without Max's body heat close to him. Max's brown eyes locked with his.

They were close enough that he could see the different shades of brown in those eyes. His eyes were the colour of wet soil, just bright enough to catch the light in the shadows, and they were intertwined with pale shades of golden honey. He had this intensity in his stare, but also a gentleness in it.

"Hit," Max said, raising his right hand, palm facing Ryan's face.

Ryan was about to swing a punch when a sound of a loud crush erupted from Aaron’s office, startling both Max and Ryan. "Dad?" Max yelled as he dropped his hand to his side and striding to the office. Ryan walked behind him. 

The scene when he opened the office door was alarming. Connor was pressed into a corner of the room, his body trembling and his hands covering his head. His father stood a few steps away from him, hands raised, attempting to reassure Connor while calling him by name.

Before entering the room, Max cast a quick glance between them. He looked at his father, who just shook his head and whispered, "there was a picture..." in response to Max's perplexed expression. Max nodded to his father and approached his friend with caution. He leaned in front of him, hands on his shoulders, pushing him from the wall to his body while whispering in his ear.

Ryan just stared at them, unsure what to do or how to react to the situation, though something in him shrank at the sight of both of them, and he wasn't sure whether it was out of compassion or jealousy.