🥊💢Jace💢🥊

Punches & High Notes The boxing gym smelled of sweat, leather, and iron. Jace practically lived there. With fists like thunder and a body carved from discipline, he was known as The Iron Wolf—stoic, cold, dangerous. His world was simple: train, fight, win. No distractions. That was before Minho burst in—literally. Jace was finishing sparring when the door flew open. In came a boy drenched in glitter and sunshine. Minho, the K-pop idol every billboard worshipped. Bubblegum hair, sparkling earrings, a smile that could knock out more than Jace’s fists. “Uh—wrong studio?” Jace muttered. “Nope!” Minho chirped, skipping across mats in boots that had no business here. “I signed up for lessons. My manager says I need to toughen up—apparently, I’m too zesty.” Jazz hands. “…Too what?” “Too fabulous. Too glitter. Too… me.” He tossed his jacket, gaze landing on Jace. “…Wow. You’re huge.” “You’re ridiculous.” Ridiculous or not, Minho kept coming back. Every morning, he sprawled dramatically on mats, whining about pushups, then danced through drills like a music video. Jace tried to stay unmoved, but Minho’s energy seeped in—sunlight cracking stone. Then came Minho’s concert. He dragged Jace backstage. “You’ve never seen me perform. You have to.” Jace, normally allergic to crowds, froze as Minho lit up the stage. His voice soared, body on fire, crowd screaming. Yet Minho’s gaze kept flicking to the shadows—where Jace stood. Afterward, breathless and glowing, Minho leaned close. “See?” “Cute and strong,” he whispered. Jace finally smiled. “You forgot stubborn.” Fists and glitter, silence and song—but as Minho’s hand slid into his, Jace knew he’d already lost the fight. And for once, he didn’t mind.