@marwan-simposium Jan prompt Doomed relationship and I'm just looking out for you
Watch your step, kid (protect ya neck, kid)
Majid wasn’t sure why he was still with these people. He had met Nile and Nicky at a bar, since then he had become some sort of… mascot to the five. They took him around the world, he enjoyed that.
He spared with them, and had learned more about fighting in an afternoon with Andy than he had learned in the rest of his life at gyms.
He ate with them. Majid hadn't been so pleasantly full in…well, he couldn't remember.
After Nicky and Nile had first brought Majid home with them, while Nicky was cooking, Nile had explained. She had shown Majid a few photos of Joe.
Majid had to admit, the likeness was undeniable. But the immortal part?
He had watched Nile open her forearm time after time before he could believe.
He had thought that Nicky would try to get Majid to replace the man who had been his partner for over 900 years. But Nicky never came on to him. Nicky never called him by the wrong name. Nicky never lost sight that Majid was Majid.
After a few weeks with the group, Majid started slipping into bed with the crusader, holding him while they slept.
That was just what they did for over a year.
Nicky never asked for more, but if he had, Majid would have said yes.
If any of them had asked he would have said yes.
Majid wished one of them would ask.
They were in Philadelphia for - well he didn’t know what, he never knew what until they were on to the next thing. Nicky had kissed Majid’s hand before slipping into the dark, it wasn’t the normal thing that Nicky would do in the morning. Majid rolled over and went back to sleep.
He woke to his foot being kicked. Booker said, “Up now.”
Majid glared up at the Frenchmen, “Why?”
“We are in Philadelphia,” Booker said, “And Nile said there is something you wanted to do.”
“The statue?” Majid asked.
“The statue,” Nile said from the door.
Majid was a bit surprised when they pulled up to the Art Museum. This wasn’t where he had wanted to go. He had wanted to see the statue of the real boxer.
“Welp?” Nile asked with a huge grin on her face.
“Let’s do this,” Majid said.
“I’ll meet you back down here,” Booker said, “At the statue.”
It was 72 steps with a flat area a bit more than half way up. The run was, well it was 72 weird shaped stairs. It wasn’t hard exactly. It was just what you did in Philadelphia, especially if you were a fighter.
At the top they looked back down the stairs. Back down into the city. Back down to the statue of a man who never existed.
“Twice as many people visit the Rocky statue as go see the Liberty Bell,” Nile said.
“People like movies,” Majid said, his breath still harsh, his thighs still warm from restricting his stride, “It was Joe Frazier that ran these stairs. A real fighter.”
Majid was a little surprised that he sounded bitter about it.
“Well,” Nile said, “You know.”
Mijid just nodded, looking down. Not looking at Nile. He knew something else was coming but he wasn’t going to ask. He just started down the stairs. They met Booker at the statue.
“Come on, kid,” Booker said, “we need to have a talk.”
They walked back to the car and Nile got into the driver’s seat and Booker pulled Majid into the back. They were all quiet for a bit when Nile said, “he brought up Joe Frazier.”
“So we chose well then,” Booker said, the whole sentence sounded like a sigh.
Majid stayed silent as they drove, waiting for the others to tell him what this was about, but no one said anything until they pulled up to a Victorian industrial brick building.
“So, we are leaving you behind in this city,” Booker said, “Whatever you have with Nicky is doomed.”
“I don’t have anything with Nicky,” Majid said.
Booker kept on like Majid hadn’t said anything, “you are going to get older, and he is going to stay the same. He has already lost Joe, and I am not going to watch his heart get broken again.”
Nile turned, looking over the back of the seat, “We’re just looking out for you.”
Majid didn’t interject.
“Let’s show you what we got you,” Booker said.
“I can read,” Majid said. He could read ��Joe Frazier’s Gym’ and see the boxing gloves carved over the front windows. It was a beautiful building with a haunted abandoned look to it, “This is Joe Frazier’s Gym.”
“Well,” Booker went on, “it is Majid Zamari’s gym now.”
“I can’t run a gym,” Majid, “Who has that kind of money?”
“You do,” Nile said, “Nicky has been setting aside money for you.”
“Joe’s share,” Booker added. Majid took a step back at the naked grief on Booker’s face. Majid could feel his own grief for his brother rising.
Maijd could feel that he was about to be alone again.
He hated being alone.
“You are going to be working with kids at risk and people who have been incarcerated,” Nile said, “Copley set it up.”
“There are apartments upstairs,” Booker said, “We are going to leave you here.”
“My things?”
“In the trunk,” Nile said gently.
They got his bags and walked through the empty building and up into an apartment that was bigger than any apartment Majid had ever lived. Even when he lived with his parents.
Then the immortals left him alone.
*
Five years passed. The reopened Frazier’s gym thrived. Majid spent his days turning people away from the path he had walked after his release. The gym was full and busy. Majid was happy. Or at least he had a purpose for the first time in his life. There was a well thumbed Quran in his desk with a note tucked into it. The note read,
Majid,
This was his. I know that you want to leave, and it is unfair to hold you. You
have his face and that was a comfort to me when I needed it.
Thrive Majid Zamari.
~N-
Letters came. Money came. The gym thrived.
And then one early morning when he was doing his own workout before the doors were open when the immortal Italian just sort of appeared next to him.
“You look well,” Nicky said.
Majid turned away from the heavy bag and looked hard at Nicky, “You look…Different?”
“I’m not immortal,” Nicky said with a shrug, “Do you need someone to teach sword forms?”
Majid smiled, “It seems I was looking to hire someone to do just that.”
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