tyler had thought he had a control over his strength, had thought that he had gotten a handle on the brute force that came with being a hybrid. apparently he had thought wrong.

it hadn’t been something intentional. he and jeremy had been sparring together for a few weeks, just helping jeremy build his strength up. tyler had been doing good at holding back, not wanting to actually hurt the younger male.

he wasn’t sure what had gone wrong this time.

they had been fighting and tyler had gotten a hold on jeremy, an arm locked across his throat, but not tight enough to choke him, trying to let jeremy work out his best options for breaking out of the grip. tyler couldn’t recall what jeremy had done exactly, he just remembers flexing his arm and the resounding crack that kept echoing in his head.

he’s on the floor now, jeremy cradled in his lap, the other’s head on his shoulder. he’s got one arm around the younger teen, his other hand gripping on to jeremy’s while he stares at the ring there, making sure it’s not some figment of his imagination.

jeremy comes to with a start, nearly cracking his forehead off tyler’s jaw, breathing heavily as he curls himself around the hybrid, fingers gripping at the bare skin of tyler’s back.

“jere,” tyler states softly, moving his arms around jeremy’s back, pressing his face into the other’s neck, “i’m sorry,” he murmurs, finding himself murmuring over and over like a mantra.