Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Axel was lucky.

First, to be born with the body he did, one of a natural athlete’s frame, lean and powerful, built for strength and precision. Second, to have been able to train it since he was young, honing his skills day after day, year after year, until he became the best—well, one of the best. And now, third, to have been accepted into another prestigious dojo after he made the hardest decision of his life one year ago, leaving behind everything he’d ever known for a chance to be better.

So yes, Axel was really lucky. He tried to remind himself of that as they reshot the same video over and over, the lights hot on his face and the camera’s unblinking eye judging his every word.

“Here, Axel. You have to look at this when you speak.” The woman behind the camera, the director of the promotional videos for the tournament he was participating in, pointed at a small mark on the lens. Her tone was patient but tinged with exhaustion.

Axel frowned. He knew that. He wasn’t dumb. But he wasn’t good at this, at talking, at being anything but a fighting machine. His words felt clumsy, his delivery flat, and everyone around him already seemed to have realized it. The crew exchanged glances, the kind that said, This is going to take a while.

Still, he nodded, got into position, and repeated the phrases they had given him, his voice steady but devoid of the passion he felt in the ring.

The director sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time and gave him a forced smile. “Take a few minutes, Axel.” She turned to the crew, who all seemed to exhale in unison. “We’ll come back in five.”

His chest hurt, and Axel looked down, his fists clenching at his sides. In this, his sensei—

Sensei Wolf was right. He was made for fighting, not talking.

“Alright.” Axel nodded and went to a corner near the entrance, resting his back against the wall.

He had wished his new sensei was there or at least some of his dojo companions when they started the shooting, not because they were close or anything, but he… he didn't want to do this alone. It was stupid, of course. Now, he was glad they weren’t there to see him fail on it, so in a way, Axel was lucky again. Lucky that his shame was his alone, that no one from the dojo had witnessed his struggle to string together a few coherent sentences.

Looking around the room and watching all these people work to help him, he was lucky to even have this as tiring as it was. After what he did to Keene… The thought cut through him like a blade.

Axel swallowed down, the lump in his throat refusing to budge. Keene. His mind always came back to Keene at some point. His scream of pain, his anguished expression, his smirk during the fight, the way his body moved—fluid, confident until it wasn’t. Until Axel had taken that from him. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the memories, but they were relentless.

It all kept coming back to him, and the moment he ruined everything. The moment he’d crossed a line he couldn’t uncross.

It didn’t matter that he knew Keene was doing well with his girlfriend as a professional athlete now. It didn't matter that his knee had healed. None of it seemed to matter because Axel would never forget the way Keene looked at him after what he did.

As if he didn't get why. Why would he hurt him like that? Why would he do a dirty move? Why was Axel the way he was? He didn’t know why he’d done it. He didn’t know why he’d let Sensei Wolf control him. He didn’t know why he couldn’t just be better, he thought, his chest tightening.

But he knew he would never forgive himself for it and not even have the guts to apologize later.

“C'mon, Robby. It will be fine. You have done this a thousand times.” A voice he still remembered to this day reached his ears, and Axel immediately opened his eyes to a sight he couldn’t believe.

Robby Keene and Miguel Diaz were walking together in the hallway leading to the shooting room. The fluorescent lights above cast a soft glow on Keene’s face, and for a moment, Axel couldn’t look away. Keene was smiling, a genuine, easy smile that Axel hadn’t seen before. He said something, his voice too low to catch, but whatever it was, it made Diaz laugh.

His breath hitched, his heart racing. Axel quickly turned around, as if that would hide him from Keene. Was he dreaming? It had happened a few times.

The sound of a slap echoed in the room, his hand burning. The surrounding crew members froze mid-motion, their wide-eyed stares burning into Axel's heated cheek. A boom operator lowered his equipment with glacial slowness, and the usual hive of pre-shoot activity dissolved into perfect stillness. Twenty pairs of eyes tracked the reddening handprint on Axel's face.

Yes, this was very real.

Heat prickled up his neck like a swarm of ants beneath his collar. "T-t-training," Axel choked out, shoulders snapping back to military stiffness as he stared at the coffee-stained floor tiles.

Crew members shuffled back into motion with the jerky hesitation of rewinding footage. While gripping cables and avoiding eye contact, the makeup artist suddenly became engrossed in her brush collection.

"Chill, Miguel. Axel isn't the only tall dude in karate." Keene came closer now—too close.

Axel should have stepped sideways. Should have melted into the crew members still pretending not to watch.

He should just move.

His boots fused with the floor. A bead of sweat traced his spine as fingertips brushed his shoulder blade. "Excuse me, can you—"

Don't turn, don't turn, don't breathe

Axel pivoted, the motion tearing through him like ripping off a bandage. Keene's sentence died midair, his eyes widening.

"I told you it was him!" Diaz said to Keene before narrowing his eyes at Axel, "I'd recognize this asshole anywhere."

Axel's pulse hammered in his ears. He deserved it. No, he deserved much worse, and he knew that very well for every single day since what he did. Keene's throat worked as he took half a step back.

His hand twitched, guided by the will to reach out and tell him that he would never hurt him like that again, that he wasn't that person anymore, but Diaz stepped up first.

"You got some nerve standing in front of him after what you—"

"Miguel." Keene's voice cracked like dry timber. He didn't blink, didn't breathe, just kept staring at Axel's tournament patch like it was a fresh wound.

Axel didn't know what to do. For a whole year, he had thought of everything he would say if he ever met Keene again, but now his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, and every rehearsed apology dissolved into static.

But he had to say something. He owed that to Keene.

He opened his mouth, and Diaz scowled already-

"Robby Keene. You are early." The director materialized between them, clipboard pressed to her sternum. Her gaze flickered between Axel and Keene. "What do you think of taking a few more minutes, Axel? I heard Robby here is quick to film, so we will shoot him, and then we will get back to you. How about it?"

He swallowed down. Of course, Keene was good at this. He had heard how he and Nichols were getting big as a couple and by themselves, so he should have expected it. Still, it stung a bit. If only I could be better. If I could be more like him instead of… me.

"That's alright." Axel nodded and stepped aside for Keene and Diaz to pass by.

They did so, Diaz switching sides to be the one close to him, getting a confused look from Keene as he guided him to the shooting area. Axel wished to stop them, to push Diaz aside and just talk to him as he needed to, but he couldn't.

The director faced him, "Wait in the hall, please?"

Axel nodded and left to the hallway. Crew laughter bled through the door—higher pitched when Keene delivered his lines right. The exact shade of Keene's knee when the ligaments tore showed in his mind. Voices crescendoed. A rhythmic clapping burst through, of Keene nailing the promo in one take.

Even through walls, Axel caught the director's relieved praise. "Perfect. Natural. You're a pro." His own botched attempts clogged his throat.

Keene deserved this. He did, and Axel was glad for him, but there was that ugly monster inside his chest that came around when Keene got in his mind.

"We are done, people! Take fifteen!" The director announced, loud enough for him to hear.

A few minutes later, Diaz and Keene left the shooting room, their smiles dropping once they saw him. Axel blinked a few times. It was understandable.

"Wait-" Axel reached out, his hand stopping mid-air when Keene and Diaz turned to him, the latter glaring at him immediately. "I just want to talk."

For a moment, he considered if Diaz would punch him in the face.

"It's okay, Miguel." Keene didn't let them find out if that would be the case, resting his hand on Diaz's shoulder. "It will be quick."

It would be. Keene definitely wouldn't forgive him; he didn't even expect him to in the first place, so unless the other boy wanted to hurt him in return, they shouldn't take long.

"Fine. But I'll be right there." Diaz told Keene and nodded at their side, patting his forearm and giving Axel one last deadly look.

A small smile pulled Keene's lips as he watched Miguel go to the other side of the hallway, but it was gone again as he faced Axel.

"So, what do you want?"

Axel pictured this so many times. He saw himself looking Keene in the eye with the respect he should get, but now he couldn’t bring himself to look up from the scuffed tile floor.

"I’m sorry." The words scraped out like gravel, his fingers twisting the hem of his clothes. "For your knee, and…" A shuddering breath filled the silence between them. "And I understand if I can’t be forgiven."

Keene crossed his arms. "Well, I’m mainly surprised. It’s been a year ." He tilted his head. "Why now?"

Axel swallowed hard. When he finally met Keene’s gaze, his eyes held a raw, watery intensity that he couldn't hide. "I didn’t have the courage. Every time I tried, I couldn't face what I did. I-" He shook his head, lump in his throat. "I’m sorry."

A beat passed. Two. Then Keene sighed in a way that seemed to deflate his entire frame. "Okay."

Axel didn't think he heard it right. "What?"

"I forgive you," Keene said as if it was in any way that simple.

The air left Axel’s lungs. He stared, wide-eyed, as Keene scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Don’t get me wrong—what you did messed me up. Couldn’t walk right for months. Still feel it when it rains." Keene looked down for a moment, at his knee, then back at Axel. "But…I know what it’s like. To hurt someone. Really hurt them." A shadow flickered behind his eyes. "So yeah. I forgive you now."

Axel stared at Keene, unable to understand what was happening. He shouldn't be forgiven. That wasn't what he had coming. Keene should hate him, curse him, tell him to fuck off, and even hit him if he wished to. Diaz was the only one who was making sense, glaring at him from where he stood as if he could kill him with one look.

And the thought of Keene being able, willing to injure someone like he did… it didn't fit.

"I…" Axel started, frowning, "Who was it?"

He needed to know more. To understand.

"It was Miguel." Keene took a deep breath before swallowing down. "I- I broke his back a while ago."

Axel frowned, his gaze flickering between Keene and Diaz. That couldn't be it. He expected Keene to say someone he didn't know, but Diaz? The one who seemed about to jump on him at any moment for looking at Keene the wrong way?

Of course, he remembered Sensei Wolf mentioning Diaz's past back injury, but he would have never imagined who was responsible for it.

"Yeah, I know." Keene snorted as if he could read his mind, a small, rueful smile tugging at his lips. "It's crazy shit, but somehow Miguel found it in himself to forgive me. So I just… I try to live up to that forgiveness. To be better. To never do something like that to anyone else, ever again."

Axel nodded slowly, knowing he had taken the first step toward that when he left Sensei Wolf, but he would have to carry that weight for the rest of his life. It was what he deserved and was only right.

"I can do that," he said, committing himself again to be better.

"Good," Keene replied, his tone softening. He leaned back slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing as his smile became an awkward grin. "We’re fine then."

Keene’s forgiveness hung in the air, and Axel didn't know what to say. Or, well, he did, but he couldn't. How ridiculous would it be for him to even think he and Keene could be like he and Diaz? Completely. But a part of him, painfully hopeful, wished to ask Keene if they could be… not friends, of course, Axel wasn't made for them, but something close?

“You don’t have to say anything else,” Keene said as if sensing the storm in Axel’s head. “We’re good. Seriously.”

Axel nodded, his fists clenched tight at his sides. He wanted to believe it, but the guilt was still there, coiled in his chest like a serpent. “Thanks,” he muttered.

Keene glanced over his shoulder at Diaz, who was hovering like a shadow, his arms crossed, “I should go before Miguel starts pacing a hole in the floor.”

“Yeah.” Axel forced a nod, his jaw tight. “Good luck with… everything.”

Keene raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You too." He started to turn but faced him last minute, "And hey—don’t overthink it. With the video. You are good."

You are good

You are good

You are good

The phrase repeated in his mind, and yet, he couldn't believe it.

"Right,” Axel said, but it felt hollow.

Keene gave him a nod, then turned and walked toward Diaz. The two exchanged a few quiet words, Diaz’s glare softening as he listened. Axel watched them. There was something about the way Keene carried himself now, something lighter than before. Kindness, it was it. The thing Sensei Wolf had said it was the worst of weaknesses, but Keene seemed to wear it proudly, and it looked good on him.

The director cut through the silence. “Axel! Back to work!”

Giving Keene one last look, he entered the room. The crew was already setting up again, the lights adjusting, the camera shifting into position. Axel took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders.

Don't overthink. You are good.

“Let’s try this again,” the director said, clipped but not unkind. “Remember—look at the camera, not your feet, and say the words naturally.”

Axel nodded, squaring his stance. The camera’s red light blinked on, and he cleared his throat. The words they’d given him felt stiff in his mouth, but he forced them out, his voice coming out more natural this time.

The director gave a curt nod when he finished. “Better. We’ll go again.”

That was better. Not perfect, but… better. Axel nodded, thinking of Keene. He was probably here for the tournament, too, and it was a possibility that they would fight again. Or be on the same team. He wouldn't know until tomorrow, but he hoped for the second option.

He would be more then. More than the guy who injured Keene, but the one here to protect him this time. Kindness should be returned, right? And Keene was kind enough to both forgive him and give him a piece of advice, so it was only fair for Axel to return it the only way he knew.

Fighting.

Robby never had a dog. How could he?

He was too busy taking care of himself and his mom to look out for a pet, so he mostly just gave food to some strays when he could.

Yet, he was starting to find out how people with guard dogs felt if the said guard dog was a giant dude who fought like a cyborg and beat up anyone who got near him. Which was kind of a problem when they were in a tournament that required him to fight.

Robby dodged a sloppy roundhouse kick, his opponent’s balance teetering on the edge of collapse. He shifted his weight, ready to counter, but a blur of black and red shot past him. Axel’s elbow connected with the guy’s jaw in a move so clean it felt rehearsed. The guy crumpled to the mat next to his duo, and Axel stood there like a sentinel or something.

Again.

Robby stepped back, his chest heaving. This was the third time. The third time Axel had swooped in and dismantled someone Robby had been moments away from taking down himself.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t handle these guys—he’d been holding his own just fine—but Axel moved like a shark in bloody water, leaving nothing for anyone else.

"Nice one," Still, Robby praised as they walked back to their corner, their eyes meeting as sweat dripped down Axel's forehead.

Axel glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "They’re slow. Predictable. It was nothing."

Really?

"Yeah, no kidding." Robby wiped his face with a towel, his irritation simmering.

He didn’t need Axel to babysit him in the ring, but every time he got close to an opponent, Axel was there, cutting him off like he was protecting him or something. It didn’t make sense.

The next match was called, and the next two opponents walked onto the mat. Robby and Axel met them in the middle. The first one to attack was bigger and more confident. He circled Axel, looking for an opening, but Axel didn’t give him one. He lunged forward, his leg sweeping out in a low kick that caught the guy’s ankle and sent him crashing to the ground.

At the same time, Robby stepped up, his pulse quickening. This was his chance. Across the mat, his opponent cracked his knuckles, a cocky grin plastered across his face. Robby circled him, waiting for an opening. The guy lunged, and Robby sidestepped, his fist already moving—

A shadow darted in. Axel’s foot slammed into the guy’s side, sending him sprawling. The crowd roared, the judge announcing their victory again, but Robby’s jaw tightened. Okay, that was enough.

"Seriously?" Robby snapped, turning to Axel. "I had him."

Axel shrugged, “I’m just doing my job.”

“Your job?” Robby shot back. What did that even mean? “We’re supposed to be a team, remember?”

"I know," Axel said, his shoulders tense. “But I’m not taking any chances.”

Wait, what?

Robby opened his mouth to argue, but the next match was announced, and their opponents had already stepped into the ring.

"Just let me get one." He sighed and didn't wait for an answer, walking to meet the two guys approaching the center. Axel's steps right behind him reached his ears, but he focused on their opponents.

The guy in front of Robby lunged first, a telegraphed punch that left his ribs wide open. Robby slipped sideways, his fist snapping out in a counter that landed clean. The guy staggered, and Robby pressed the advantage.

Across the mat, Axel’s fight was already a blur. His opponent barely got a hit in before Axel disarmed him with brutal efficiency, the crowd roaring at every move. Robby tuned it out. His focus narrowed to his own fight, his own rhythm. This was his moment. He’d been waiting for it all day, and now he was finally going to take someone down on his own.

The guy swung again, a wild hook that Robby ducked under. He spun, landing a kick to the guy’s thigh that made him stumble. Robby moved in, ready to finish—until a hard blow caught his shoulder, sending him reeling.

He gritted his teeth, shaking it off. His opponent smirked, but Robby was already moving. He feinted left, then drove a knee into the guy’s stomach, who doubled over, and Robby raised his fist for the final blow.

Then, out of nowhere, Axel was there.

His foot connected with the guy’s side, sending him sprawling across the mat like a ragdoll. The crowd erupted, and the judge announced their victory and a pause before the next matches, but Robby just stood there, frozen, and then it all came down to him. What the fuck?!

He looked at Axel, whose eyes flicked to him, something like guilt crossing them before he turned and walked back to their corner without a word. Robby stared at his back, his blood boiling. No, Axel wasn't going to leave like that after fucking him up. Not again.

He stormed over to Axel, his voice low and tight, each word spoken with barely contained fury. “What the hell was that?”

Axel didn’t look at him, just adjusted his clothes with deliberate slowness, “I told you. I’m not taking any chances.”

“Chances with what?!” Robby snapped, stepping closer until they were nearly chest-to-chest. “I had him! I was fine!”

Axel finally turned, his gaze piercing, cutting through Robby like a blade. “You got hit.” He said it flatly as if that single fact explained everything.

“So what? It’s a fight! People get hit!” Robby gestured angrily, his voice rising despite his efforts to keep it in check. "I don’t need you swooping in like some damn bodyguard every time I’m the one getting hit."

Axel’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening, but he didn’t respond. His silence only fueled Robby’s anger.

"Look, you don’t need to do any of this." He took a deep breath, his frustration bubbling up like a pot ready to boil over. "I can handle myself."

Axel’s eyes flickered, something unspoken passing between them, something deeper that Robby couldn’t quite grasp. "I know."

"Do you?" Robby shot back, his tone sharper than he intended, "Because it feels like you don’t. It feels like you’re still trying to make up for something, and I’m tired of it."

Something both knew what it was, but as mad as Robby was, he couldn't say it out loud.

The silence stretched between them, the sound of the tournament around them muffled, distant. Axel looked away, his shoulders stiff. For a moment, it seemed like he might shout back at Robby, but then he just muttered, "I just... don’t want to see you get hurt again."

Robby froze, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut, deflating his anger. He opened his mouth to respond, but the look on Axel’s face—vulnerable, almost pained—stopped him cold. What could he even say to that? Because he… got it. More than anyone, he did.

He glanced at Miguel waiting for him. After their last real fight, he struggled to accept seeing Miguel fighting others and consequently getting hurt. The way he screamed that day… God, the sound echoed in his mind every single time, haunting him.

"I get it, Axel. I really do." Robby gave him a small smile, "But if we're gonna do this together, you gotta trust me to fight by myself. It's all I ask, and tomorrow we can even train together for the next matches." he offered, hoping this would make Axel understand what he did with Miguel.

That treating someone like they were fragile because you hurt them wasn't the answer. He knew that. He tried. And honestly, fighting together was much more fun.

Many emotions crossed Axel's face at once, but before he could say anything, the judge announced their names for the next duo match.

Robby exhaled, looking up at Axel, "Deal?

Axel glanced away for a moment before nodding.

Yes!

Robby grinned, and they stepped onto the mat together. This time, things felt different.

Their opponents were two guys his height but quick, according to what he remembered of their past matches. Axel clearly hesitated, his eyes narrowing, but he stepped back and focused on his own opponent.

Finally.

The guy had a cocky grin that made Robby’s blood boil, perfect for his first real match. And he didn’t waste any time. He darted forward, his fist connecting with the guy’s stomach. The guy doubled over, and Robby followed up with a quick blow that sent him stumbling back.

His opponent came at him again, this time with a low kick aimed at his legs. Robby sidestepped, his reflexes sharp, but the guy followed up with a quick jab that caught him in the ribs. The impact stung, and Robby grunted, his body instinctively curling to protect the tender spot.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Axel shift forward, his fists tightening like he was about to step in. But then Axel stopped, his gaze locked on Robby's, and after a beat, he continued his fight.

Adrenaline filled him, and he refocused on his opponent. The guy grinned, thinking he had the upper hand, but Robby wasn’t done. He straightened up, and the next time the guy swung, Robby was ready. He ducked under the punch and drove his own fist into his gut, the force of it making the guy stagger.

The crowd cheered. Robby twisted, his leg snapping out in a high kick that caught the guy in the side of the head. His opponent wobbled, his knees buckling, and Robby finished it with a clean strike to the jaw. The guy hit the mat hard, the judge’s whistle cutting through the noise as Robby’s victory was called.

Breathing heavily, Robby looked at Axel, who stood a few feet away, and for the first time, he had a small smile on his lips. Robby gave him a slight nod, acknowledging the trust Axel had shown by staying back. Axel returned the nod.

The match was over, and Robby had handled it himself. No interference, no hovering. Just him. And it felt good.

The gym was quiet, with only the rhythmic thud of footsteps and sharp exhales. Robby wiped the sweat from his brow and adjusted his stance as Axel faced him across the mat. The air between them was different now, charged but not tense as they’d finally found a rhythm.

Robby could see through Axel, though, and he wasn't happy with what he was seeing.

“You’re pulling your punches,” Robby said, circling him. He jabbed forward, testing Axel’s defenses. “Don’t hold back on me.”

Axel blocked the strike, “I’m not.”

“Bullshit. I can feel it.” Robby feinted left, then aimed a kick at Axel’s side. Axel dodged, but Robby pressed the advantage, landing a quick strike to his ribs. “See? You’re too slow.”

Axel grunted, his expression tightening. “Maybe you’re just faster.”

Oh, he knew he was fast, but not that fast.

“Or maybe you’re overthinking it,” Robby shot back, stepping back to reset.

Axel didn’t respond, but his next move was sharper, more aggressive. He lunged, his fist aiming for Robby’s shoulder. He twisted out of the way, his own leg sweeping out in a low kick that forced Axel to jump back. They traded blows, the pace quickening, the sound of their strikes echoing. Robby could feel the heat of Axel’s frustration, the way he held back even as he pushed forward.

“Why do you do this?” Robby asked during a brief pause, breathing heavily.

Axel wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Do what?”

“This.” Robby gestured between them. “You’re holding back like you’re scared to hit me. We already talked about this."

Axel’s gaze flicked away for a moment. “I’m not scared.”

“Prove it.” Robby stepped closer, his tone challenging. “I’m not some fragile thing that’s gonna break if you go all out. I can take it.”

Axel’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Fine.”

Their next exchange was more intense, Axel’s movements sharper, his strikes landing harder. Robby felt the impact, the sting of Axel’s fist grazing his shoulder, the force of a kick that nearly knocked him off balance.

But it was good. It was real. It meant the other boy saw him as an equal.

“Better,” Robby said with a grin, blocking another strike. “See? You’re not gonna break me.”

Axel exhaled, “I’m starting to see that.”

The next strike came faster than Robby expected. Axel’s fist shot toward his ribs, and Robby barely twisted in time to deflect it. The force of the blow still caught him off guard, sending a sharp jolt through his side. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He stepped back, circling Axel, his eyes locked on the subtle shifts in his stance.

Axel lunged again, this time aiming a kick at Robby’s leg, who sidestepped, countering with a quick jab to Axel’s shoulder. It landed, but Axel barely flinched.

Yeah, that was how he remembered most of their fights.

Robby pressed the attack, blows flying in a rapid combination. Axel blocked most of them, but a few slipped through, each one a little harder, a little faster than before. The gym echoed with the sound of their strikes and the rhythm of their footwork.

"Come on," Robby said, his voice tight with effort as he dodged a high kick. "I know you can go harder than that."

Axel’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Robby thought he saw a flicker of frustration. Then Axel’s next move came like a whip crack—his fist driving straight for Robby’s chest. Robby barely managed to block it, the impact reverberating through his arms.

"Better," Robby said, his breathing heavy but steady. He didn’t give Axel a chance to reset, stepping in with a low kick aimed at his thigh. Axel twisted out of the way, but Robby followed up with a spinning back fist that grazed his jaw. Axel staggered back a step, his hand brushing the spot where Robby’s fist had connected. For a moment, he just stood there, his chest rising and falling as he studied Robby.

Then, a hint of a smirk pulled his lips. "Not bad," Axel said with a note of approval.

"Thanks," Robby grinned and suggested. "Done for the day?"

Axel nodded, and they walked out of the mat, side by side. Robby was starting to find Axel's height less intimidating.

He wiped the sweat from his face with a towel, his chest still rising and falling from the intensity of their sparring. Axel disappeared from his sight for a moment, then returned with a plastic bag in hand. He unzipped it, revealing a small feast of sandwiches and juices, the labels all different: turkey, ham, veggie, orange, apple, and cranberry.

“I didn’t know what you liked,” Axel started, holding the bag out like an offering. “So I got a bunch of options.”

Robby blinked, caught off guard. “You didn’t have to do that.”

That was… nice.

Axel's expression was unreadable. “Isn’t that what people who train together do?"

Robby hesitated, then reached for a turkey sandwich and an orange juice. “I guess. Thanks.”

Axel nodded, grabbing a ham sandwich for himself. He leaned against the wall, unwrapping it with quiet efficiency. Robby mirrored him. The silence between them was comfortable in a way he never could have thought would be a few days ago.

Robby took a bite, the bread soft and the turkey fresh, and glanced at Axel. “You didn’t have to go all out, though." Curiosity gnawed at him. "Is that how your training used to go in the Iron Dragons?"

It had been a year, but he still remembered how good Axel's past dojo had been—not better than Cobra Kai in the end, though—and he had a few questions. Were Axel and his old teammates actually friends, or was it just the kind of camaraderie of a dojo? How did they train together? And what about their Sensei? Were they as relentless as Kreese or as calculating as Silver, or did they have a different approach outside the tournament ring? Robby took another bite of his sandwich, the questions piling up faster than he could voice them.

Axel chewed thoughtfully, fixed on the mat. “No. I wasn't allowed to eat with them."

Wait, what?

Robby raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Axel shrugged, “Sensei Wolf ordered so." He answered as if that was all the justification needed.

Robby studied him for a moment, the way Axel avoided his eyes, the way his fingers tightened around the sandwich wrapper. There was more to it, but he didn’t push. Instead, he took another bite, the flavors welcoming. “Well, this is nice.”

Axel nodded, his expression softening just a fraction. “Good.”

Robby stepped closer, raising his hand to clap Axel on the shoulder. But before his hand could land, Axel flinched, his body tensing like he was bracing for impact. His head snapped toward Robby, his eyes wide and alert as if he was seeing a threat, but then a glimpse of something else came—recognition, maybe, followed by a flash of shame.

Robby froze, his hand still hovering in the air. "Hey," he said softly, "You okay?"

Axel’s jaw tightened, and his gaze dropped to the floor. He nodded once, quick and stiff, but it felt more like a reflex than an answer. “Yeah. I’m fine." He moved toward the door, grabbing his bag off the bench. "I’m gonna go.”

The words came out clipped, and Axel’s shoulders hunched like he was shrinking into himself. Something wasn’t right, and he couldn’t just let him walk out like that.

“Wait,” Robby called, taking a step forward. Axel paused, one hand on the doorframe, but he didn’t turn around. Robby hesitated, searching for the right words. “You wanna grab something to eat? Tonight, I mean.”

Axel turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at Robby over his shoulder. There was a long pause, the silence stretching between them. For a second, Robby thought he might say no, might just walk out and disappear. But then Axel gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, almost a murmur. “Okay.”

Robby smiled, “Great. Meet me at the red restaurant a few streets away at seven?”

“Seven.” Axel agreed.

Axel didn't meet him up at seven.

Actually, he was twenty minutes late, and as Robby leaned back in his chair, a soda can cool against his palm, he wondered if he would even show up. His eyes flicked toward the entrance for the hundredth time, but Axel still wasn’t there. The restaurant buzzed with chatter, competitors scattered around tables, some laughing, others eating in quiet focus. He recognized a few faces—guys he’d fought, guys he’d beaten, guys Axel had beaten.

And still, nothing of his duo.

Robby didn't expect to feel a wave of sadness at that. He shouldn't be sad. Training together was something, they were partners for now after all, but dinner together? Axel still had been responsible for one of the worst moments of his life, and he might have asked the wrong question in the training. Robby sighed, setting the can on the table.

Yeah, he might have taken it too far.

He glanced at the entrance again, watching a woman and a man walk inside, his heart clenching as he considered the possibility of Axel not coming when—

“Waiting for someone?” A shadow fell over his table, and Robby looked up, startled.

A guy stood there, a soda can in his hand, the same brand as Robby’s. He frowned, recognizing him as the tall guy Axel had taken down before he did. He had a smirk plastered across his face, like he was already winning before the conversation even started.

“Yeah. What’s it to you?” Robby said, but he was not in the mood for whatever this was.

Marcus shrugged, “Just curious. Girlfriend? Or maybe that guard dog of yours? What’s his name—Axel?”

The mention of Axel made Robby’s jaw tighten. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “He’s not my guard dog. And what is your problem?"

Marcus tilted his head, his smirk widening. “No problem. Just making conversation. You know, you’re lucky he stepped in when he did. That match could’ve gone either way.”

Robby raised his eyebrows. “Yeah? Let me know when you’re ready for a rematch. I’ll make sure it goes my way again.”

Marcus’ smirk didn’t falter. “Confident. I like that. But don’t rely too much on your little bodyguard." He leaned forward, raising his eyebrows. "He won’t always be around to save you.”

Robby clenched his teeth, “I don’t need saving. And Axel’s not my bodyguard. He’s—“ He paused at the instinct of saying 'friend'.

Where did that come from?

“Here?" Marcus interrupted, tilting his head to look beyond him.

Robby couldn't help it, his head whipped back as he searched for Axel's great figure and found— nothing.

A laughter reached his ears, and he sighed, facing Marcus again, “Guess he’s not coming.”

“I don’t need him here to handle you.” Robby leaned back in his chair, his expression calm, though his fingers tightened around the soda can.

It was warmer now. Strangely.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning into a full grin. “Handle me? That’s cute. You’re just a kid who got lucky in the ring. Without your shadow, you’re nothing.”

Robby took a sip of his soda, keeping his gaze steady. “Funny, I don’t remember seeing you on the finals list. Oh, wait—" It was his turn to smirk, "That’s because you didn’t make it.”

Marcus’ expression darkened, but he seemed to force a laugh. “Keep running your mouth. Sooner or later, you’re going to find out what happens when you bite off more than you can chew.”

Robby shrugged, his tone casual. “I’m not worried. When you’re ready to stop hiding behind your words, let me know. Until then, you’re just noise.”

Marcus’ smirk faded completely, his eyes hardening. He took a step closer, his voice low. “You’re going to regret this.”

Robby met his gaze without flinching. “Doubt it.”

For a moment, it looked like Marcus might say something more, but he just shook his head and turned away, muttering under his breath, “I’ll see you around.”

Robby watched him go, his grip on the soda can finally loosening. He let out a slow breath. Marcus’ words hadn’t gotten to him—he’d dealt with worse—but the lingering tension in the air was hard to ignore. He glanced at the entrance one more time, a small frown forming on his face when his vision blurred.

What the hell?

Robby’s head swam, the room tilting as if the floor had turned to water. He blinked hard, but the blur in his vision didn’t clear—it only got worse. His thoughts felt slow and sluggish, like his mind was wrapped in thick cotton. He tried to focus, to piece together what was happening, but everything was slipping away.

He tried to get up, but his legs gave out first, the strength draining from them without warning. He fell back into the chair, his body heavy, unresponsive. Panic agitated in the corners of his mind, but even that felt distant, muted.

What was happening? He hadn’t drunk anything but soda. It wasn't like back in Barcelona. He hadn’t—

“You’re alright,” a voice said, too calm, too close.

Robby’s head lolled to the side, and he saw Marcus standing there. An arm slid under his shoulders, hauling him to his feet. Robby’s knees buckled immediately, but Marcus held him up, his grip firm.

No, no, no. Not again. Not like with Zara.

“Get… off me,” Robby slurred, the words thick on his tongue. He tried to push Marcus away, but his arms wouldn’t obey. His hands twitched weakly at his sides, useless.

Marcus tightened his hold, pulling Robby closer. “Relax,” he said smoothly. “You’re just tired. Let’s get you somewhere you can rest.”

Robby’s stomach turned, a cold dread settling in his chest. He didn’t believe him, couldn’t believe him, but his body wasn’t his own. His head slumped forward, his vision narrowing to a tunnel of blurry shapes and dim light. The world spun, and he was forced to lean into Marcus, his legs dragging as they moved.

They started walking, and he thought he heard a waitress asking if he was okay, but when he tried to respond, his tongue was stuck to his mouth, and Marcus said something about taking a friend back to the hotel.

Not his friend, Robby tried to speak up, but again, he couldn't. He had to let Marcus drag him out of the restaurant and take him to the alleys close to the hotel with the few awareness he still had.

And he wanted to panic. To scream. To fight. Anything to stop it, but he… he couldn't do anything. Like with Zara. His stomach twisted at the few memories he had of that night, and before he knew it, he was leaning forward to throw up.

"You motherfucker!" Marcus screamed, too loud.

Robby's cheek burned, and he fell on his knees and hands next to his vomit. Did he just… slap him?

His vision blurred as his head pounded, the world spinning with every shallow breath he managed to take. His knees dug into the cold concrete of the alley, his hands trembling as he tried to steady himself on it. Marcus’ voice rang in his ears, sharp and angry, but it was drowned out by a sudden, brutal crash.

A blur moved past him, fast and furious. Robby barely registered the sound of fists connecting with flesh and the sharp grunts of pain that followed. He blinked, trying to focus, but his body was like lead.

When he finally managed to lift his head, he saw it—Axel. Axel was there.

His fist connected with Marcus’ jaw, the crack of bone grinding against bone echoing in the narrow alley. Marcus crumpled to the ground, blood seeping from his nose and split lip, but Axel wasn’t done. He grabbed Marcus by the collar, hauling him upright only to slam him back against the brick wall. The force of it made Robby wince, even in his dazed state.

But Axel didn’t stop. He didn’t hesitate. Each strike was deliberate, each impact echoing with a sickening crunch. Marcus tried to defend himself, but he was no match. He stumbled and fell, but Axel was on him again, dragging him up, beating him until Marcus’ cries of pain turned into gurgling whimpers.

Robby’s stomach churned, not just from the drugs but from the sight of it. The violence was raw, uncontrolled, a side of Axel he’d never seen before. Not even when he broke his knee. This wasn’t the disciplined fighter from the mat—it was something else entirely.

Something darker.

Blood splattered around, and Robby knew it. Axel was gonna kill this guy.

"Stop…" It took all Robby had to say it, to mutter it. "Axel… please."

The word hung in the air, and Robby wasn’t sure if he’d been heard. But then Axel froze mid-swing, his fist hovering in the air, Marcus's bloody face inches from it. He turned his head slightly, his eyes locking onto Robby’s. For a moment, he looked wild, almost feral, but then his expression softened, and he dropped Marcus like a sack of bricks.

The guy hit the ground with a thud, groaning but no longer moving. Robby watched Axel not spare him a second glance, thunderous steps echoed in the alley as Axel turned and approached Robby. Each step felt impossibly loud, but Robby didn’t flinch. He couldn’t. His body was too heavy, his mind too foggy.

Axel knelt beside him, his hands gentle as he gripped Robby’s shoulders. “You’re alright. I’m here, Robby.”

The words were soft, almost soothing, and Robby finally let himself close his eyes. The darkness was welcoming, and he believed it.

He was alright with Axel.

Hey, guys! If you enjoyed this, please leave a comment. I'd love to know what you think of this!❤️

Chapter Text

There was blood on Axel's hands.

His own or the guy's, he couldn’t tell anymore, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Robby. He lay limp, his breathing shallow and his face pale. For a moment, Axel considered if—

No , Robby had spoken. He was alive. Trembling fingers brushed against Robby’s throat, feeling his pulse. A sigh of relief left Axel's mouth, but then he noticed he had stained Robby with blood.

“No,” Axel muttered, “No, no, no.” He wiped the blood away with his sleeve, but it only stained more of Robby's skin.

It shouldn’t be there. Robby shouldn’t be like this.

Behind him, the scum groaned, a weak, gurgling sound that made Axel’s jaw tighten. He clenched his fists, the urge to finish what he started clawing at him like a feral thing. The guy deserved worse than what he’d gotten. Much worse.

Finish him, Sensei Wolf's voice whispered from the back of his mind, but Robby’s breathing kept him grounded.

Axel squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the anger down. It wasn’t easy. Every instinct screamed to make this guy pay for what he’d done, for what he’d tried to do. But Robby needed him. He couldn’t let the rage take over, not now. With trembling fingers, he fumbled for his phone, punched in the emergency number, and rattled off the alley’s location, mentioning an injured man. He cut the call short, silencing any questions, then jammed the device back into his pocket.

The guy would live. It didn’t matter if he deserved it or not.

Looking at Robby, he noticed how his chest rose and fell in slow, but he was too still, too quiet. The blood on his neck gleamed in the dim light of the alley, and Axel’s stomach churned. He couldn’t leave him like this. Axel took Robby in his arms, one hand behind his back, the other under his knees. He lifted him carefully, holding him close. Robby’s head lolled against his shoulder, his breathing tickling Axel’s neck.

“I’ve got you,” Axel murmured, knowing Robby probably couldn't hear him but wanting to give him some comfort.

He turned, stepping over the piece of shit without a second glance. The alley stretched ahead, dark and empty, but Axel walked with purpose. Robby needed to be somewhere safe. Somewhere, he could rest. He’d figure out what to do when they got there. For now, he just had to get Robby out of there.

Axel walked through the streets, glancing at Robby from time to time to check on him, and soon they arrived at the hotel. The lobby was too bright, the fluorescent lights glaring down as Axel carried Robby through the entrance, his grip tight and protective. People glanced their way—some curious, others concerned—but Axel ignored them all. He didn’t care what they thought. All that mattered was getting Robby safe.

Shifting Robby’s weight slightly, he shielded him from the stares with his own body.

The elevator ride felt endless, the hum of machinery the only sound, with Axel keeping his eyes fixed on the numbers ticking upward. It was alright. Everything would be alright with Robby. He had told him so, and he would make it happen.

When the doors finally opened, Axel moved quickly down the hallway, fumbling with the keycard before shoving the door open with his shoulder. He kicked it shut behind him, not bothering to lock it, and carried Robby straight to the bed.

Laying Robby down as gently as he could on the bed, the mattress dipped beneath his weight as Axel carefully arranged his limp limbs against the sheets, hands trembling slightly when he put a soft pillow beneath his head. Then he—

He noticed it. The blood again. It was smeared on Robby’s neck, his shirt, and everywhere where he had touched to carry him. And it felt wrong, so wrong.

Axel clenched his jaw and looked down at his hands, red and sticky, and a surge of disgust washed over him. He couldn't be close to Robby like this.

He went to the bathroom, turning the faucet on hard and scrubbing at his hands until the water ran clear. His knuckles were sore but unbroken as he dried his hands on a towel nearby. The blood wasn't his, but from the guy who’d tried to hurt Robby. Axel’s stomach twisted at the thought, imagining for a moment what would have happened if he wasn't there, but he pushed it down.

This wasn't the time.

Back in the bedroom, Axel kneeled to tug off Robby’s sneakers and arrange the pillow beneath his head, his movements as carefully as possible. The blanket he pulled up to Robby’s shoulders felt flimsy, but it was all he had for now. He was tucking it in when the sound of ringing broke the silence.

Axel froze, glancing at his own device before realizing it didn't come from it. Shit. He reached into Robby’s pocket, pulling out the phone. The screen lit up with a name— Miguel .

Robby's actual friend. The one he probably would want here with him.

Axel looked between the screen and Robby's place face for a moment, his thumb hovering over the answer button. Jealousy infiltrated his heart, tempting him to turn it off and be the person who would help Robby. He should be. It was only right. But in the end, he just sighed because the fact was, Robby needed Diaz after what happened.

And he couldn't take that from him. So he swiped to answer and pressed the phone closer to his ear.

"Hey, dude, how's your dinner going? Do I already need to come over and kick Axel's ass again?" Diaz snorted. The excitement in his voice could have been for Robby—or maybe just the thought of kicking Axel's ass.

It was hard to tell.

Axel hesitated, unsure how to respond. "It's Axel," he finally said, his voice flat.

The line went silent for a few seconds.

"Where's Robby?" Diaz’s tone shifted, any trace of warmth replaced by icy suspicion. "And why the hell are you answering his phone?"

Axel glanced at Robby, still unconscious on the bed. The events of the night, what had happened and what could have happened, weren’t his to explain, not like this. Not over the phone.

"Something happened with Robby. I had to bring him to my room," Axel said, keeping it vague but honest.

"Your room? What the fuck…" Diaz muttered under his breath, the sound of rustling and movement crackling through the line. "What’s the room number?"

"217," Axel answered without hesitation.

A part of him bristled at the idea of Diaz barging into his space, but this wasn’t about him anymore. Robby needed someone, and as much as Axel hated to admit it, that someone might not be him.

"I’m on my way. And if you did anything to Robby, I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill you," Diaz spat.

Axel believed him. This was the same guy who’d kicked his ass, and he’d hit like a freight train. If Diaz thought Axel had hurt Robby—like he had with the knee incident—well, Axel wasn’t in the mood for that kind of fight tonight.

"I didn’t—" Axel started, but the line went dead before he could finish.

He stared at the phone for a few moments, then set it back in Robby's pocket. That definitely meant Diaz would be here soon, so he could only wait. Sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on Robby. Even unconscious, his face held a quiet strength, the same face he’d seen across the mat twice now when they’d fought.

But here, now, he looked smaller, fragile, as he had in that alley. The memory burned in Axel’s chest. If he’d been a minute later—

The door rattled with sudden, violent bangs.

“Open up, Axel!” Diaz practically screamed.

Axel’s head snapped toward the sound and he left the bedroom, crossing the room to the door. He hesitated for a second, then yanked it open.

Diaz was there, wearing a hoodie and looking downright furious. His eyes burned beyond Axel.

“What the hell happened?” Diaz pushed past him, his shoulder bumping Axel’s as he rushed inside, going straight to the bedroom. Axel closed the door and followed him, arriving to see his hand hovering over Robby, not daring to touch him, his face a mix of panic and rage. “What did you do to him? Why does he seem drunk? Robby doesn't drink!”

Axel clenched his jaw, watching Diaz hover over Robby. He wanted to explain, but the words wouldn’t come easy. Not with the way Diaz was looking at him—like he was the enemy.

Again.

“I didn’t do this,” Axel said, each word measured as if he were holding back a storm. “I think some bastard drugged him at dinner. I got him out of there.”

“Drugged him? Who?” Diaz whipped around, eyes narrowing. “And where the hell were you when that happened?”

Guilt washed over Axel like a tidal wave, drowning him in what-ifs. If he hadn’t taken so long to pick a shirt, if he hadn’t been torn between going or not, if he’d just been there sooner… Maybe none of this would’ve happened. Maybe Robby would still be safe, untouched by that guy.

“I think it was another competitor. I don’t remember his name,” Axel's fists tightened at his sides, knuckles white as he admitted. “And I was… late.”

“Late?” Diaz scoffed, taking a step closer, his voice dripping with venom. He gestured wildly at Robby, “So the guy who did this only had the chance because you were fucking late?”

Axel closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of Diaz’s weighing down on him. The short answer was… yes. He couldn’t be sure, but maybe if he’d been there, that guy wouldn’t have dared to do anything to Robby. And now he’d have to live with that.

He opened his eyes and swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay practical. “When I arrived at the restaurant, I looked for Robby, and a waitress told me he seemed drunk and left with a guy. So I went looking for them and found them in an alley. Robby was throwing up, and the guy hit him, and I…”

Memories hit him hard, too vivid. Watching from afar as the guy dropped Robby to the ground, running toward them when he saw the slap land, the vile things that scum had said about what he’d do to Robby… Axel’s words carried sheer fury when he spoke again, “I couldn’t let it go on.”

Diaz frowned, his anger momentarily overshadowed by curiosity. “And then?”

“That guy is not a problem anymore,” Axel said simply, crossing his arms, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Diaz’s gaze flicked to Axel’s hands, still stained faintly with blood despite the scrubbing. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, they stood there in silence, the tension between them thick enough to choke on.

“You…” For the first time, Diaz hesitated, “You killed him?”

“I wanted to. For what he did and what he would’ve done to Robby, but…” Axel looked at Robby over Diaz’s shoulder, a small, fleeting smile tugging at his lips before it disappeared. “Robby stopped me. I called an ambulance for the guy before leaving.”

It probably wasn’t smart of him to admit any of that to someone who despised him, but he didn’t care. The truth was out now, and he’d deal with the consequences later.

Diaz stared at him like trying to decipher something in Axel’s expression but then shook his head, turning back to Robby. “He should be in a hospital. Why didn’t you take him to one?”

Axel tried to remember the last time he had gone to the hospital when he was hurt. He couldn't. Be it with his parents or with Sensei Wolf, it just never happened. Was it why that wasn't his first choice? Axel’s chest tightened, but he wasn't about to admit that to Diaz, so he reasoned, “I don’t know. I just wanted to get him somewhere safe, and I didn’t think he’d want to wake up in a hospital. He must’ve thrown up whatever that guy gave him anyway.”

“So what? We just let him sleep it off? What if it’s something worse?” Diaz snapped, the fear in his eyes betraying his fury.

His gaze dropped to Robby. He appeared peaceful now, but the memory of him slumped in the alley, helpless and vulnerable, made Axel’s stomach twist. “He’s going to be fine. I’ll stay with him.” He paused, then offered, “You can stay too if you don’t trust me.”

“Of course, I’m gonna stay. But if anything changes or he doesn’t wake up well tomorrow morning, we’re taking him to the hospital,” Diaz said, crossing his arms, his glare softening slightly as he looked back at Robby.

Axel nodded.

“And you better be telling the truth. If I find out you had anything to do with this…”

“You’ll kill me. Got it,” Axel cut in, his tone flat.

He didn’t have the energy to argue. All he could think about was making sure Robby was safe.

Diaz’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the dried blood on Robby’s throat. "What the hell is that?" He yanked the blanket back, exposing more smears of blood on Robby’s shirt, and shot Axel a look.

"I carried him here, and my hands…" Axel shrugged, not needing to say more for Diaz to sigh.

"Well, we need to clean him up," Diaz said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You got a shirt he can borrow?"

Axel nodded, turning and heading to the dresser. He grabbed a clean shirt and returned to the bed where Diaz was already struggling to pull Robby’s shirt off. The fabric clung to Robby’s limp frame, and Diaz’s frustration was evident as he tugged.

"A little help?"

Axel placed the fresh shirt on the bed, then moved to Robby’s side. He slid an arm under his shoulders, lifting him into a sitting position. His forehead rested against Axel’s shoulder, his breathing soft and even, and the warmth of his body seeping through his skin. Axel realized he was enjoying too much of that sensation when Diaz finally managed to pull the bloodied shirt free, tossing it aside with a grimace.

He blinked a few times to focus as Diaz grabbed the clean shirt Axel had brought, and with a shared nod, together they maneuvered Robby’s arms through the sleeves, careful not to jostle him too much. Once they had it on, Axel lowered Robby back onto the bed and smoothed the oversized shirt the best he could.

Diaz stepped back, crossing his arms. "Not exactly a perfect fit, is it?" he hummed, but there was no real bite to his words.

Axel nodded. The oversized shirt hung loose on Robby’s frame, the fabric swallowing him whole and making him look smaller and more vulnerable, and Axel felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite name. Guilt? Protectiveness? He wasn’t sure. But yeah, definitely not perfect.

He glanced at Robby’s jeans, the fabric dark and slightly wrinkled with blood stains on it. “Should we take his pants off too?”

Diaz’s head snapped up, “No, absolutely not! God, Robby wouldn’t like waking up like that again.”

Axel frowned, caught off guard by the sharpness in Diaz’s tone. “Like that again?” he echoed, tinged with confusion and a flicker of concern.

What did that mean? His mind raced, piecing together the fragments of Diaz’s words. Could Robby have been drugged before? The thought sent a chill down his spine, to think that could have happened without him there to stop whoever did it.

“Just… leave it." Diaz looked away, cursing under his breath as if he’d said too much. "The pants stay.”

“Alright. They stay.” Axel didn’t press. He didn’t need to know the details, not now, and mainly from someone other than Robby himself.

Diaz’s gaze shifted to the bed, his expression softening as he took in the bloodstains on the sheets and blanket. “What about this? The blood’s all over the place. You’re just gonna let him sleep like that?”

Axel shrugged, “It’s fine. I’ll deal with it later.”

He was used to cleaning his own blood, so it shouldn't be hard to clean from someone else's.

"Whatever. It's your stuff," Diaz said and walked to the bathroom.

Axel didn’t care to look at him, too focused on taking in every detail of Robby to make sure he was okay. The rise and fall of his chest, the faint flutter of his eyelids, the way his fingers twitched slightly against the blanket—Axel cataloged it all.

Diaz was soon back with a small, wet towel that he used to clean the blood on Robby’s throat. Axel watched his slow, careful moves, suppressing the ugly feeling that wished he had been the one to do so. He didn't understand all the ways Robby made him feel.

When Diaz was done, he sighed, "I’ll wash it. I won’t take too long, so just… stay there and don’t get close to him."

Axel let out a breath through his nose but nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak, not with the tension coiled so tightly in his chest. Diaz disappeared into the bathroom again while he shifted from one foot to the other. The urge to reach out, to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, or to check his pulse again was almost overwhelming, but he clenched his fists and stayed put.

When Diaz returned, he gave him a look, then pulled a chair up to the side of the bed and sat down heavily, grabbing his phone and typing. Axel got the message and sat on the other chair, on the opposite side. The silence was heavy. Neither of them trusted each other, but he wasn’t about to kick Diaz out. Not when Robby needed someone.

Not when Axel wasn’t sure he was enough.

The room was quiet except for the soft rhythm of Robby’s breathing. Axel sat in the chair, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on the unconscious boy's face. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been sitting there, but the tension between him and Diaz hadn’t eased. Every now and then, Diaz would glance up from his phone, his eyes darting between Axel and Robby, but neither of them spoke.

Diaz was the one to break the silence, "Dude, stop doing that. It’s creepy.”

Axel blinked, tearing his gaze away from Robby to Diaz, “What?”

“You’re staring at Robby. Hard.” Diaz huffed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, “Like, seriously, it’s weird. You’ve been doing it for, like, an hour.”

“I’m not staring,” Axel replied defensively and shifted in his seat, the chair creaking under his weight, and cleared his throat. “I’m… keeping an eye on him. That’s all.”

Diaz rolled his eyes, “Well, you’re making me uncomfortable, and I’m pretty sure if Robby were awake, he’d be weirded out, too.”

Axel didn’t respond. He turned his attention back to Robby, knowing that was probably true. Yet, he wasn’t staring—not in the way Diaz thought. He was watching, waiting for any sign that Robby might wake up, that he might need something, just… anything.

“Look, I get it. You’re worried." Diaz sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But he’s fine. He’s just sleeping.”

Leaning back in the chair, Axel's fingers drummed against the armrest, but he didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say. He couldn’t explain why he felt the need to watch so closely, but the thought of something happening to Robby while he wasn’t paying attention, as unlikely as that was, made his chest tighten.

Diaz let out a frustrated chuckle, “You know, you’re not exactly the most talkative guy, are you?”

People had told him that before. But these days with Robby… well, he had been talking more than usual.

Axel glanced at him, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve, “Not much to say.”

“Right.” Diaz snorted, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow. “You’re just the guy who shows up out of nowhere, saves Robby from some creep, and then sits here like a statue. Totally normal.”

He didn’t rise to the bait. He wasn’t here to explain himself to Diaz. He wasn’t here to make friends. He was here for Robby and him only.

The silence stretched between them, even heavier and more uncomfortable. Diaz eventually gave up, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “Whatever, man. Just… stop staring."

And what was he supposed to do if not that? Show him why he should still be afraid of you , Sensei Wolf's voice returned alongside his annoyance. But he didn't want that. To be feared. Not by the people who shouldn't have to fear him.

Axel exhaled and stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. “I’m going to get some water." He didn’t wait for Diaz to respond; he just turned and headed out of the bedroom to the kitchen.

He grabbed two cold water bottles from the fridge, his hands trembling slightly as he opened one and took a big sip. The icy water went down his throat, but it did little to silence what he wanted to silence and quell the restless energy that had been driving him tonight.

Just do what you can. Robby will be okay, he repeated to himself, leaving his bottle in the fridge but taking the other with him. When he got back to the bedroom, Diaz was still sitting in the chair, typing on his phone.

Axel wondered what he typing and to who. Sitting the bottle on the nightstand next to his chair, he moved to sit again but then—

Robby grunted.

His body froze as he watched Robby frown and turn to the side. A strand of his hair fell on his forehead. Before he knew it, Axel was reaching out and brushing it off. He immediately noticed how Robby's skin was warm, but his breathing was steady. That had to be a good sign, right?

Diaz cleared his throat. Heat crept up his neck, and Axel swiftly withdrew his hand, feeling like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He sat back down in the chair, his eyes on the floor this time.

“You’re really not good at this, are you?” Diaz said, his tone softer now.

"No."

He knew he wasn’t good at this—at any of it. Sensei Wolf made sure of that.

Diaz’s phone buzzed, breaking the silence. He glanced at the screen, then stood up, stretching. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom." He stepped forward, but his eyes narrowed as he studied Axel. “You’re not gonna, like, do anything weird while I’m gone, are you?”

Axel met his gaze, his expression flat. “I didn't do it last time, did I? So no."

Diaz held his stare for a moment longer, then shrugged. “Okay. Just don't do anything weird, really." He left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Axel exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing, even if just a bit. Returning to his previous position, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze fixed on Robby. The room was quiet again, but this time, it felt good.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, a promise he didn't intend to break. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Robby’s head felt heavy like it was filled with wet sand.

His eyelids fluttered open, the dim light of the room blurring into shapes he couldn’t quite make out. His throat was dry, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. The softness of the mattress beneath him, the warmth of the blanket—it felt comforting, but something was off.

This wasn’t his hotel room. The walls were the same generic beige, but the layout was different, the furniture arranged in a way that didn’t match his memory. What the fuck?

He tried to move, but his body felt sluggish and uncooperative, and his head throbbed faintly, a dull ache that made it hard to focus. Turning his head slightly, he didn't know what he expected to see, but it wasn't Axel and Miguel in the same room without killing each other, one on each side of the bed.

Axel was slumped forward, his head resting between his hands, his elbows propped on the edge of the bed. His breathing was slow and even, his shoulders rising and falling in a steady rhythm. On the other side, Miguel sat with his head tilted awkwardly against his own shoulder, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. His face was relaxed in sleep, but the position looked anything but comfortable.

Robby’s brow furrowed as he tried to piece together how he’d ended up here. The last thing he remembered was… what? The restaurant? The alley? His stomach churned at the fragmented memories, a wave of nausea rising in his throat. He swallowed hard, forcing it down.

He wasn't there anymore. He wasn't.

“Axel?” It came out hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again, louder this time. “Axel.”

Axel stirred, his head lifting slowly as he blinked awake. His eyes locked onto Robby’s, and for a moment, he just stared as if he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming. Then he straightened, his expression shifting to one of relief. “You’re awake.”

Robby swallowed again, wincing at the dryness in his throat. “What… what happened?”

Axel leaned forward, “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

Safe?

The word echoed in Robby’s mind, but it didn’t make sense. He tried to piece together the fragments of memory, and it all came back to the same guy. Marcus. His stomach churned again as flashes of his face came back to him, the way he’d leaned in too close, the things he had said, how he had hit him.

“The guy…” Robby started, his voice trembling as he raised his hand to touch his cheek. “He… he gave me something. I think it was in my soda.”

It hurt to even say it. How didn't he see it? It was so clear now that he looked back at it.

Axel’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. “I think so. When I found you, you were barely awake.”

Robby’s chest tightened, panic rising in his throat. “Did he… did he…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, the words catching in his throat.

Not again. God, he couldn't do it again.

“No,” Axel said firmly and held his wrist, cutting through the panic. “He didn’t get the chance. I stopped him.”

He didn't need to specify what exactly he stopped, no , the both of them knew what it was. Robby let out a shaky breath, his body relaxing under Axel's touch as relief washed over him.

It hadn't happened. He wouldn't have to go through all of it once more.

Robby looked at Axel, really looked at him, and noticed the faint smudges of blood on his hands, the way his knuckles were raw and bruised. Fragments of memories hit him—Axel hitting so hard that bones broke, blood splattering on the dirty ground.

“You…" Robby swallowed down, "You hurt him?”

Axel’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yes.”

Robby’s stomach twisted, a mix of relief and guilt swirling inside him. “Is he…?”

“He’s alive,” Axel said, his tone dry. “But he won’t be bothering you again.”

Robby nodded slowly, his mind still foggy. He glanced around the room, realizing this was probably Axel's. A part of him told him he should be afraid, to consider if the boy in front of him hurt him the same way Marcus did, but he simply couldn't. Not after what he had seen Axel do for him.

And maybe he didn't want to know if that was the case, not when he was just starting to trust Axel.

Robby closed his eyes for a moment. The bed was soft beneath him, the blanket warm around him, but he couldn’t shake the unease that clung to him. Probably the drug.

“How long have I been out?” He asked, gently moving his hand out of Axel's grip to run his fingers through his hair.

"A few hours." Axel pulled his hand back, staring at him before answering. His gaze went between him and Miguel, "Diaz was worried. We both were.”

Robby’s chest tightened, but this time, it wasn’t panic. It was something else, something warm and unfamiliar. He looked at Axel, hoping the next two words that left his mouth could muster everything he felt. “Thank you.”

It wouldn't be enough. Nothing would, but he had to at least try to show how badly he was thankful for Axel interfering in something that wasn't even his business.

“You don’t have to thank me.” Axel’s expression didn’t change, but there was one thing about it that made Robby’s heart skip a beat.

He believed it. He actually believed that Robby didn't have to thank him.

"Why not?" He frowned.

"I was late." It seemed like those simple words were ripping through Axel's throat with how painful they seemed for him, "If I wasn't late—"

Oh, hell no.

"Get up," Robby said, looking Axel dead in the eyes.

"What?" Axel leaned back, eyes widened.

For God's sake.

"I said get up." Robby gestured for him to do so, and this time, Axel hesitantly rose to his feet, stiff as wood.

Robby didn’t wait for him to get the wrong impression. He pulled the blanket off his body, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up. The room spun for a moment, his vision blurring, but Axel’s hands were already on his arms, steadying him.

Looking up at the other boy's guilty expression, he didn't hesitate. Robby threw his arms around Axel with sudden ferocity, trembling faintly as he locked his hands behind the taller boy's back. His knuckles whitened against Axel's shirt, cheek pressed so firmly to his chest that he could count every beat beneath the fabric.

Axel’s body went rigid, his hands hovering at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Dude, you can hug me back,” Robby snorted, muffled against Axel’s shirt.

It was like a switch flipped.

Arms locked around him like steel cables, crushing Robby against the sweat-damp cotton of his shirt with unexpected desperation. The pressure stole Robby’s breath—not from pain, but from the dizzying realization of Axel’s grip tightening like he feared gravity might rip them apart. Calloused palms slid up his spine, and the taller boy pressed his face into Robby’s hair with a shuddering exhale.

The tension in his shoulders eased. It was… nice. More than nice, actually. He hadn’t realized how much he needed this—how much he needed to feel safe, grounded, protected with most of his family away.

Axel’s grip tightened more, and Robby felt like he was being crushed. He let out a strangled laugh, patting Axel’s back. “Axel… I can’t breathe.”

He immediately let go, stepping back with a look of panic on his face. “Sorry,” he muttered, his hands still hovering near Robby’s shoulders like he was afraid he’d fall.

Robby waved him off, grinning despite the lingering dizziness. “It’s fine. Just… don’t break my ribs next time, okay?”

Axel nodded, opening his mouth as if he was about to say something when a sudden thud echoed through the room. Their heads snapped to the side in unison, and there was Miguel, jerking upright with a grimace, his hand already clutching the back of his neck.

“Ow. What the—Robby!” His eyes widened as they landed on Robby, and he was on his feet in an instant, moving with urgency.

Robby barely had time to process what was happening before Miguel was in front of him, shoving Axel aside with a rough “Get your hands off him.” Axel’s expression twisted into mild annoyance, but he didn’t argue, just crossed his arms and took a step back.

Yeah, that was more like it. They might not be killing each other, but this was a toned-down version of it.

“Miguel,” Robby sighed, his voice tinged with exasperation.

Miguel's hands settled on Robby’s shoulders, his grip steady but not too tight, as if he were afraid Robby might collapse if he let go. “How are you feeling?” Concern etched his features.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” Robby admitted, managing a weak smile despite the ache that seemed to radiate through every part of him.

“I bet,” Miguel said, returning the smile with one of his own, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He gave Robby’s shoulder a reassuring pat before his expression turned serious again. “Now, dude, what the hell happened?”

Robby exhaled, the words catching in his throat like a tangled knot. He wasn’t sure where to start—or if he even could start. He glanced at Axel, trying to gather strength from the fact he probably had already said something to Miguel because his friend definitely would have required it.

He swallowed, trying to find the right words, but they stuck like glue in his mouth.

“I…” He started, clearing his throat. “I don’t know, man. I… I messed up. Bad.”

Miguel’s expression softened, and he gave Robby’s shoulder a squeeze. “Hey, it’s okay. Just… start from the beginning.”

Robby closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to breathe. When he opened them again, he focused on the scuff marks on the floor, anything to avoid the intensity in Miguel’s face.

“This guy, Marcus, came to talk to me in the restaurant." Robby began, “I recognized him from the tournament. He provoked me, but I didn't let him get to me.” He trailed off, his stomach twisting. “He had the same soda as me. I didn’t think anything of it. I was just… I don't know.”

Miguel’s grip tightened slightly, but he didn’t say anything, letting Robby continue.

“Next thing I know, I’m feeling dizzy. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t. He… he grabbed me, and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t—” His voice broke, and he shook his head, his eyes stinging. “I thought I was… I thought I was gonna…”

Words failed him. He didn’t have to say it—they all knew what he meant.

Miguel’s face darkened, his jaw tightening. “Robby…”

“Axel showed up,” Robby said quickly, cutting him off. He glanced at Axel, who had an unreadable expression. “If he hadn’t… I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

Miguel’s gaze flicked to Axel, and for a moment, there was a silent exchange between them that Robby couldn’t decipher. Then Miguel turned back to him, his expression softening again.

“You’re safe now,” Miguel said firmly. “That’s what matters.”

Robby almost laughed. That was the same thing Axel said, but he felt… raw, like his skin had been peeled back and everything inside was exposed, as with Zara. But he didn't know how to say that. He didn't even know if he wanted to.

The sound of a notification cut through the heavy silence, sharp and sudden. Miguel pulled his phone from his pocket.

“It’s Tory,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly. "She's at the hotel. She’s freaking out because she couldn’t get ahold of you earlier.”

Robby’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t even thought about his phone, and he had totally forgotten his girlfriend would arrive this morning.

Fuck.

“Did you… did you tell her anything?”

“No," Miguel shook his head, "I figured I’d let you decide what to say.” He hesitated, then added, “What do you want me to tell her?”

Robby ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t want Tory to worry, but he also didn’t want to lie to her. Or worse, tell her the truth and see the way she’d look at him afterward, like with Zara. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Should I at least tell her where you are?” Miguel suggested, and Robby glanced at Axel again before he could stop himself.

For what? He had no idea.

But Axel didn't leave him hanging. “It’s your decision.” He assured him, a flicker of something in his eyes—something Robby couldn’t quite place.

He exhaled sharply under their stares. Yeah, he couldn’t hide from Tory forever, and honestly, he didn’t want to. A part of him just wanted to sink into her embrace and forget everything about last night. And maybe, just maybe, this time, he could tell her what happened, and she’d understand.

Maybe it would be different because it was a guy, not a girl.

“Yeah,” Robby finally said, “Tell her where I am.”

Miguel nodded, a small smile on his lips. “Alright. I’ll head over to the hotel, grab you some clothes, and bring her here.” He hesitated, looking at Axel and then back to Robby. “You okay staying here with him alone?”

Axel didn't seem offended, but Robby knew his answer at immediate. “I’ll be fine.” He said, patting Miguel's forearm.

Miguel shot Axel a suspicious look but didn’t argue either. “Alright. I’ll be back soon.” He gave Robby’s shoulder a quick squeeze before heading for the door, leaving Robby and Axel in the quiet bedroom.

Robby looked down, finally realizing the oversized shirt he was wearing. His fingers tugged at the hem of it. “What am I even wearing?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Not that it wasn't nice, it was, but it was totally not his.

Axel rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It’s mine. Yours was bloody from when I carried you here.”

Oh, shit. Axel had carried him? Like a princess or… Robby blinked, red flushing his cheeks despite himself, but he didn't even want to think about it.

“Uh… thanks.” He managed.

Axel shrugged. “Figured you’d want to change out of it.”

Robby nodded, tugging at the hem of the shirt again. It was soft, smelled faintly of Axel’s cologne, and hung loosely on his frame. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll give it back once I get my clothes.”

Axel grunted in response, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. The silence stretched between them, although not uncomfortable. Robby shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his mind racing with questions he wasn’t sure how to ask—or if he even wanted to.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Robby broke the silence, quiet, almost hesitant.

Axel’s brow furrowed. “Do what?”

“Stop him. Help me.” Robby’s throat tightened, and he looked down at the floor. “You didn’t owe me anything.”

A part of him wished that wasn't the case. That any of this, whatever he and Axel had been doing these last days, was the beginning of an honest friendship and not some guilt-guided actions. But it wasn't it. It couldn't be it.

Axel didn’t respond right away. When Robby glanced up, he was already in front of him, and damn, for a big guy, he moved fast. “I didn’t do it because I owed you.” He said with nothing but sincerity in it.

Robby shook his head. But if that was it, then… “Then why?”

Axel’s gaze locked onto his, “Because it was the right thing to do, and I…" he paused, looking away for a moment before facing him, "I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

The simplicity of his answer caught Robby off guard. Just like that? It was really just like that? He opened his mouth to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat. Instead, he just nodded. Was this how Miguel felt once?

“You should sit down,” Axel cleared his throat, nodding toward the bed. “You still look like you’re about to fall over.”

Robby huffed out a weak laugh but didn’t argue. At least Axel was consistent in his concern. It kind of felt good.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, his legs like jelly. “Yeah, I guess I’m not completely back to normal yet.”

Axel walked over to the nightstand and grabbed a water bottle, handing it to Robby, who held it with fumbling hands. “Drink. You’re probably dehydrated.”

Robby twisted the cap off and took a sip, the cool water soothing his dry throat. He glanced at Axel, who stared at him as if he would disappear if he looked away. That was… considerate.

“Thanks,” Robby said.

Axel just nodded and kept staring. Robby was starting to think he would have to get used to that. Taking another sip of water, his mind spun with everything that had happened—and everything that he hadn't resolved.

“What happens now?” Uncertainty filled his question.

Axel frowned. “That’s up to you.”

Robby's fingers tightened around the water bottle. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Axel said slowly as if he was trying to figure it out as he spoke, “you decide what you want to do next. Whether you want to report it, press charges, or just… move on.”

Robby’s stomach churned at the thought. He hadn’t even considered that yet. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want to do.”

He felt repetitive. Maybe he should know that, right? It happened to him, so he should have figured it out by this time.

Axel nodded like he’d expected that answer. “You don’t have to decide right now. Just… think about it.”

It was that easy? It couldn't be that easy.

Robby sighed, “Yeah. I’ll think about it."

The silence remained until Axel spoke, “Are you hungry? I’ve got some stuff in the kitchen if you want.”

Robby’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food, but he wasn’t sure he could eat just yet. His head was still spinning, his thoughts a tangled mess. Yet, he nodded. “Yeah, food sounds good.”

Axel led the way to the kitchen but hovered over Robby as he leaned against the wall for support. He didn't know if he was indignant or flattered. He could still take care of himself.

They entered the kitchen, which was definitely cleaner than his. The countertops were bare except for a few dishes stacked neatly by the sink. Axel pulled out a chair at the small table and gestured for Robby to sit.

“Sit down before you fall over,” Axel said, not an order, more like an offer.

Robby obliged, sinking into the chair with a sigh. He watched as Axel moved around the kitchen, pulling out bread, eggs, and a few other ingredients. The rhythmic sound of a knife chopping vegetables filled the silence, and Robby focused on it, letting it ground him in the moment.

“You cook?” Robby asked, not expecting that.

Axel shrugged, barely even looking up from the cutting board. “Enough to not starve.”

Yeah, that resumed his cooking skills since he was a kid, too.

Robby huffed a laugh.“Same.”

Axel glanced up at him, a flicker of amusement in his expression before he turned to the stove. The smell of sizzling butter and garlic filled the room, and Robby’s stomach growled again, louder this time.

“You got a preference?” Axel asked, cracking an egg into the pan.

“Uh… not really. Surprise me.”

Axel tossed in some chopped vegetables and stirred them into the eggs. Robby watched him work, the way his hands moved with precision like he’d done this a thousand times. It was oddly calming, watching someone else take control for once.

When the food was ready, Axel slid a plate in front of Robby—scrambled eggs with vegetables, a slice of toast on the side. It smelled amazing, and Robby didn’t realize how hungry he was until he took the first bite.

“This is really good,” Robby said around a mouthful.

Axel shrugged again, leaning against the counter with his own plate. “It’s just eggs.”

“Yeah, but you made them taste good.” Robby snorted and stabbed another forkful. “That’s not easy.”

Axel didn’t respond, but there was a faint upward curve to his lips that Robby didn’t miss. It was almost a smile, and Robby couldn't help the warmth spreading through his chest—

Hard knocks came from the door. Robby froze, the fork halfway to his mouth.

"Miguel," he said, setting the fork down and pushing his chair back. He moved to stand, but Axel’s hand shot out, stopping him with a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Wait," Axel stepped past Robby, his back rigid, and opened the door himself.

But it wasn’t Miguel. Tory stood in the doorway, her chest heaving, wavy blonde strands sticking to her sweat-drenched face like she’d run the entire way here. Her eyes were wild, scanning the room as she clutched her phone like a lifeline.

God, she looked furious and beautiful, and Robby didn’t know what to do with the heat that went down his body.

Hey, guys! Thank you for all the kudos and comments, they motivated me a lot to continue this. So again, if you enjoyed the chapter, please leave a comment. I'd love to know what you think of it!❤️

Chapter Text

Tory glared at Axel, “Where is he—” She cut herself off when her eyes landed on Robby. Her jaw clenched, and she pushed past Axel, marching straight to him like a storm about to break.

Robby stood, his chair scraping back and his stomach twisting. He didn’t know if he wanted to kiss her or bolt out the door.

“Seriously? I’ve been messaging you all night, and you’ve been…” Tory snapped and gestured wildly toward the plates on the table, then jabbed a finger in Axel’s direction. “Eating with him?!”

Guilt corroded him. Yes, that wasn’t the whole story, but still, Tory’s first impression wasn’t wrong either.

Robby’s head snapped toward the door as Miguel stumbled in, his face flushed and hair disheveled. He had a bundle of clothes tucked under one arm and looked like he’d just run a marathon.

“I’m so sorry.” Miguel panted, bracing himself against the doorframe. His eyes flicked between Robby, Tory, and Axel, with a look of pure apology. “I tried to catch up, but she is too fast.”

Axel stayed by the door, arms crossed, silent but tense, as if ready to intervene if things spiraled. Robby could feel the heat of Tory’s anger radiating off her, and he didn’t know where to start.

“Tory, it’s not—” He sighed, not knowing where to begin with. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off, her voice cracking. “Don’t give me some excuse. I thought something happened to you. I thought—” She stopped herself, her sharp inhale loud in the silence.

Axel cleared his throat from the doorway. “He’s been through a lot.”

Tory whipped around to face him, her eyes blazing. “You don’t get to speak to me or him.”

“Tory,” Robby said, finding his voice. “It’s not what you think. Just… let me explain.”

She turned back to him, her expression softening for a split second before hardening again. “You’d better start talking.”

Robby glanced at Miguel, who gave him a small, encouraging smile, then at Axel, who gave him a subtle nod, the kind that said it’s up to you . He swallowed hard, his heart pounding. He could do this.

“Okay. Let’s just go to the bedroom then.”

Tory hesitated, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Then, with a huff, she headed to it.

Robby took a deep breath and followed her. This was it. His chance to not fuck things up again. Tory marched into the bedroom, her shoulders stiff, and turned to face him the moment he shut the door. Robby felt like he was standing in front of a judge, and he hadn’t even started talking yet.

“Well?” Her voice was low and controlled, but he could feel the storm brewing beneath it. “What the hell is going on, Robby?”

He hesitated, his throat dry. Where did he even start? The night was a blur, but one thing was clear—he couldn’t lie to her. Not about this. “I… something happened last night. At the restaurant where I’d meet Axel.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean ‘something happened’?” She stepped closer, searching his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” The words came out automatically, but they felt hollow. “I mean, physically, I’m fine. But… it wasn’t a fight. It was…” He trailed off, his chest tightening.

Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? It hadn’t even gotten to be one, where he would be able to stand his ground and fight back. No, there was none of it. The memory of hands on him, the panic, the helplessness—it all came rushing back, and he had to look away.

Tory’s expression softened again, her anger giving way to concern. “Robby, what happened?”

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet her eyes. “Some guy… he tried to—” His voice cracked, and he had to stop, his fists clenching at his sides. “There was something in my soda, and he— Axel stopped him before anything… before anything really happened. But it was close.”

Tory’s face went pale, her lips parting in shock. For a moment, she just stared at him, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, and his chest hurt at what could be going through his girlfriend’s mind.

Would she get mad at him? He didn’t blame her. He should have been able to take care of himself. And if she wanted to end things…. a knot formed in his throat, the consideration more painful than he could deal with. He was ready for it, though, when, without a word, Tory stepped forward and—

Pulled him into a tight hug?

Her arms wrapped around him, her grip almost painful, but he didn’t care. Robby let out a sigh and buried his face in her shoulder, his body shuddering with the weight of everything he’d been holding in.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words coming trembling out of her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Robby. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t know.”

He didn’t respond at first. He couldn’t. All he could do was cling to her, letting her hold him together when he felt like he was falling apart. Tory’s hug was almost suffocating, but Robby didn’t care. He let himself sink into it, his hands gripping the back of her shirt like she was the only thing keeping him grounded. Her breath was warm against his neck, and he could feel her heart racing through her chest.

Robby shook his head, his face still buried in her shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” he mumbled, muffled. “I just… I didn’t know how to tell you.”

She pulled back slightly, just enough to look at him. Her eyes were red, glossy with unshed tears, and her hands cupped his face like he might break if she let go. “You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready to talk about,” she said softly. “But don’t shut me out, okay? I’m here. I’m here , Robby.”

He nodded, his throat too tight to speak. Her words were a balm, but they also made him feel raw, and exposed. He was used to carrying his own weight, dealing with his own shit, but this… this was different. This wasn’t something he could just push down and pretend didn’t happen, as much as he wanted to.

“I know, I know, I just…” Robby swallowed hard, his throat dry and tight as he forced himself to keep looking at her. “After Zara, I—”

“Zara?!” Tory’s voice shot up.

The sound startled him, and he flinched, his shoulders tensing. He didn’t even give time to see her apologetic expression and closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a shaky breath. He’d expected this reaction; of course, he had. Tory had every right to be angry and to demand answers, but that didn’t make it any easier to face.

Robby clenched his fists, gathering every ounce of courage he had left to continue. “Yeah, I know I fucked up with her—”

“Wait, hold on.” Tory cut him off again, her brow furrowing. “This was nothing like with Zara.”

He dropped his gaze, staring at the floor as if it might swallow him whole. No, it wasn’t the same. He’d been drunk this time, and that was on him. Just like everything his dad did when he was drunk was still his fault, too. But then, why did tonight feel so much like that night with Zara?

The unwanted touches, the dizzying haze, the way his skin crawled like it had been scraped raw, and he couldn't scrub it away no matter how hard he tried. Why did it all feel so damn familiar?

“Robby.” The urgency in Tory’s tone cut through his spiraling thoughts. He faced her, and the haunted expression in her eyes sent a chill down his spine. It was a look he’d never seen on her before, and it terrified him. “Was this like with Zara?”

Robby shook his head, his vision blurring as tears threatened to spill over. “No, she didn’t put anything in my drink, I was just… drunk. Stupidly drunk. I can’t even remember what happened that night, but I know that doesn’t excuse anything.”

He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t to see fury take over Tory’s expression.

“That fucking bitch! I should have knocked every tooth out of her mouth!” Tory clenched her teeth, looking away for a moment as if to calm herself down, then she held his face closer. “Look at me, Robby. What that bitch did to you wasn’t your fault.”

He froze, his heart pounding in his chest. Tory’s words hit him like a brick. Her thumbs brushed over his cheeks, but her expression was fierce, eyes blazing with a fire that wasn’t there even when she fought Zara. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He just stared at her, his breathing shallow.

Then Robby crumbled. “I should’ve stopped it. I should’ve—”

Tory’s hands tightened on his face, her nails digging into his skin just enough to ground him. “You were drunk, Robby. That doesn’t make it your fault.”

But it did. It had to.

He shook his head, his throat raw. “But I—”

“No,” she cut him off, firm but not unkind. “Listen to me. Being drunk doesn’t mean you asked for it. It doesn’t mean you wanted it. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

Robby’s breath hitched, and he looked away, his chest tightening. “I just… I couldn’t stop her. I couldn’t—”

“No, Robby. Listen to me. What Zara did to you wasn’t your fault. It never was. Do you hear me? Never.” Her eyes searched his, desperate for him to believe her. “You were drunk, and she took advantage of that. That’s on her, not you. And what happened last night, that’s not on you either. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her words were like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of his lungs. He wanted to believe her. God, he wanted to. But the guilt, the shame, it was still there, coiled deep in his chest, suffocating. He opened his mouth to argue, to tell her she was wrong, but the look in her eyes stopped him.

It wasn’t pity—it was conviction. She believed what she was saying, and it startled him.

“Tory, I—” He tried, so hard, because it had to be it. “I just… I should’ve known. I should’ve been more careful.”

“Bullshit.” Her hands tightened on his face, forcing him to look at her again. “You’re not the one who should’ve known better. They’re the ones who should’ve kept their hands to themselves. That’s not on you, Robby. Not then, and not now.”

He swallowed hard. Tory’s anger was fierce, but there was something else beneath it, wild and protective. She wasn’t just angry at Zara or the man from last night. She was angry for him. And that… that was something he didn’t know how to handle.

Robby nodded, though the words didn’t fully get through the fog of guilt and shame. He wanted to believe her, but the weight of it all was too much to shake. “I just… I don’t know how to feel about any of this.”

Tory pulled him into another hug, her arms wrapping tightly around him. “You don’t have to figure it out right now,” she murmured into his shoulder. “Just… let me be here for you, okay?”

He nodded again, his face buried in her neck, and let himself lean into her for the first time in what felt like forever.

When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his, her breath mingling with his. “We’ll figure this out,” she whispered. “Together.”

“Together.” Robby closed his eyes and nodded, letting her words sink in. Together. He wasn’t sure he deserved it, but he wasn’t going to argue. Right now, he just needed this—needed her. If he could, he would even stay like this forever. Just him and her.

But then he remembered he had left Axel and Miguel in the same room for too long. Yeah, they definitely couldn’t stay like this forever.

It took everything he had to pull back from Tory, his hands lingering on her shoulders for a moment longer than necessary. “Shit, Axel and Miguel. We left them alone. They’re probably at each other’s throats by now.”

Tory wiped her tears with the back of her hand, a soft snort escaping her. “Well, Miguel told me he spent the night watching over you with Axel, so I wouldn’t worry that much.” She paused, her eyes narrowing as they dropped to the shirt he was wearing. “Speaking of the giant… is that his shirt?”

Robby’s hand instinctively went to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair as heat crept up his neck. “Yeah, he kind of… lent it to me. Mine was all bloody from when he…” He trailed off, the fact he was carried like some damsel in distress making his cheeks burn.

How was he supposed to explain that without sounding pathetic as fuck?

Tory’s brow furrowed, her expression darkening as she misread his hesitation. “When he did what?” she pressed.

Robby swallowed hard, torn between wanting to reassure her and the shame, his gaze dropping to the floor. “He carried me,” he muttered, the words barely audible.

He hated how small it made him feel, how vulnerable. But the truth was, he had been vulnerable—broken and bleeding, unable to do anything but let Axel take charge. It wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on, but he couldn’t lie to Tory, not after everything they’d just shared.

Robby’s face burned as the words tumbled out, and he avoided Tory’s gaze, focusing instead on the wall behind her. The silence between them stretched, until Tory let out a sharp laugh, the sound so abrupt it made him flinch.

“He carried you?” she repeated, tinged with disbelief. “Like… bridal style?”

Robby groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “I think so. Don’t make it worse.”

Tory’s laughter died down, but the smirk on her face was still there, curling at the edges of her mouth like she was trying to suppress it. “I’m not. I’m just trying to picture it. Axel’s what, six-five? And you’re—well, you’re not exactly small, but…” She trailed off, her smirk widening. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Tory,” he said flatly, his face hot. “Not helping.”

She held up her hands in mock surrender, but the glint in her eyes told him she wasn’t done. “Okay, okay. Miguel has your clothes, so would you like to take a shower before changing?”

God, a shower. He didn’t realize it until now, but he really needed one.

“Yeah, that would be good,” Robby admitted, running a hand through his mess of a hair. The thought of hot water washing away everything that happened tonight was almost too tempting to resist, and—

Oh. Robby remembered where he was.

“But would Axel be fine with me taking a shower here? He’s already done too much for me tonight.” He glanced toward the door, half-expecting Axel to appear and weigh in, his towering frame casting a shadow that could easily make anyone second-guess themselves. “I don’t want to overstep.”

“Lemme ask him.” Tory didn’t hesitate. She was already halfway to the bedroom door before Robby could even process what she’d said.

“Wait, Tory—” He reached out, but she was already swinging the door open.

Axel and Miguel’s heads snapped toward the door. Robby felt his stomach drop as Axel’s sharp eyes landed on him, unreadable but intense. Miguel, on the other hand, looked more confused than anything, his brow furrowing as he glanced between Tory and Robby.

“Robby wants to take a shower. Can he use your bathroom?” Tory’s tone was flat, more a demand than a question. She didn’t mince words, and Robby wished he could sink into the floor.

Axel’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, and Robby felt like he was being scrutinized. Then, with a simple nod, Axel said, “Fine by me.”

Robby’s face burned as he mumbled a quick, “Thanks.” He wasn’t sure what to make of the man’s calm response, but he wasn’t about to overthink it now. The thought of finally getting clean was too good.

His girlfriend turned back to him, her expression softening just enough to let him know she wasn’t mad—just… Tory.

“Go on,” she said, nodding toward the bathroom. “I’ll grab your clothes from Miguel.”

Robby hesitated for a split second before giving her a light kiss on the cheek, which made her smile, and then headed toward the bathroom. As he stepped into it and shut the door, he let out a shaky breath, leaning against the sink for a moment. The cool tile felt grounding against his palms, and he allowed himself a second to just… breathe.

It was all he had to do.

As he turned on the shower, the water roaring to life, for a moment, he just stood there, staring at the steam curling up toward the ceiling. Breathing in and breathing out. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of something, like one wrong move, one wrong thought, and he’d lose whatever fragile grip he had on himself.

Robby stripped off Axel’s shirt, his fingers trembling slightly as he put it onto the counter with the utmost care. He hesitated before stepping into the shower, the hot water hitting his skin in a scalding rush that made him wince. He leaned against the tiled wall, letting the water pound against his back, and closed his eyes.

The memories crept in unbidden. Zara’s hands on him, the haze of the alcohol, the way his body had betrayed him, leaving him helpless. Then last night, the man’s leering face, the way his breath had smelled. Robby’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening against the wall. He wanted to scrub it all away, to peel his skin off if that was what it took.

He grabbed the soap, scrubbing at his arms, his chest, his neck until his skin was raw. But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. He could wash away the dirt and the sweat but not the memories. They were etched into him, a part of him now, and he hated it.

God, how he hated it.

Tears filled his eyes and he couldn’t stop them, didn’t even know if he wanted to. The sound of the water muffled everything else, the world outside the shower narrowing to just him and the steam. The water beat down on his back, and he let himself cry, the sound swallowed by the roar of the shower.

He didn’t care if it made him weak. He didn’t care if anyone heard. He just needed to let it out because, despite everything, he was okay.

Yeah, maybe okay wasn’t the right word, but what happened with Zara didn’t happen now. He was safe. In a room with the three people who had done the most to protect him, Robby was…

Safe.

A few minutes before

Axel leaned against the counter, arms crossed, as Robby and Tory disappeared down the hallway, the sound of the bedroom door clicking shut echoed in the sudden quiet of the kitchen. He didn’t miss the way Robby’s shoulders had hunched as he walked away or how Tory kept looking back at him, as if she was ready to hold him at any moment.

He glanced at Diaz, who was standing awkwardly by the fridge, holding Robby’s clothes in a crumpled bundle. He looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start. Axel didn’t blame him. The night had been a clusterfuck, and now they were standing in his kitchen, waiting for the dust to settle.

Besides, Diaz clearly still hated his guts, so he didn’t find it weird when he sat on the chair Robby was at, which shouldn’t have bothered Axel as much as it did, then stayed in a troubled silence.

That was until Nichols’s voice shot up, “Zara?!”

Axel’s head snapped toward the hallway at the sound. The word hit him like a punch to the gut— Zara . His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides as his mind was flooded with memories of exchanged glances when was being beaten by Sensei Wolf and of fighting together with her.

And he hadn’t heard that name in months, hadn’t thought about her since… well, he’d tried not to think about her at all.

“Shit,” Diaz muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.

Axel shot him a sideways glance. Why? What did he know?

“Why are they talking about her?” Axel straightened up, each word tight on his tongue.

He could see the shift in Diaz’s posture, the way his jaw clenched like he was holding back something monumental.

“That’s none of your business,” Diaz snapped, standing abruptly and dropping Robby’s clothes onto the chair. The fabric landed with a soft thud that felt louder than it should have.

Axel didn’t flinch. Instead, he stepped forward, narrowing the space between them. “It’s my business if it’s about Robby.”

Mainly after tonight. Never again was he going to let anyone hurt Robby like that, and if he had to push for that, then he would.

Diaz’s fury flared. “Oh, don’t you stand there and pretend you don’t know what that bitch did!” His voice lowered to a hiss.

Axel blinked. Bitch? He knew Nicholds hated Zara, she made that clear in their final fight, but what did she do to be called like that by Diaz? And what was he accusing Axel of? Frustration filled him.

Axel’s fists tightened at his sides, a pulse of heat igniting in his chest. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Diaz’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, unflinching despite the height difference. “Oh, fuck you, you do. You were her partner; how could you not know?”

“I. Did. Not.” Axel’s tone dropped low, the dangerous edge sharpening each word as he crossed his arms.

Diaz stared at him for what felt like an eternity, searching for something in Axel’s expression. Shock flickered across his features, then morphed into disbelief as he stepped back. “You really have no idea?”

Idea of what? Axel took a deep breath, his patience wearing thin. “Of what? Spit it out, Diaz.”

Miguel’s expression shifted, anger giving way to something else—something closer to guilt. “She—” He stopped, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe he was even having this conversation. “Zara hurt him. Badly. And you’re telling me you had no idea?”

Axel’s stomach dropped. “How?”

Miguel stared at him again, searching for any hint of deceit. When he found none, he let out a bitter laugh. “You really didn’t know? Or are you just playing dumb?”

Axel took another step forward, his towering frame closing the distance between them. “I’m not playing anything. Tell me what happened. Now.”

Diaz hesitated, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides before he looked away. “I can’t do it. I can’t be the one to tell you.”

Axel frowned, “Why not?”

“Because it’s not my place,” Diaz shot back, his tone sharp but laced with something heavier—guilt, maybe. “What happened… that’s Robby to tell.”

Axel’s hands flexed at his sides, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface but driven by concern above everything. “So, you’re just going to keep me in the dark? You expect me to stand here and not ask questions?”

He couldn’t. He needed to protect Robby from whatever that was, whatever Zara had done, and he couldn’t do it if he didn’t know what it was.

Diaz glared at him. “I expect you to respect that some things aren’t yours to know unless Robby wants you to.” Then he said something Axel would never have expected to hear from him. “ Please , just let it be and let Robby tell you when he’s ready.”

It wasn’t begging, anywhere near it, but the fact Diaz asked ‘please’ like that… Axel looked down. God, how bad could it have been? He glanced at the small hallway leading to his bedroom, possibilities running through his mind. Robby went there to tell Nichols about what happened tonight, and somehow that led to Zara so—

Axel swallowed down, his chest aching. No. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. He knew Zara was ruthless and had some kind of beef with Nichols, but she wouldn’t do something like that. It was too far, even for her.

Wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it?

Suddenly, the bedroom door creaked open, and it was immediate. Axel and Diaz’s heads snapped towards it; Nichols appeared in the doorway, her eyes red-rimmed, her cheeks blotchy, but her chin was lifted in that familiar defiance that Axel recognized from the Sekai Taikai.

His gaze flicked past her to Robby, who stood just behind her, shoulders hunched and seeming fragile. More so than when Axel had found him in that dark alley.

Axel’s first instinct was to shove Nichols out of the way, to pull Robby into the hallway and check on him himself. And if his suspicions about Zara were right, he’d need to add her to the ever-growing list of threats he had to protect Robby from. But before he could act, Nichols broke the silence.

“Robby wants to take a shower. Can he use your bathroom?” It sounded more like a demand than anything, which shouldn’t be surprising from the little he had known of her.

Axel’s eyes locked onto Robby’s, and he hated the way the faced him—like he couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a second, and he was ashamed or afraid or both. It twisted something deep in Axel’s chest, a pain he couldn’t quite name.

“Fine by me,” Axel gave a nod, keeping his expression neutral.

For some reason, Robby’s face flushed bright red at the response, and Axel’s stomach clenched. What had he said wrong? Robby mumbled a quiet, “Thanks,” as if he didn’t believe Axel would have said yes to whatever he asked.

As if Axel wouldn’t have given him anything if he’d just asked for it.

“Go on,” Nichols said to Robby, nodding toward the inside of the bedroom. “I’ll grab your clothes from Miguel.”

Axel watched Robby hesitate for a moment before leaning in to press a light kiss on Nichols’ cheek. Something in Axel’s gut twisted. He blinked, forcing his expression to stay neutral, but the feeling lingered, a low burn he couldn’t quite shake. What the hell was wrong with him today?

The sound of the bathroom door closing echoed through the bedroom, and Nichols glanced back at it briefly before shutting the bedroom door behind her. She turned, her eyes locking onto his, and for a split second, Axel wondered if she was going to hit him. It wouldn’t have been the first time someone hit him without warning, and he braced himself in instinct, his shoulders tensing.

But Nichols didn’t try anything. She stopped just short of him, and looked up, eyes narrowed. “Why did you help Robby?”

Axel froze. His mind raced, scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t betray the storm of emotions churning inside him. He could feel her gaze on him, waiting for him to slip up.

Because it was the right thing to do. That was the first answer he thought of, the one that made sense. He would’ve done the same for anyone in the same position after all, but would he have felt the same way if it had been someone else? That raw, unhinged fury that had clawed its way out of him in that alley—would it have been there?

The memory of it still burned in his chest, the way he’d lost control, the way he’d wanted to destroy the man who’d hurt Robby. It was about doing the right thing, but also… more.

And then there was the other answer, the one he didn’t want to look at, the one that whispered in the back of his mind. Robby was the first person in so long, ever since Sam, to show him kindness. Real kindness. Not the kind that came with strings attached or hidden agendas. Just… words. A touch. The bare minimum, maybe, but it was more than Axel had gotten from anyone in years.

More than he deserved.

And an ugly feeling, the kind that Sensei Wolf would beat out of him, was growing, and he didn’t know what to do with that. Axel’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t say any of that out loud, not to her, not to anyone. It felt too vulnerable, like peeling back a layer of himself he’d worked hard to keep buried.

“So?” Nicholls pushed, reminding him he had an answer to give.

Axel glanced at Diaz, who seemed smart enough to stay out of the girl’s way, and looked at the wall as if there was something deeply interesting in it. Then he gave his answer, “Because he needed help.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it should have been enough.

Nichols stared at him as if taking in every bit of information she could from his expression. “Just like that?”

Axel met her gaze head-on, “Just like that.”

For a few moments, silence stretched between them. He wondered if she could see through him, if she could pick apart the cracks in his carefully constructed facade. He held his ground, refusing to look away.

Then, slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of Nichols’ lips. It wasn’t warm or friendly, more like she’d just figured something out, but it was there nonetheless. She reached out her hand, and offered it to him. “Thank you. For looking out after Robby.”

Axel hesitated, his eyes flicking down to her outstretched hand. He wasn’t sure what to make of her sudden shift in tone, but he wasn’t about to refuse the gesture. He uncrossed his arms and took her hand, giving it a firm shake.

“I heard what happened from Miguel and Robby…” Nichols’ body tensed as if bracing for the worst, her sharp eyes locking onto his. “Is there anything else I should know?”

Axel considered what he would like to know if he was in her place. He didn’t have to think long.

“The guy won’t be a problem anymore,” He retreated his hand.

“Good.” Nichols nodded, not even blinking twice at the possibility of death. Her tone was matter-of-fact, “Did you recognize him?”

It fit that she was as ruthless in her personal life as she was in the mat. Axel had seen her in action—she didn’t hesitate, didn’t second-guess. It was one of the things he respected about her by the little he saw her fight.

“I was too busy beating his face to a pulp for that.” Axel shrugged, although now he wished he had paid more attention to that. Details mattered, and he’d been too focused on making sure the guy couldn’t get back up to care about who he was. “But Robby said his name is Marcus, and he competed with us.”

A sudden shift in the room caught his attention. Axel glanced over at Diaz and noticed the way he and Nichols exchanged glances, followed by smirks that broke across their faces. It was a look he didn’t trust—too knowing.

Axel’s brow furrowed, “What’s it?”

It was Nichols’s time to shrug, her smirk widening just enough to make him uneasy. “Nothing. Just… you’re not what I expected.”

His head tilted by instinct, his guard rising. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Diaz leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, “It means you’re not as bad as we rightfully thought.”

Axel didn’t like the way they were acting, like they’d just figured something out that he hadn’t. He shifted his weight, his shoulders stiffening under their scrutiny. “I did what I had to do. That’s all.”

Nichols’ smirk softened into something almost approving, “Yeah, you did. And Robby’s lucky to have someone like you in his corner, so thank you again.”

Axel’s chest tightened at her words, but he didn’t respond at first. He wasn’t sure what to say. Lucky? He wasn’t sure Robby would agree with that, not after everything that had happened tonight. Not after whatever Zara had done. And honestly, he was the lucky one there for having someone like Robby even give him the grace of his attention.

“You’re welcome,” Axel nodded in the end.

“Now that we are on the same page,” Nichols sighed, and Axel didn’t get it. Which page? Then she reached out her hand to Diaz, who gave her the clothes without a word, “I will give these to Robby.”

She left through the bedroom door, and how Axel wished to follow her, but as much as Robby had given him, this would probably not be the best time for him to be vulnerable around him again.

“I’m sorry.” Diaz broke the silence, something so unexpected and sudden that it made Axel whip his head towards him. Diaz stood stiffly, his fingers gripping the edges of the counter so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His gaze didn’t waver.

“For…?” Axel trailed off, hesitant.

What could Diaz possibly want to apologize for? He wasn’t the one who’d been in the wrong, not in any of their interactions. Sure, Robby might have forgiven him, but what he’d done… it was still there. It still happened, and no amount of apologies or explanations could ever change that.

“For how I’ve been treating you tonight,” Diaz said, the words sounding forced like they were being dragged out of him against his will. He ran a hand through his hair, before taking a deep, shaky breath. His jaw tightened, but he pressed on. “I’m not apologizing for suspecting you, that was… that was necessary. But once I realized you didn’t do shit besides save Robby, I could’ve been… nicer. So I’m sorry.”

Axel… didn’t know how to answer that.

He didn’t think anyone ever apologized for how they treated him—not his parents, not Sensei Wolf—and that was alright. He never minded it. But just like when Sam talked to him the first time, he was surprised by such… goodness. In no moment, he resented Diaz for hating him, so it must be hard for him to apologize like that.

“It’s okay. I’d have done the same in your position.” Axel admitted, giving Diaz a nod.

Or worse. He would definitely have done worse.

Diaz stared at him, then scoffed, “My position or Tory’s?”

Axel’s eyes widened, heat creeping up his neck. What- what was he- why did he say that? Why would he say that?

The sound of the bedroom door creaking open was a welcome relief. Nichols stood by Robby in the doorway, his dark hair damp and tousled, strands clinging to his forehead. He had changed into his own clothes, a simple t-shirt and jeans, and the sight left Axel with a pang of disappointment for some inexplicable reason.

It was stupid, really, but part of him had grown used to seeing Robby in his borrowed shirt. Now, that small connection was gone, and Axel couldn’t quite shake the odd sense of loss. He suppressed those feelings, though. God, he wasn’t in his right mind today.

“Damn, dude, you’re pulling off the wet cat look.” Diaz snorted and approached Robby.

Robby chuckled, and they hugged each other, Diaz’s arm slung around his shoulders in a manner that was both casual and protective. Nichols stood back, her arms crossed, but the smile on her face was soft, almost fond.

Axel’s chest tightened, a hollow ache settling deep in his ribs. It was clearer now more than ever that he didn’t belong to this. Yes, he might have saved Robby and spent the last two days more with him than Diaz and Nichols, but that didn’t mean shit. He didn’t mean shit. He was an outsider, a temporary fixture in Robby’s life, and nothing more.

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he swallowed it down, forcing his expression to remain neutral.

Diaz pulled back from the hug, ruffling Robby’s damp hair. “You good, man?”

“Yeah,” Robby nodded, quiet, “I’m good.”

Nichols stepped forward, her hand brushing Robby’s arm in a reassuring and intimate gesture. “You sure? You don’t have to pretend with us.”

Robby’s smile faltered for a moment, but he nodded again. “I’m sure. Really.”

Axel’s gaze dropped to the floor. He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t belong here. These were Robby’s people, his real friends, the ones who’d been there for him long before Axel had stumbled into his life. And now that they were here, Axel was just… in the way. He should just disappear.

“Hey.” Robby’s voice cut through the haze in Axel’s mind, pulling him back to the present.

Axel’s head snapped up as the other boy stepped closer. The room seemed to shrink around them, the noise of Diaz and Nichols fading into the background. All he could focus on was Robby, the way his damp hair clung to his forehead, the faint flush on his cheeks, the way his eyes held a softness that gave him goosebumps.

“Thanks for everything, Axel. You didn’t have to do anything you did, but…” Robby let out a dry laugh, the sound almost self-deprecating, but the way he looked at Axel—like he was worth something, like he mattered—was enough to make Axel’s throat tighten. “Thanks.”

And then Robby did it again. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and Axel froze as Robby’s arms wrapped around him in a hug. It wasn’t the first time Robby had hugged him, but this time felt different. Axel’s hands hung awkwardly at his sides, unsure of where to put them, and then he smelled it.

Robby smelled like him. He had used his products, and he smelled just like Axel. Something inside him purred at that, satisfaction filling him as he hugged Robby back, maybe too tight, even.

But Robby shifted, rising onto his tiptoes, and Axel felt it—a warm, soft press against his left cheek. His breath hitched, his entire body going rigid.

A kiss. Robby had just kissed him on the cheek.

Axel’s eyes widened, his mind scrambling to process what had just happened. His skin burned where Robby’s lips had touched him, the sensation lingering like a brand. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck again, his face flushing as his heart hammered in his chest.

Robby pulled back before Axel could figure out, a smile on his face when he patted his forearm, “See you later in the tournament?” He asked, simple like that, as if he hadn’t just turned Axel’s world upside down.

He could only nod, too stunned to do anything else.

Robby’s smile grew, and he walked away with Nichols and Diaz, who gave him funny looks on the way out. The door shut, but Axel couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. All he could do was stand there, his mind racing, his body still tingling from the brief contact.

Robby smelled like him. Robby hugged him. Robby just kissed him on the cheek.

What the hell just happened?

Hey, guys! Thank you for all the kudos and comments, they are lovely and motivated me a lot to continue this. So again, if you enjoyed the chapter, please leave a comment. I'd love to know what you think of it!❤️

Chapter Text

The sound of his phone calling Sam's echoed in his ear, each ring stretching the silence between them like a rubber band about to snap. He fidgeted with his sleeve, twisting it between nervous fingers while his free hand tapped an erratic rhythm against his knee.

A sigh of relief left his mouth when she answered.

"Hey, Sam."

“Robby! It's been a while.” Her voice came through, as full of warmth as he remembered, as if she didn't know yet how stained he was. “How are you?”

That question. Robby's shoulders tensed. He didn't know. And he really didn't want to know after crying in the shower until there were no more tears left.

“I’m… I’m okay.” He said with a forced smile despite his grip tightening on the phone.

“Good. And how’s the tournament going? Miguel said you went to the finals."

Of course, he did.

“Yeah, I've made it." Robby snorted, his earlier excitement about it from before this night back.

Fuck, he was considered among the best young people in Karate now. It was so wild that he still couldn't believe it. Because he earned it. Yes, people were initially interested in him and Tory being a kind of power couple, but both of them had the chance to prove themselves this past year, and they did so.

It didn't save you, though, did it? The bitter thought came so quickly that it hit him like a truck, aching his chest. If it wasn't for his friend speaking, he would have gotten lost in it.

“That’s amazing, Robby. Congrats.” Sam sounded genuinely happy, so genuine that it was painful. But there was a beat of silence before she continued. “You didn’t call just to say hi, though, did you?”

Ah, shit, she noticed.

Robby chuckled, though it felt hollow. “Can’t I miss you?”

He missed her. Truly. Maybe he always would miss the time when they were closer than ever, and with her so far away, even more. But yeah, that wasn't the reason he called.

The line was quiet for a moment, and he could almost hear her raising an eyebrow on the other end. When she didn’t respond, he sighed, "Okay, fine. I… I need to ask you something. Has Miguel told you about Axel being back?"

“Oh my God, I'm so glad you mentioned it," Sam made a small, amused noise, the rustling of sheets suggesting she was lounging on a bed, "Because that’s all Miguel’s been talking about. Robby and Axel this, Robby and Axel that. I was this close to calling you myself to ask what was going on, but I didn’t want to bother you during the tournament.”

Robby’s mind raced, piecing together the last few days. Miguel’s lack of freakouts and the way he’d stepped back without a fight. It all made sense now. His best friend hadn’t been holding back out of some newfound maturity. He’d been processing everything with Sam instead.

A laugh bubbled up in Robby’s chest, sincere this time, and he let it out, shaking his head. “That sounds like Miguel,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

Sam chuckled on the other end of the line, and for a moment, it felt like old times. Like they were just two friends catching up, no weight of the past hanging over him, and nothing of the last night staining the moment.

But then, Sam’s tone shifted to something softer, more careful. “So… how is it? Being around Axel again?”

Robby hesitated, his smile fading slightly. He thought about the last few days. At first, it was just the shock and the will to move forward that guided his actions, then anger and frustration with Axel's attitude when they were fighting together, and something he couldn't describe from the moment they trained together.

Without even mentioning how Axel had saved him and looked at him afterward, and then… The kiss on the cheek. His stomach fluttered at the memory, but he pushed it down, focusing on Sam’s question.

“It’s… complicated,” he admitted, running a hand through his damp hair, “But it’s good. Better than I thought it would be.”

Much better, actually. If someone had told him a week ago that he’d be standing here, calling Sam because he was genuinely worried about Axel, he would’ve laughed in their face. Yet here he was.

"Oh. That's good…" Sam trailed off, more unsure. "Isn't it?"

"It is. But I’ve got questions now," Robby said, exhaling heavily as he rubbed his knee, fingers brushing against it, "There are things I’ve noticed about Axel that I… I don’t know. They’re…"

"Off?" she completed, understanding in a way that caught him off guard.

So he wasn’t imagining things. A wave of relief washed over him, mingling with the lingering unease that had been gnawing at him.

"Yeah. You noticed it, too, right?" Robby didn't want to seem so excited, because dammit, what he suspected was awful. But it was a bit good to know he wasn't crazy. "Miguel mentioned you talked to Axel once."

"We met at the beach when I went out for a walk." Sam’s voice softened, but there was an unease underneath. “He was doing a pretty cool kata, and we started talking, but his back… it was covered in bruises, and he didn’t want me to see. I asked him about it, and he just brushed it off, said it was from the tournament. But it didn’t make sense because I didn't remember him getting hit.”

Bruises? The mere idea of Axel getting bruised was absurd. Ever since Miguel, he hadn't heard of anyone having defeated Axel or hitting him like Robby had.

Robby frowned, something uncomfortable growing in his chest. "I remember. No one had touched him yet back then."

“Robby, I saw something else." Sam was hesitant, as if she were treading on fragile ground. "When I was walking by the training area one, I saw Axel’s Sensei… and he was hitting him. And Axel wasn’t fighting back. Not even defending himself. It was scary.”

No. No, that couldn't be. He thought about the way Axel protected him in the tournament, nothing but ruthless with opponents on their level. Then he thought about Axel’s hands, rough and bloody, how he’d almost killed Marcus in the alley, his rage burning hotter than Robby had ever seen.

That came from someone who could protect themselves. So how? Just like you could protect yourself, too? The same whisper came from the back of his head, and Robby had to swallow down the bile.

His grip on the phone tightened. “What do you mean he wasn’t fighting back?”

“I mean, he just-” Sam cut herself off, as if she couldn't bear it. “He just stood there. Took it. Like he thought he deserved it or something. It was awful, Robby. I wanted to step in, but I didn’t know what to do.”

His chest tightened as it all came back to him, this time clearer than ever. Axel flinched after their training, not because he was afraid of Robby or something else, but because he was used to being hit. Because the person he should rely on was hurting him instead. Robby didn't get it. As much as his dad, Sensei Chozen, and Sensei Daniel had their problems, they would have never done anything like that.

Never.

What kind of Sensei would do that to their student? Fury surged through Robby as he pictured an adult hurting Axel for who knows how long, hitting him for fun just like the guards had done to him in juvie. He imagined Axel just standing there, taking hit after hit, suffering alone with no one to defend him, and it only boiled his blood.

"Robby?" Sam dragged him from the fire spreading through his body, reminding him they were still on call.

He took a deep breath. Sam didn't deserve his anger; she was just being nice and telling him precisely what he asked her to.

“Thanks for telling me, Sam,” Robby said finally, trying to keep his voice soft and light. “I… I'll figure it out with Axel.”

He had no idea how, but he would.

“Okay. But like, don't forget about yourself, too."

Robby nodded, even though she couldn’t see him, “I won't."

The line went quiet for a moment.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” Sam said finally, breaking the silence. “I’m here.”

“I will,” Robby promised. “Thanks, Sam.”

Robby’s stomach churned when the call ended. He thought about Axel’s silence, the way he’d always seemed to hold something back, like he was walking on eggshells. The way he’d hugged Robby earlier, so tight it almost hurt, as if he were starving for something like that. It fit. Unfortunately, it just fit with what Sam told him.

And he couldn't pretend not to know, just like Axel couldn't after what happened that night. Not after everything. Axel had saved him tonight, had protected him when he couldn’t protect himself. Now it was his turn to do the same.

But first, he needed answers.

The tournament hall buzzed with energy, the crowd’s roar like a tidal wave crashing against Robby’s ears. He bounced on the balls of his feet, his fingers flexing at his sides as he glanced around. Fighters stretched, sparred, and paced, the clatter of fists hitting pads and feet slamming mats creating a chaotic rhythm.

He was scanning their faces when flashes of Marcus's sly smile crossed his mind. Goosebumps danced across his skin, and he shook his head, remembering that Axel rearranged that same face. And Marcus wasn’t here, anyway. Of course, he wasn’t. After that beating, he was probably still in the hospital, and honestly, good riddance.

His gaze wandered back to the entrance, searching for the one person he needed to see. Axel should’ve been here by now. Robby’s stomach knotted. What if he wasn’t coming? That would be awkward, given that they were supposed to fight together today. But more than that, Robby needed to talk to him about what he found out.

He still hadn't figured out how, but he would try. He owned that to Axel.

Robby looked at the crowd, spotting Tory and Miguel among the people. A smile opened on his lips at the sight of them waving at him, still not believing his luck. If he hadn't had them in his life, if his father and Daniel hadn't fought for him… would he have ended up in Axel's situation?

Likely.

He hadn't realized it before, but maybe Axel didn't latch onto him just because he was guilty. Maybe, he was just… alone. And there wasn't a worse thing than to suffer alone.

Finally, Axel walked in, his towering frame cutting through the crowd. He moved with that quiet grace that always made him seem larger than life, even in a room full of fighters. Robby’s heart kicked up a notch. He forced himself to stay calm, even as relief washed over him.

He made his way over, weaving through the throng of bodies. “Hey,” he said, casual, like his heart wasn’t pounding in his chest.

Axel stopped, his gaze flicking down to Robby. “Hey.”

Okay, now what?

Robby scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling awkward. “You get any sleep after I left?”

Axel’s expression didn’t change. “Couldn’t sleep, but that’s alright.”

No, it wasn't. If Robby hadn't been stupid, if he hadn't let it happen to him again, they would have had a nice meal and slept well before the tournament.

Robby nodded, guilt waving through him. He wished to apologize, but knew he had to set his priorities straight. “Yeah, I get that.” He hesitated, looking around, then said, “Look, we need to talk.”

Axel froze, his body stiff, and for a split second, Robby thought the guy might bolt. Then, to his surprise, Axel’s cheeks flushed a deep red. He leaned in, whispering. “Is this about the kiss?”

He blinked, his brain short-circuiting for a second. The kiss. Oh, that kiss.

Robby let out a chuckle and rubbed the back of his head, "Honestly, it would be much easier if it were about it, but yeah, it isn't that." He froze for a moment, realizing something, and looked up at Axel. "Wait, you want to talk about it?"

Not that there was necessarily anything to talk about it, it was just a kiss on the cheek for everything Axel did for him. What more could it have been?

Somehow, Axel's turned redder. "No, I just…" He quickly said, clearing his throat. "What did you want to talk about then?"

"Okay…" Robby narrowed his eyes. That was weird, but maybe it was part of the things Axel didn't get to have because of the asshole who trained him. So he shrugged it off and followed through, "I wanted to talk about your Sensei. Or… ex-Sensei, I guess?"

Axel's entire demeanor changed. He straightened up, his shoulders tensing as he scowled, "You mean Wolf?"

Right, that was the name. But now Robby wasn't as confident as before, after seeing how much Axel had changed his attitude just at the mention of that guy. Maybe he was fucking up. Maybe he was getting into something he shouldn't. Shit, was he really the right person to talk to Axel about it? Shouldn't he take him to a therapist or something?

"Robby?" Axel took him out of his thoughts, quickening his breath.

God, what should he say now? Did he just stand there? He had to say something, but—

You know what? Fuck it, he wouldn't leave Axel alone in this as he was when he pushed everyone away. Things would be different this time.

"I know what he did to you." It all left his mouth at once before he could lose any courage.

Axel’s face went pale, his jaw tightening as he took a step back. His usual stoic mask cracked, revealing such vulnerability that it scared him. Robby looked down at his hands, at how they clenched at his sides like he was ready to fight or bolt.

“What are you talking about?” Axel spat, but there was a flicker of panic in his eyes.

Robby swallowed hard, his own heart racing. He hadn’t expected Axel to react like this. He thought he’d be cold, dismissive, maybe even angry. But this? This was something else entirely. Axel looked scared, and Robby didn't know what to do with that.

“I know he…" Robby took a deep breath. “Hurt you. More than just training. And I’m not— I’m not judging you or anything. I just… I want to help.”

He watched Axel's eyes narrow, and for a moment, Robby thought he might snap. The guy’s fists were trembling, his breathing quick and shallow. The noise of the tournament around them, the crowd cheering and mats squeaking underfoot, faded into the background as they stood there.

“I don’t need your help,” Axel finally said, hard, almost bitter. But the way his voice wavered betrayed him. “It’s none of your business.”

None of his business? Yeah, but no.

“You became my business the moment you decided to step in and protect me." Robby shot back, and he didn't even know if he meant last night or before in the tournament.

If the thing with Marcus hadn't happened, he liked to think he would still have noticed all the weird stuff and reached out to help. But he also couldn't deny that his need to do something had come after Axel was there for him in one of the worst moments in his life, and he just… he couldn't not be there for him too.

Axel stepped forward, his broad frame looming over Robby like a storm cloud as if he were trying to make himself bigger. As if he were trying to scare him.

“No, I did not.” Axel snarled, and Robby could see the tension in every muscle.

He should be scared. Axel looked like the man who had nearly ended Robby’s karate career, the one who had beaten Marcus to the brink of death. But Robby wasn’t scared. He should’ve been, maybe, but all he felt was a deep pang of sadness and confusion. He had provoked this, and Axel was just reacting, but for him to react like that to someone offering help…

Fuck, what had Wolf done to him?

The loudspeaker crackled to life, cutting through the tension. “First match: Robby Keene and Axel Kovacevic versus Jake Wellington and Mark Zihuan. Please make your way to the mat.”

Axel froze, his expression shifting from anger to something else. Horror. He stepped back, his face pale, his hands dropping to his sides. He glanced at Robby, then away, as if he couldn’t bear to meet his gaze.

Ah shit, this wasn't how he wanted this to go.

“It’s okay,” Robby said softly, barely audible over the noise of the crowd. He tried to smile, to reassure him, but it didn't work.

Axel shook his head. "It’s not.”

Robby didn’t know what to say. Maybe it was not, but it didn't seem to matter because Axel was struggling, and he couldn't help. He wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap between them, but Axel was already turning away, striding toward the mat with a determined, almost mechanical gait. Robby followed, his heart pounding in his ears.

The crowd roared as they stepped onto the mat, the noise deafening, but Robby barely registered it. His eyes were locked on Axel, who stood next to him, his stance tight as their opponents stood before them. Robby felt a pang of guilt. Looking back, he shouldn’t have brought it up like that, not here, not now.

The referee raised his hand, signaling the start of the match, and Robby forced himself to focus. Robby moved, his body falling into the rhythm of the fight. His opponent, Jake, came at him with a flurry of strikes, but Robby dodged and countered with some effort. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught glimpses of Axel. The man was a whirlwind of raw power, but there was something off. His strikes were too wild, too aggressive, like he was fighting to destroy rather than to win.

Robby blocked a kick from Jake, his mind racing. Axel’s punches were landing with brutal force, but his form was sloppy, his breathing ragged. It wasn’t the controlled, calculated fighter Robby had come to know. This was something else, something darker, fueled by emotions Axel couldn’t, or wouldn’t, contain. His focus was solely on his opponent, Mark, who was barely keeping up with the onslaught. Robby gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus on his own fight.

He swept Jake’s legs out from under him, then finished him with a precise punch. The referee called the match, and Robby stood, turning just in time to see Axel land a final, devastating blow that sent Mark sprawling.

The crowd erupted in cheers, but it didn't seem like a victory. Axel stood over his opponent, his chest heaving, his fists still clenched. For a moment, it looked like he might not stop, like he was ready to keep going until there was nothing left. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, Axel stepped back, his expression unreadable.

Fuck, it was bad. He really shouldn't have said anything.

They left the mat, the noise of the crowd fading into the background as Robby tried to catch up to Axel. “Hey, wait!” he called, but Axel didn’t slow down. He strode toward the locker room, his shoulders tense, his head down.

Robby started after him, but before he could get far, Tory and Miguel appeared in front of him, blocking his path.

“Robby,” Tory said, her eyes scanning his face. “Are you okay?"

At the same time, Miguel’s gaze was sharp, his arms crossed. “We saw Axel towering over you. Did he do something to you?"

Of course, they were paying attention right when that happened. And honestly, it must have looked bad from the outside, but it wasn't actually like that.

Robby shook his head, his chest tightening. “No, he didn’t do anything. I’m fine.”

Tory frowned, “You don’t look fine. What’s going on?” She used that tone that said she saw right through his bullshit, and dammit, he could never lie to her.

Robby ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up. “I’m the one who fucked up, okay? I said something I shouldn’t have, and now…” He trailed off, glancing toward the locker room. “I just need to talk to him again.”

Like he could fix everything with that. Like it might change anything. Like he could go back in time and protect Axel.

Miguel’s expression softened, but he didn’t move. “Robby, if he’s—”

“He’s not,” Robby cut in, not even knowing what Miguel meant, but knowing it was bad. “It’s not like that. Just… let me handle this.”

Tory and Miguel exchanged a look, but they didn’t argue. Tory stepped aside, her hand brushing his arm. “Okay. But if you need us…”

They would be there. It took him a good while to realize that, but they would.

“I know,” Robby said, giving her a small, grateful smile. “Thanks.”

He didn’t wait for a response, turning and heading for the locker room. He had to fix this. He had to make it right. For Axel.

He did it again.

Axel hurt Robby again.

He slammed the locker room door shut behind him, the sound echoing like a gunshot. He leaned against the wall, his chest aching, his hands trembling at his sides. His mind was a mess. Robby knows. Robby fucking knows. How? How could he have found out? And why now? Why here?

He had worked so hard to bury it, to shove it down so deep that even he could almost forget, almost pretend it wasn't in his nightmares. But now it was out there. Now, Robby, out of everyone, knew. Worse, Axel had reacted like a cornered animal, towering over Robby like that, as if he would hurt him, wanting him to think he would.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, justified it. It didn't matter if he would never actually do it again. The damage was done. The trust, if there had been any left, was shattered. And it was his fault. All his fault.

The look on Robby’s face, of shock, maybe even fear, burned in his mind. Axel pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to push the image away. He should never have approached Robby that day. This was a mistake. All of this. If he hadn't let his guard open, if he hadn't thought he could be more than what Wolf had made him, none of this would have happened.

He slid down the wall, his legs giving out beneath him, until he was sitting on the cold, hard floor. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh, unforgiving glow. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, but the pain wasn't enough to drown out the guilt. It never was.

What now? What could he possibly do to fix this? To make it right? He didn't even know if Robby would ever speak to him again. And why should he? Axel had proven, once again, that he was dangerous. That he was a threat.

He leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. He had tried so hard to change, to be better. But some things, it seemed, were impossible to outrun. Some scars never healed. And some people never changed.

The door creaked open, and Axel immediately got up, not expecting the sight that greeted him. Robby stood there, hesitating in the doorway, but determination gleamed in his eyes. Axel’s stomach twisted. Of course, Robby would follow him, despite what he had done. He was that good.

“I know you must hate me now. I get it.” Robby gave him a weak smile, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “But I just wanted to help. And I still do.”

"I don't hate you." It was the first thing Axel said, because of course he didn't, how could he ever hate Robby? As angry as he was, that never crossed his mind. Robby was the one who should hate him now. He straightened, his shoulders stiff when he declared. "But you can't help me."

No one could. What Wolf had done to him, what he had become because of him… it wouldn't change. He spent a year trying to, but his reaction to Robby saying something that triggered him showed him that none of it mattered. He was still the same monster that broke Robby's knee, just hiding it better.

The way Robby looked at him, though, as if he still mattered, as if he was still worth helping, made him want to believe he was better than he actually was.

Robby opened his mouth to say something, but the creak of the door swinging open cut him off. Both their heads snapped towards it, Axel’s breath catching in his chest. Nothing could have prepared him for seeing Wolf leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips as if he’d been waiting for this moment all along.

Axel froze, a cold, paralyzing dread seizing his limbs. His eyes widened, the room suddenly shrinking around him. Memories flashed unbidden, slaps that stung, punches that left him gasping for air, the weight of Wolf’s gaze crushing him over and over across the years. It was all there, hitting him in a single, suffocating wave. His instincts screamed at him to run, to get as far away as possible, but then Wolf’s gaze shifted, away from him, landing on Robby.

Something inside Axel snapped.

His jaw clenched, teeth grinding as he stepped forward without thinking. He grabbed Robby’s forearm, his grip firm but not harsh, and ignored the confused, almost startled look Robby gave him. Pulling him behind his back, Axel positioned himself between Robby and Wolf, his body tense, ready to shield him from whatever came next.

The fear was still there, coiling in his chest, but it was buried under something fiercer, protective, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

"How cute." Wolf's smirk widened, mockery dripping from his voice.

The same voice that had been haunting his nightmares all this time.

"What do you want?" Axel said between clenched teeth, refusing to back down.

"It was supposed to be a surprise, but as the most times champion of this tournament, they invited me to give the prize to the new winner." Wolf shrugged, "So I decided to check in on my favorite student."

Favorite student. He had never called him like that before.

"I'm not your student anymore." Axel made it clear. One of the few things he was proud of was the moment he finally stood up to his Sensei.

"For now." Wolf tilted his head as if to take a look at Robby, and Axel shielded him even more from Wolf, "And that's… Robby, isn't it?"

He knew it. He knew about Robby, and if Wolf cared to know about someone, then that was a bad sign.

"For you, it's Keene," Robby spoke from behind him, colder than he had ever heard him.

"Keene." Wolf appeared to savor the last name in a way that made Axel tenser. He took a step forward, and Axel instinctively stepped back, making himself bigger. Wolf raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Isn't his knee the one you fucked up?"

Axel clenched his hands in fists. Robby's scream echoed in his ears like it did a year ago, a sound he couldn’t escape, one that clawed at the edges of his consciousness whenever he let his guard down. He didn't want to do it. It was a poor excuse, he knew that, but the moment he realized what he had done, he regretted it. It was why he couldn't hurt Diaz like that, either.

He glanced at Robby, fully expecting him to turn on him at the reminder of what he was responsible for, of the pain he caused.

Instead, Robby glared at Wolf in a way that he didn't even seem to notice Axel was there. "And I'm sure you had nothing to do with that," he scoffed.

Axel's brain failed to process what he said. Robby didn't know. No one knew what Wolf had told him that day, and yet, Robby spoke with such conviction and disgust that he might as well have been hearing them back then.

Wolf’s smirk faltered for the first time, his eyes narrowing as they locked onto Robby. “Smart kid. But you don't know everything."

The imminence of what was happening got to Axel. Wolf didn't explain himself. He did, he took and took, and didn't apologize for anything. But this… it was just like when they met. Except that sickening interest was towards Robby now.

But Robby didn’t flinch before it. He stepped out from behind Axel, his jaw set, his eyes blazing with defiance. “I know enough,” he shot back. “And I know you’re not welcome here.”

This wasn't good. None of this was. He could feel it in his bones that Wolf was onto something. His chest tightened, and he wanted to pull Robby back, to shield him again, but something in Robby’s stance stopped him. There was a fire in him, a determination that Axel hadn’t seen before.

It was like watching a storm gather.

Wolf chuckled, but it was hollow, forced. “You’ve got some nerve, Keene. I’ll give you that.” He took another step forward, his gaze flicking to Axel. “But this isn't your fight."

“It is now,” Robby crossed his arms. “You don’t get to come in here and act like you own him. Axel’s not your punching bag anymore.”

The words hit Axel like a punch to the gut. He stared at Robby, his mind reeling. No one had ever stood up for him like this, not against Wolf. Not ever. The weight of it was overwhelming, a mix of gratitude and fear that left him speechless.

Wolf’s expression darkened, his hands in his pockets. “Oh, so you know?” he sneered, taking another step closer. “Aren't you ashamed to have a chihuahua protecting you from me, Axel?"

Fury bubbled up to the surface. Robby clenched his teeth and stepped forward, but Axel stretched out his arm in front of him, stopping him.

"Leave, Wolf," Axel said, like steel scraping concrete, no snarl, no tremor. Just frost-edged precision. "Or I'll make you."

Wolf snorted, a derisive puff of air that didn’t quite mask the flicker of calculation in his eyes. He stepped back slowly, shoulders rolling in exaggerated nonchalance even as his smirk curdled into something bitter. "See you around, boys."

With that, he turned and walked out, the door slamming shut behind him. The sound echoed in the silence, leaving Axel and Robby alone in the locker room. Axel stood frozen, the echo of Wolf’s departure still ringing in his ears. His hands trembled at his sides, the adrenaline surging through him sharply.

He could feel Robby’s gaze on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet it. Not yet.

“Are you… alright?” Robby’s voice broke the silence, soft but insistent.

Axel clenched his jaw. No, he wasn’t alright. He wasn’t even close to alright. His chest felt like it was caving in, his mind a storm of fear, anger, and something else he couldn’t name, and he… he had experience with Wolf. Too much of it, even. It was why, when he walked away from him, he went as far away as possible.

Now, either he gave up on the tournament, or he faced him. But that wasn't the worst part, though. The worst was that if he was right, Wolf seemed to have a new target.

Axel turned to Robby and forced himself to speak, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Robby frowned, stepping closer. “Done what? Told him to back off? Axel, he—”

“It’s not your business,” Axel snapped, cutting him off. He hated it, hated himself for it, but Robby didn't get it. He didn't get how dangerous Wolf could be when you were in his aim. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

Robby shook his head. “You think I was just going to stand there and let him talk to you like that? Let him intimidate you?”

Axel’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He didn’t need Robby to defend him. He didn’t deserve it. “I don't need you to protect me."

“Well, I didn't need you to protect me either." Robby shot back, taking a deep breath before continuing, "Until I did. So just… don't do this alone, Axel. Please."

Axel hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. Alone. That was what he had been for so long. Even with Zara… no , he had been alone. And it never bothered him, or at least, he had never let it. People like him should be alone. They deserved loneliness. But Robby was there, arguing otherwise, asking him to just let him be by his side.

And Axel couldn't do it. The back of his eyes burned. He couldn't let Robby be another victim of the consequences of his actions. But he also couldn't push him away. He tried to, but he just couldn't.

“Wolf doesn’t just walk away from things,” Axel said finally, barely a whisper. He didn’t look up, didn’t want to see the concern in Robby’s eyes. “This isn’t over.”

Robby’s expression softened, but there was still a fire in his eyes that Axel couldn’t ignore. “He walked away after my dad kicked his ass."

Axel couldn't help the snort that left his mouth. Because yes, from what he heard, that was exactly what Wolf did. Maybe the humiliation of losing to an old dude had been too much.

The loudspeaker crackled, their names echoing through the hall. “Next match: Robby Keene and Axel Kovacevic versus Kieran and Ethan Carter. Please make your way to the mat.”

Finally, they would be back to what he was good at.

"We should go." Axel turned toward the door, his body moving on autopilot. But before he could take more than a step, Robby’s hand shot out, gripping his arm.

Axel froze, his muscles tensing under Robby’s touch. He glanced down at the hand on his arm, then up at Robby’s face.

“I’m not sorry for what I said to him. And I’m not going to back down." The younger boy’s expression was serious, but there was something softer in his gaze, something that made Axel’s chest tighten. "If you need me, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Axel stared at him, his throat dry. He didn’t know what to say. No one had ever said something like that to him before. He wanted to argue, to tell Robby he didn’t need his help, that he didn’t deserve it. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he just nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement.

Robby’s grip on his arm tightened for a moment, then he let go, and gave him a smile as he headed toward the door. Axel followed him out of the locker room, and honestly, he might have followed him anywhere if he just kept smiling at him.

The noise of the crowd hit him like a wall as they stepped back into the tournament hall, the energy of the place buzzing in his veins. He forced himself to focus, to push everything else aside. He had a fight to win. But as they stepped onto the mat, Axel couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted.

For the first time in a long time, Axel didn’t feel entirely alone. And that scared him more than anything Wolf could ever do.

Another photoshoot wasn't exactly what Robby was expecting to do now.

Robby forced a smile as the camera flashed, his muscles coiled tight beneath the practiced ease of his karate poses. The studio lights burned against his skin, the air thick with the scent of hairspray. He shifted into another stance, executing a front kick.

The stylist adjusted his gi, her fingers brushing his shoulder. "Tilt your chin up." He obeyed, "Yes, just like that."

He tried to focus, but his mind kept going back to the locker room earlier that day. Wolf’s smirk, Axel’s tension, the way he’d stepped in front of Robby as if shielding him from something. It had been a wake-up call, seeing Axel like that, so vulnerable but still fiercely protective. It didn't matter who Wolf was. The moment he saw it, Robby hated him already.

And if it were on him, that man would never approach Axel again.

"Now, show us your tournament-winning move!" the photographer called, grinning behind his lens.

Robby exhaled, rolling his shoulders back. He launched into the spinning hook kick that had clinched his last victory, his body a blur of motion. The camera whirred, capturing the moment, but all he could think about was the way Axel had flinched when Wolf said he was his favorite student.

“Perfect! Let’s take five,” the photographer called, lowering his camera. “Robby, we need you in the next outfit. Dressing room’s over there.”

Robby nodded and stepped off the set. The photoshoot had been going on longer than he expected, and his muscles were starting to ache from holding so many exaggerated karate poses. He grabbed the pile of clothes from the stylist, giving her a quick smile before heading toward the dressing room.

Entering it without paying much attention to his surroundings, Robby set the clothes down on the sofa at the entrance and started peeling off the bright red gi he’d been wearing for the first half of the shoot.

"Good shape for such a poor fighter."

Robby froze, his fingers still gripping the hem of his gi. The voice slithered through the room, cold and mocking, and his stomach dropped when his head whipped towards it. His heart pounded upon seeing Wolf lounging in one of the dressing room chairs, that same smirk playing on his lips.

What the fuck? No, what the actual fuck?

“How did you get in here?” Robby demanded. He glanced at the door, half-expecting it to burst open with security, but it remained shut.

Wolf tilted his head, “Does it matter?” He leaned back, his gaze sweeping over Robby with a predatory gleam. “You’re not exactly hard to find, Keene. Always in the spotlight, always so… visible.”

Robby’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He forced himself to stay calm, to not let Wolf see how much his presence unnerved him. “What do you want? Axel isn't here.”

"Who said I'm here for him?" Wolf got up and approached Robby.

Robby frowned and tensed, preparing for whatever Wolf might do. "Why are you here then?"

"For you." Wolf closed the distance between them, his imposing frame looming over Robby. He tilted his head slightly, that infuriating smirk stretching wider. "You know," he drawled, "From here, I can finally see some similarity between you and your father."

Robby’s stomach tightened. His instincts screamed at him to move, to fight, but he held his ground. He wouldn’t give Wolf the satisfaction of seeing him flinch.

“Let me guess,” Robby scoffed, “You’re about to tell me how much you hate my dad. How you could’ve taken him if things had gone differently. Am I close?”

Wolf snorted, but there was something dangerous in his smirk now, like the edge of a blade glinting in the light. He leaned in, his breath hot against Robby’s face. “Not quite. I don’t hate your father. In fact, I respect him.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air before adding, “It’s not every day someone like him humbles someone like me.”

Okay… something was off.

His jaw tightened. “Then what do you want from me?”

Wolf straightened and crossed his arms. “You’re not like him, though. You’re still young, still raw. But I see potential in you, Robby.” He took another step forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Potential that’s being wasted."

So that was what this was about.

Robby sneered. "Oh, and you can help me reach my potential?" He tilted his head, "Wasn't I 'such a poor fighter'?"

Wolf chuckled, shaking his head like he was dealing with a stubborn child. "For now? Yeah, you are." His fingers tightened slightly on Robby's shoulder, the grip firm, almost possessive. Robby's lip curled as he stared at the offending hand like it was something rotten before flicking his gaze back up to Wolf's face. "But with my teachings… Well, you might actually get somewhere worth being."

Robby shoved his hand, and his entire body recoiled. "I'm already at the place I want to be," he spat, the words sharp with defiance. "And so is Axel."

Wolf's smirk twisted into something colder at the mention of the name. "Axel?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes like the very idea was laughable. "Axel doesn't have a damn clue what he wants. Never did." His voice dripped with disdain, as if the mere thought of Axel was beneath him. "And you ’re not listening. You’re too busy playing the hero, thinking you can save him from himself. But here’s the truth, kid, Axel doesn’t need saving. And soon, he will be exactly where he belongs."

It ignited something in Robby that felt like liquid fire. Robby’s fists trembled at his sides, but he didn’t move. He wouldn’t give Wolf the reaction he was clearly trying to provoke.

Instead, he took a step forward, closing the distance between them, his voice low and firm. "He won't come back to your dojo."

"I don't know," Wolf hummed as he put his hand in his pocket and took his phone out of it. "I'm a very persuasive person when I want to be."

Robby’s frown deepened as Wolf held up the phone, the screen illuminating with a video that began to play. The footage showed the familiar streets of the city they were in, bathed in the dim glow of nighttime. For a few seconds, it seemed like nothing more than a mundane recording of urban life.

But then the camera panned to an alley across the street, and the unmistakable sound of fists hitting flesh echoed through the speakers.

A cold dread settled in Robby’s stomach as his eyes widened, glued to the screen. The video zoomed in, revealing the harrowing scene: his own body limp on the ground, and Axel on top of Marcus, delivering blow after blow. Robby’s gaze flickered between the video and Wolf’s smug expression, his mind racing to piece together the implications.

For a fleeting moment, he clung to hope. Maybe the footage was too dark, too grainy for anyone to recognize him or Axel. Axel’s face was obscured by shadows, his identity hidden by the night. But that fragile hope shattered as the video continued, capturing the moment Axel turned to him.

Even through the grainy footage, the gentleness in Axel’s actions was clear as day. He lifted Robby with care, his face now fully visible under the harsh glare of the streetlights, leaving no room for doubt.

"You were there…" Robby breathed out and looked up at Wolf, not believing they had been that unlucky.

"I was passing by," Wolf shrugged and put his phone back in his pocket, but there was something off.

It just couldn't be a coincidence, could it? Wolf passing by at the exact moment it all happened… it was such bullshit.

Robby narrowed his eyes. "Then why were you even filming before you got to the alley?"

Wolf's smirk faltered, and he stared at Robby for a few seconds before chuckling. "Zara told me to try to film some of the city for her." When Robby didn't react, he continued, "Look, don't worry your little head with the details, Keene. The thing is that I got copies of this, and whatever I decide to do with them will destroy Axel."

Right. No matter what, Wolf still held all the power in this. Robby deflated and looked down, the reality of the situation crashing over him. If Wolf took this to the police, or just to the tournament directors… Axel was fucked up anyway. And it was all because of him.

Because Robby couldn't protect himself.

Robby clenched his teeth and faced Wolf. "What do you want?"

"You." The smirk was back on Wolf's lips. "In my dojo."

Robby exhaled. He had no illusions about what this meant, no false hope to cling to. If Wolf treated Axel, his greatest winner, his golden boy, like shit, then he definitely wouldn’t be nice to Robby at all. Not even close. So yeah, he would have to endure everything Axel had dealt with, and maybe worse.

The thought sent a cold shiver down his spine, but he pushed it aside. There was no other choice now. Axel protected him, so it was his turn to look out for him. And if that meant Robby was walking into a cage with no way out, he was okay with it. Even if Tory and Miguel would totally kill him for it when they found out.

"Will you stay away from Axel?" Robby asked finally, because that was the only thing that mattered in this deal.

Wolf's smirk widened. "You're not exactly in a position to bargain. But yeah, I will." He shrugged and tilted his head, "If he comes to me, though, I will just have to welcome him back."

Yeah, like he would let it happen.

Robby gave him a fake smile. "Then I'll just have to make sure he doesn't come to you."

Wolf raised his eyebrows, amused, and patted his shoulder. "I have to admit," He leaned in, whispering in his ear, "You'll be more fun to beat up than your father."

Robby barely held back from throwing up. God, could this guy get any worse?

Three knocks on the door came before a woman shouted, "Are you ready, Mr. Keene? The five minutes are up."

Wolf’s eyes flicked toward the door, his smirk widening once more. "Seems we’re out of time,” he said, stepping back and retreating his touch. He gave Robby one last look, his gaze lingering like a threat. "I'll let you finish the tournament, but then you're mine."

And with that, Wolf turned and walked out, leaving Robby standing there with goosebumps dancing across his skin. He watched Wolf open the door and the woman step back. She frowned as he passed by her, then looked at Robby with concern etched in her features.

"Are you okay, Mr. Keene?"

Robby felt the need to laugh. No. He really wasn't. But it wasn't like he could tell her that. It was still nice of her to ask, though.

"Yeah." Robby smiled weakly and gestured around, "I'm gonna dress up now, can you give me five more minutes?"

The woman didn't seem entirely convinced but nodded, "Of course. I'll tell the photographer."

She closed the door for him, and he let out a sigh, sitting on the sofa and resting his head on his hands. This was bad. So bad. It made him want to call his dad, to get Tory and Miguel, to talk to Axel again. But none of that would help the situation, would it? Not really. What he needed to do was just… suck it up.

And it shouldn't be that hard. It was what he had done for most of his life anyway. At least this time, it would be for someone worth it.

Hey, guys! Thank you for all the kudos and comments, they are lovely and have motivated me a lot to continue this. So again, if you enjoyed the chapter, please leave a comment. I'd love to know what you think of this one!❤️