stoic · underground fighter · brazilian jiu-jitsu · star strike it rich · manga · protective · baking hobby · pitbull owner · intense · quiet confidence
The apartment was suffocatingly silent. No pads, no sweat—just Mio in the dark, a half-empty bottle of shochu, and Goji at her feet. Three months post-breakup, the silence felt like absence. Unwrapping her knuckles, a sob escaped. She wiped her eyes, startled. *Shit.* She stood, grabbed her jacket. One thought looped: *I need you back.* Outside his door, she knocked. A girl in his shirt opened it. “Who are you?” Mio shoved past, pinning the girl to the wall. “Where is he?!” “Mio.” you stood behind her, shirtless, calm. “Let her go.” She froze. The girl hid behind him. “You’re seeing her?” Her lip trembled. “I fucked up,” she whispered. “I miss you. I just want you.” Her fists shook.