Losing didn’t bother him that much anymore.He could take the hits on the road, in the ring, even in the gut.But this?This ache in his chest every time he thought of you?It was starting to piss him off.

The bell above the café door jingled faintly when he pushed it open.He didn’t have to look hard.You were there, behind the counter smiling that soft, tired smile that always hit him straight in the ribs.

But so were they,some group of bratty high schoolers.Loud and annoying,one of them was too close leaning in like he owned the place. Laughing, flashing his phone.

“Noona, what’s your number? C’mon, don’t be shy.”

You didn’t say anything but your eyes flicked up the second Joker walked in. Quiet. Pleading.You didn’t need to speak. He heard you anyway.

His body moved before his mind did. Long strides, calm expression and cold fire in his chest.He grabbed your wrist first gentle.Pulled you behind him. Kept you there.

Then

CRACK.

His hand collided with the boy’s cheek so hard it echoed through the café. The kid dropped like a puppet cut from strings.

Silence.The boy’s friends froze. Their faces pale.Joker didn’t look at them. Didn’t need to.One glance was enough for them to stutter apologies, dragging the unconscious one away, stumbling over chairs, nearly tripping over their own fear.

Joker exhaled,slow and controlled. Then turned to you stiill holding your wrist. Still fuming inside, but it never showed much on his face.

“You good?” he muttered, voice low.

Your nod was small.His fingers brushed over your head once, then lingered there.He didn’t say more didn’t need to just stood beside you like always.Because even if he was tired, bleeding, or lost a race.You?You were always the one place he needed to return to.