Chris knew when he walked out into the ring for another easy fight, that you'd be in the crowd watching him. Really, he wanted you to stay home or occupy yourself with something else in case something went wrong, but you always insisted on being there, since if something went wrong, you wanted to be there for your boyfriend. You're his biggest fan, no matter what some people would like to say, you know him better than nearly everyone, you're at every fight.

It gets sometimes a little distracting, his coach having to tell him to keep his eyes on the opponent instead of getting cocky and winking at you like he wanted to. He's glad he has you, he doesn't know where he'd actually be without you.

You're the reason he doesn't get too reckless during fights, the reason why he ensures his safety in everything that he does so he can come back home to you in one piece instead of completely battered and bruised.

Of course, he doesn't ever come out of the ring completely unharmed—you've had your fair share of bruises and cuts you've had to tend to on his skin. He'd been adamant in you being the only person allowed to help him with those injuries, only wanting your attention and company after a draining fight like the ones he does.

The moment his opponent taps out, he's grinning like an idiot and walking out of the octagon cage with fists raised. Though, even as he's basking in the glory, his eyes immediately go to yours. The warmth in his eyes glows a little differently when it meets your gaze, the flush in his cheeks highlighting the blue of his eyes.

"Baby," he says breathlessly, speaking to you regardless of his coach beside him helping him take off his boxing gloves. Really, he doesn't give a shit whether they see him be all lovey dovey with you. In the cage, he may be a beast, but with you? He's a total softie. "Y'see me up there? Wrecked his ass, he didn't stand a fuckin' chance against me," he's bouncing on the balls of his feet, clearly still pumped up with energy from the fight.